Page 10 of Wounded Christmas Wolf
“Awww, they’re sharing. See, Dad, they do get along!”
“Until Rocket gets fed up and sits on him.”
Holly heaved a sigh. Her dad would warm up to Cupcake, she was sure of it. He had always been very tender with the girls’ many pets over the years, and she had seen him personally warm up new baby chicks by tucking them into his shirt. Her dad was a total soft touch when he thought no one was looking.
“So tell me about our guest,” Holly said. She went to get clean sheets from the closet. “Does he have a name?”
“His name’s Jace,” the Colonel said. “He’s got nowhere else to go. No family.”
“Poor guy,” Holly said, her heart immediately going out to this unknown stranger. “I’m glad we can offer him that, at least.” She turned a curious look on her dad. “Is he, um—like you? Do you know?”
“Yeah, he’s a shifter. So don’t ask questions about that. Especially not what he turns into.”
Holly rolled her eyes. Why was it that parents could bring out the bratty toddler in even the most capable adult? “Iknowthat, Dad. Just because none of us came out shifters doesn’t mean I don’t understand the etiquette. I am not going to scare away your military buddy’s buddy before he even has a chance to enjoy shifting and running around on the ranch.”
Dad was stamping into his boots, but he turned around with his heavy coat slung over his arm. “It’s not just theshifter thing. From what Dave said about him, he’s a little—skittish.”
“Skittish?” Holly repeated skeptically. That was something you said about an unbroken colt, not a full grown man. “Are we talking full fledged PTSD here, or what?”
“Don’t know. Dave said he can be a hard guy to get to know.”
Based on Holly’s experience with soldiers, which was more extensive than most, that could mean just about anything. “Wonderful. I’ll try to manage my expectations.”
Her enthusiasm for having someone else on the ranch had taken a hit. But maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, she thought, striving for optimism as she bundled the sheets into a laundry bag for the walk up to the Christmas village. It was only a couple of weeks. How much trouble could it be to treat a lonely soldier to a family holiday?
JACE
So this was Christmas Ranch.
Jace stood at the base of a recently plowed driveway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, gazing at the ranch. It looked like a postcard. Snow glistened on ranks of pine trees that even Jace’s city-boy eyes could tell were too evenly arranged to be natural. That must be the FAMILY CHRISTMAS TREE FARM promised on a large hand-painted sign beside the posts that stood on either side of the gate.
The neat rows of pine trees spread out on the right-hand side of the ranch. A small cluster of buildings stood directly in front of him, a large farmhouse and a barn and some other outbuildings. Beyond that, a narrow road or a wide driveway curved gently up the hill toward a scatter of Christmas lights, gleaming in brilliant colors against the fresh snow.
Jace shifted from foot to foot. It was cold. His breath huffed out in a cloud of steam.
He had hitched a ride from town with a farmer. The old guy had looked exactly like Jace’s idea of a farmer (white Santa beard, plaid shirt under a heavy sheepskin coat), and asthe truck blasted heat out of its vents, he’d tried engaging Jace in conversation. Jace knew he was being rude, but all he’d done was grunt back now and then. The last thing the old guy had said before letting him off was, “You better get you a good coat if you’re gonna be staying out here, son.”
Now that he was out in the weather, Jace could see why. The wind was going straight through his light town coat, a secondhand special that had seemed like a good bargain for the price.
He wasn’t used to the country. He wasn’t used to winter. He’d grown up in Georgia; the most snow he’d ever seen was a light dusting now and then. Kids who grew up in group homes didn’t do things like go up to Vermont for ski weekends.
This was part of why he had second-guessed coming here in the first place. This place looked perfectly picturesque. He didn’t fit. He felt himself starting to shut down, a feeling he hated and welcomed in equal measure. It was that old coping mechanism ofLeave them before they leave you.
The place looked too good for him. Too pretty. People like him didn’t belong here. They were going to throw him out sooner or later; he’d break some rule, or they’d somehow sense the bottomless depths of messed-up in his soul.
So don’t care about it. Laugh at it, maybe. This stupid place with its picture postcard pine trees—what kind of idiots ran a place like this, and let just any old fuck-up stay there for free? It was a free bed, nothing more. Like the shelter, just hopefully with less scratchy blankets.
A horn beeped at him, jolting him out of his gloomy thoughts. Jace turned, startled, and then stepped aside as a family minivan edged past him in the driveway, its tires swimming around in the slush where the sun had warmed up enough, earlier in the day, to start melting the snow. Now itwas freezing again into a treacherous mix of ice and water. The sun was winking at him over the hill behind the house.
Even if he wanted to go back to town, give up on the risk of being thrown out of yet another place he could have called home, and spend the night at the shelter, it was getting too late for it. Unless he hitched a ride with the minivan family, he didn’t have many prospects; it wasn’t like there was a lot of traffic going by on this narrow country road.
Ahead of him, the minivan turned to follow the signs pointing to the Christmas tree farm, crawling up a one-lane driveway curving off to the right between the pine trees. There were piles of snow on either side. Jace wondered what would happen if it met another vehicle coming the other way. Did they have to back up until they got to a wider place?
He took a deep breath of chilly air and started walking toward the main house. One of the problems he was struggling with was that he had no idea what he was expected to do, and he hated that—not having clear guidelines to follow. All the worst problems in his life had led from that. He sometimes felt like there was some kind of book of rules for life that everyone else had access to, but he never did. Rules for getting good jobs, talking easily with people, charming women. Jace didn’t know if it went along with being a lone shifter, not associated with a clan or a pack, or if it was something uniquely broken in him. Maybe both.
He would have been a lot more comfortable if there were check-in instructions or something. Instead, it looked like he was going to have to go up to the house and talk to someone.
However, he was in luck. He hadn’t even gotten halfway there before there was a sound of a small, sputtering engine, and a beat-up old ATV came roaring up to him, its knobby tires bouncing over the slushy snow with a lot more aptitude than the minivan. It was pulling a trailer with some hay in it.
