“Maybe we should focus on the book,” I suggest, attempting a peace offering. There’s nothing Maggie loves more than dissecting a Christmas romance. Which is silly because they all end the same. Spoiler: they fall in love under the mistletoe/on a sled/in front of a roaring fire. The end.
So that’s what we do. We spend the rest of the book club dissecting the book, but I’m distracted the whole time. When Lexi starts talking about how incredible the hero is, all I can think about is that Jake is better. And nothing in the book even compares to my nights—and mornings and days—with him.
In fact, I’ve almost forgotten about my own dilemma when, close to the end of book club, Maggie gets a text that makes her frown.
“Shit,” she says, and then she looks up at me. “Sutton, I’m so sorry.”
Oh, no. Something tells me she’s not about to issue me a citation for not having Christmas bows on the goats. It’s not that I don’t try, the wily little creatures just keep destroying them.
“Linda received another copy of Jake’s paperwork,” she says. “And I’m sorry, Sutton. I think we’ve slowed it down as much as we can. I think… I think he’s moving forward with that golf course.”
Well, that dumps an avalanche of snow on my libido. What sort of a nutcracker would put a woman and her goats on the streets before Christmas? That’s some real ‘there’s no room at the inn’ energy, not that I have anything in common with Mary but the rickety barn.
“Just proves my point, I guess,” I say, trying to sound lighter than I feel. “Sheppard boys are not to be trusted.”
Chapter Ten
Before I go home, I decide to take a slight detour. Everything at the bakery has me feeling very not merry, and when I’m not feeling good, it shows in my creativity. Which is my soaps. Which is what I need to focus on from now on, clearly. Because Jake Sheppard is bound to burn me.
Still, does it really count as a burn if I knew what to expect? Is there anything really wrong with enjoying the chemistry we have and accepting that, once this week is over, we’ll each move on to our own lives?
Because I’m not Maggie. I’m not blinded by the idea of a holiday romance. I can see clearly that I need to start figuring out my own path, and that starts with accepting the fact that Reindeer Falls Goat Farm as I know it might need to evolve.
So I take a detour through Reindeer Falls. It’s December, so everyone’s got their lights up—I’m sure in part thanks to Maggie. As I drive my battered old truck down the streets, I’m overwhelmed by it all. Each yard looks beautifully decorated and charming, and with each house, I try to imagine the family that put those decorations up. Was it a house full of rowdy boys, each trying to one-up the other with the most outrageous yard display? Was it a newlywed couple, putting up their first lights? An older couple using the same wooden Frosty the Snowman they’ve been using for thirty years?
Christmas might not be my number one holiday, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it. In moments like this, it’s hard to not appreciate the magic. Especially when the snow’s coming gently down, bathing everything in a little extra sparkle.
I do a few loops around town, taking a different street every time. I’m on a mission for an alternate spot in case everything goes upside down in the next few days. But each spot that I find is too small or doesn’t have a shelter for the goats, or, more often, it’s already spoken for. I pass one of the farmers I know from the tack and feed store riding her horse around a wide grassy field, and looking at the property, I know something like this is way out of my budget. The farmer gives me a wave, and I wonder if I could convince her to board the goats for me. People board horses, right? Boarding goats could be a thing. I could move back in with my parents and pay rent somewhere for my goats.
I sigh. There’s only one thing to do. Hope for the best and trust the universe. The future’s unclear, and that’s okay. That’s something I’ve always been cool with. I had no idea what I was doing when I picked up a stray goat on the side of the road. I had no idea what I was doing when I stumbled across Ariel and won her in a poker game. And the only plan I had when I parked Ariel at the abandoned barn was to stay until someone kicked me out.
At least looking at all the holiday lights gives me an idea. I turn the truck around and head back to my farm. Mine, of course, for as long as Jake will let me have it. As I walk up to the Airstream, I’m immediately worried because I smell something.