Page 15 of The Snuggle is Real
I can take care of myself.
I don’t need charity.
But Mason was already striding down the sidewalk toward the sleigh. And Dottie and Charlie were waiting inside, expectinga holiday meal that I couldn’t provide if I refused to take this food.
As if he could read my mind, Mason turned as he reached the sleigh. “There’s nothing wrong with accepting a gift, Ford! Especially today.” He paused. “Isn’t that right?”
For a second I thought he was asking me until I realized Charlie had come to stand by my side.
“I like gifts,” she said. Then, “Whoa, you’ve got a sleigh just like Santa!”
Mason grinned. “I sure do.”
Dottie’s voice came from behind us. “I told you Christmas Falls was a magical place!”
Charlie waved emphatically to Mason as the sleigh carried him away. I had to admit, in this town, they even made charity look festive as fuck.
CHAPTER 5
Mason
I climbed backinto the sleigh. Our volunteer driver, Gus, shook the reins. The attached bells jingled and the two reindeer jolted into action.
Dottie’s house was our last delivery, so I tugged down my Santa hat and enjoyed the ride back to the Holiday Hope offices.
I’d enjoyed the past few days of delivering food—and a little holiday flair—to Christmas Falls families.
But it also reminded me of how far away mine was.
Just until Christmas,I reminded myself.You’ll see them soon.
Not for the first time, I wondered if I’d made a mistake by moving so far from home. I hadn’t set out to move to another state. My first job was just a couple of hours from my hometown. The next one a bit farther. Until suddenly moving to Illinois hadn’t seemed like too far of a leap.
But no matter how hard or far I chased my dreams, something still seemed to be missing.
The sleigh pulled to a stop in front of my office.
“Thanks for stepping up today, Gus. I’m sure you’ve got better plans than carting me around.”
“Happy to do it.” He grinned. “Although I’ve got to get home and put the turkey in the deep-fryer or the Mrs. will have my hide. She does the pies; I do the bird. That’s our deal.”
“Sounds like a pretty great deal. My mother makes this amazing apple-cranberry pie every year, and I—I’ve never missed it so much.”
I tried to laugh off the homesickness, but Gus saw through me.
“Would you like to come along? We’ve got room for one more.”
“Oh, no. That’s a kind offer, but I’ve got the Single Mingle Thanksgiving over at Rudolph’s in a couple of hours. I should probably get home and prep my side item.”
I’d already made my mom’s sausage, onion, and apple caramelized stuffing the night before because I knew I’d be busy this morning, but I hadn’t been totally sold on going to a Thanksgiving for singles. It sounded a little depressing—but no more than spending the day alone in my drafty house.
By the time I got home, I had just enough time to give Pepper a turkey rawhide so he could enjoy a doggy Thanksgiving and reheat my stuffing in the oven.
The Single Mingle was over at Rudolph’s bar downtown. It was a fairly casual pub with a wooden bar, scuffed floors, and tables—which had been pushed together for the Thanksgiving dinner.
I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but there was quite a little crowd gathered already. Christmas music played softly in the background, and garland was strung along the bar—where everyone was placing their potluck items—and on the fireplace mantel.
I added my stuffing to the buffet of food, drawing off the foil top.
