Page 28 of Rebel Without a Claus
“Party pooper.” I jut my bottom lip out. “No… North Pole pooper.”
By the time the sun begins to dip, painting the snow in shades of lavender and peach, I’m more tired than I expect. Farm life is… a lot. I take a break, sitting on a hay bale in the barn and sipping the hot cider that I brought in my thermos which can seriously no longer be considered hot. It’s more like tepid cider.
Luke comes in, dusting snow from his flannel coat. “You’re still here?”
“You say that like I’m a raccoon you thought you scared off an hour ago.”
He looks at me, and for a second—just a split second—there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A micro-smile. The Luke Dawson smile… practically a mythical creature.
Then he blinks and it’s gone. “Farmhands left an hour ago. I figured you were gone too.”
“Nope. Still here. Living my best rural fantasy. Isn’t this how Hallmark movies start?”
His brows lift. “I wouldn’t know. Though, usually I’d guess there’s less hay in your hair,” he deadpans.
I reach up and, yep, find a whole haystack nested up there. “I’m just committed to the bit.”
Then there’s a sound. A sharp grunt. A groan. Not from Luke. It’s low, animal, and insistent.
Luke’s entire body goes alert and he quickly strides toward the stall at the end.
“Uh… is that normal? It’s been making that noise for at least twenty minutes.” I stand up as well, following him to the end of the barn.
“That’s Junebug,” he mutters, peering over the partition into one of the reindeer pens. “She wasn’t due for another couple weeks or so…”
“Due? As in…” I push onto my toes and peek over his shoulder into the pen. The reindeer—Junebug, apparently—lies on her side, breathing heavily, clearly in distress. “Is she—oh my God, is she having a baby right now? Likeright nowright now?”
He quickly unlatches the door and rushes in to kneel beside her, calm and focused. “Yeah. It’s early. But it’s happening.”
I feel a mix of panic and awe bubbling in my chest. “Should I get someone? Call 911? Or … or… Santa?”
He shoots me a look, but it’s not quite annoyed. It looks even a little amused. “Do you thinkSantahas a degree in large animal veterinary medicine?” he asks with a quirk of his lips.
I throw my hands into the air. “Well, I don’t know! Should I go find Dave? Or… or call the vet?”
“Most of the staff already left. And I only ever call the vet if there’s a complication. So for now… tonight…It’s just me left. And I guess…you.”
I gulp. “Me?”
Luke gives a solemn nod. “You’re gonna help.”
I blink. “What? I’mnotqualified. As far as buns in the oven go, I’ve only ever delivered cinnamon rolls. And even then, they’re almost always burnt!”
“You’ll do fine. I’ll walk you through it.”
“But what if I faint? Or cry? Or faintandcry?” The tears are already welling up in my eyes and I stare into the dim lights of the barn, trying my damndest to blink them back.
His voice softens. “Eve. Look at me.”
I do through the distorted blur of my unshed tears.
“You can do this. Junebug needs you to do this.”
I swallow the golf ball in my throat. “But we aren’t talking about distributing feed in the troughs here—which I also can’t do right, for the record. We’re talking about a little life. Ababy.”
He nods. “That’s right. We’re talking about a little life. Which is why I need you to be calm and focused. You can do this,” he says quietly.
“How is it you have such faith in me?”
