Page 26 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

I drive, knowing the way from my DoorDash days.

“So, Canine Compassion?” Elliot says again.

I open my mouth. No need to be hesitant. It’s not a secret. He’s like any other stranger I’d pitch to or share our program with. “It’s a nonprofit I work for. They find service animals for people who need and qualify for one. We purchase the animal, make sure it’s trained correctly, and teach the new owner how to command and utilize their animal. All free of charge.”

“Wow. All of those things are pretty costly, aren’t they?”

“They are. Which is why often people who could really benefit from a service dog or cat or horse?—”

“Horse?” Elliot sputters.

“Horse,” I say. “So many people who could be benefiting from a trained animal don’t have one.Becauseit is so costly.”

“Wow.” He peers forward. “How many people do you fit with an animal in a year.”

I bite my inner cheek. Not enough. “One to three. Depending on the year, the grants, and donations we receive.”

“That’s really amazing, Bonnie. Is that how you got Noel?”

Noel’s head perks up at her name, but she quickly settles her chin back on the console, her nose brushing the back of my arm.

“Yeah. I got on the list at eighteen and got Noel at twenty-three.”

Elliot reaches back and scratches Noel’s head. His movement stirs up the pine and musk that wafted from him earlier. I’ve dated a little since moving to Billings, but not a lot. Go figure—not a ton of guys want to date a girl who brings her dog everywhere they go. Still, I don’t remember any of the guys being able to engulf me in their scent. Every time Elliot Eaton moves, it’s like someone is spritzing hypnotizing body spray over my head and letting it rain down on me.

I clear my throat—and my head—and say, “Anyway, I’ve been helping with Canine Compassion ever since I got Noel. I’m on the board now. It’s actually the reason I moved to Billings.”

“Where are you from?”

“Colorado. A little town in the southeast corner of the state.” I make a left turn and glance over at him. “You’re from Billings?”

“Yeah.”

“I assumed so since you said you grew up helping with the building.”

Elliot nods. “Listen, Bonnie, I know we started off on the wrong foot—my fault, mostly. I should have just talked to you right away. But the air is cleared now, right? I think we could be friends. We’re about to be put in some strange situations together. It might be easier if we had positive feelings about one another. Can we treat this like a friendship? Get to know one another and?—”

“Make out in front of your parents.” I let out a not-so-humorous chuckle. “Why not?” Never did I ever see myselfin a Sandra Bullock romcom. The kind where Sandra is perfectly happy to end up with the dog—and not the guy.

Elliot sputters. My sarcastic comment is so worth it. Mom really dislikes it when I am a—quote—“smarty pants.” But I quite enjoy it.

“There won’t be any making out. I’m not tricking you into anything. You need to know that. We’re on the same team here.”

“Oh, I know it. Your gran is the mastermind behind this game.”

“She’s not. She’s old and sweet and worries about me. So, friends?”

I swallow. “Sure. Friends.” Blinking out at the road, I add, “We should bring her to the center to play Scrabble with Bill. I think she’d like that.” The idea hits me like a bolt of lightning. I am certain it’s a good idea.

“You think?”

“I think she’d love it.”

“Bill’s a little brash.” He points out his passenger window. “Second house on the right.”

I pull up to the big white house with its arched entry and black trim. The windows are large and sparkling—I’m not sure I’ve ever seen windows so clean. “Bill isn’t brash,” I say, still dipping my head to see the house at my right. “He’s honest and he’s funny.”

“You weren’t on the other end of that honesty.”

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