Page 18 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

“I don’t like you either.” He throws the paper towel in the trash under the sink. “But I’m starting to like Wendolyn and Lord Percival, so tell me more.”

I should probably just stop talking and check to see if the tree is off the road, but I’ve started this, so onward I go.

“The mayor gave Lord Percival three chances to win his daughter’s heart or he’d have to leave Warm Springs and never return.”

“It was called Warm Springs even back then?” Gabe asks, resting back against the counter and crossing his ankles. “In the indeterminate period of ye olden times in which this happened?”

“Well, it would have been WarmSpring, singular, then. It was only pluralized when the second spring was uncovered in?—”

His chin has dropped to his chest, but I can still see his teeth digging into his top lip while his fist thumps the edge of the counter beside him.

And he clearly can’t stop his shoulders from shaking.

“Oh God.” He straightens and his face reappears, red blotches above the line of his beard. “Fuckingpriceless.”

I take a slow sip of coffee, which he has made annoyingly deliciously, while he sighs and shakes his head.

“Seriously.” I tell him. “I wish I could leave.”

“I wish you could too. But, please, not before you’ve finished this story.”

His eyes meet mine for a second. Maybe they really are green, and it wasn’t just the Winter Emerald lights. And obviously he detects something in mine that makes him realize he’s being a bit insensitive.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He picks his drink back up. “So Lord Percival wants to bang Wendolyn, she’s not interested, but her father the mayor gives him three chances to change her mind. See, I’m following. Then what happens?”

He’s only going to give me an even harder time about the rest of it. But for reasons best known to whatever it is that’s come over me since I’ve been trapped in this house with this man for the last twelve hours, I plow on.

“First he showers her with jewels and gold and money, but she turns up her nose.” I’ll rattle through the rest of it to get it over with. “Then he puts on a huge show with performances and music and dancing and a massive banquet, but she still says no. So he goes away to think about it, and he comes back on Christmas Eve with a little piglet that’s been rejected by its mother and tells her that the piglet needs her love just as much as he does. And Wendolyn melts and they live happily ever after.”

“Wow, that’s some story.”

“Yup. And that’s why we don’t have a Christmas tree in the town square every year. We have a Christmas pig.”

“Right, yeah. Very funny.” He raises his eyebrows likethat’s the part he can’t believe, and reaches forward for one of the undecorated snowman cookies.

“It’s true. There’s a huge twenty-foot-tall pink pig that goes up every year, one week before Christmas Eve. Because that’s when Lord Percival is supposed to have arrived in town.”

Okay, maybe this is starting to sound ridiculous. “It’s semitransparent. And lights up from the inside. And also gets covered in other lights. And there are hooks all over it for people to hang decorations on.” A giggle plays in my chest. Yeah, I probably wouldn’t believe any of this either if I were new in town. “The schoolkids always make a bunch of stuff to hang on it every year.”

My mouth is twitching into an uncontrollable smile, so I press my coffee mug against it to try to bring it back into line.

“Sooo…” Gabe examines the cookie, obviously forcing himself to hold a serious expression. “One week before Christmas Eve, do all the locals gather in the town square for a pig lighting ceremony?” He bites off the snowman’s head.

My giggle rises higher, trying to claw its way out, but I’m not giving Mr. Grumpy Muscles the satisfaction of knowing I can see the funny side of it too. So, since there’s no way I’m going to be able to say anything without cracking up, I just press my lips together to hold it all in, and nod.

“And you are seriously not making that up?” he asks through the mouthful of cookie.

I take a deep breath and pull myself together. “You’ll see for yourself next week.” I drag the dusting of flour on the counter in front of me into a pile with my little finger. “And do you know where Lord Percival pitched his tent while he was trying to woo Wendolyn?”

“Surprise me. You’ve been doing a goodjob of that so far.” He looks at the remainder of the cookie in his hand and gives it a nod of approval.

I put down my mug and throw my non-floury hand out to the side. “Here.”

“Okay.” He holds up a hand to shut me up. “You’ve stretched my belief far enough now. Are you saying he set up camp on the exact spot where this house stands?”

“I couldn’t say it was this exact spot. But definitely somewhere here. It’s why it’s called Fool’s Hill. Because all the locals thought he was a fool for hoping Wendolyn would fall in love with him.”

Gabe’s shoulders sink and a look of realization grows on his face. “Oh,that’s the story my Realtor was trying to tell me.”

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