A Cold Creek Christmas Story

Her therapist said it was one more reaction to the trauma she had endured and that eventually she would be able to relax around others and return to the sweet, warm little girl she once had been. He wondered if Dr. Ross ever would have guessed a stuffed reindeer might help speed that process.

Celeste probably had no idea what a rare gift she had just been given as she hugged Olivia back. Still, she looked delighted. “You’re very welcome,” she said. “You will have to come up to The Christmas Ranch sometime. That’s where the real Sparkle lives.”

Olivia stepped away, eyes wide. “The real Sparkle lives near here?”

“Just up the road.” Celeste gestured vaguely in the direction of her family’s place. “We’ve got a herd of about a dozen reindeer. Sparkle happens to be a favorite of my niece and nephew—of all of us, really. That’s where I got the inspiration for the stories.”

“Can we go see them, Dad? Can we?”

He shrugged. That was the thing about kids. They dragged you to all kinds of places you didn’t necessarily want to go. “Don’t know why not. We can probably swing that before the holidays.”

Christmas was just around the corner and he was completely unprepared for it. He didn’t like celebrating the holidays in the first place. He didn’t really feel like hanging out at some cheesy Christmas moneymaking venture aimed at pouring holiday spirit down his throat like cheap bourbon.

But he loved his daughter, and if she wanted to go to the moon right now, he would figure out a way to take her.

“I like your tree,” Celeste said, gazing around his grandmother’s cluttered living room. “I especially like the tinsel. Did you help your dad put it up?”

A small spasm of guilt crossed her features. “Not really,” she admitted. “My dad did most of it. I have a bad arm.”

She lifted her shoulder and the arm in question dangled a little as if it were an overcooked lasagna noodle.

To her credit, Celeste didn’t question how she could use that same arm to pet the dog or hold a stuffed reindeer.

“Too bad,” she only said. “You’re probably really good at hanging tinsel.”

“Pretty good. I can’t reach the high parts of the tree, though.”

“Your dad helps you get those, right?”

“I guess.”

Celeste picked up the bag of tinsel where Flynn had left it on the console table. “Can I help you put the rest of it up on the side you didn’t get to yet? I’m kind of a tinsel expert. Growing up on The Christmas Ranch, I had to be.”

Olivia looked at the tree, then her father, then back at Celeste holding the tinsel. “Okay,” she said with that same wariness.

“It will be fun. You’ll see. Sparkle can help. He’s good at tinsel, too.”

How she possibly could have guessed from a half-tinseled tree that he had been trying to enlist his daughter’s help with decorating, he had no idea. But he wasn’t about to argue with her insight, especially when Olivia obediently followed her new heroine to the tree and reached for a handful of tinsel.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked.

“Oh. Yes. Thanks.” She gave a nervous little laugh as she handed him her coat. At the library, she had been wearing a big, loose sweater that had made him wonder what was beneath it. She had taken that layer off apparently, and now she wore a cheerful red turtleneck that accentuated her luscious curves and made his mouth water.

He had an inkling that she was the sort of woman who had no idea the kind of impact she had on a man. As he went to hang her coat by the front door, he forced himself to set aside the reaction as completely inappropriate under the circumstances, especially when she was only trying to help his kid.

When he returned to the living room, he found her and Olivia standing side by side hanging tinsel around the patches of the tree he had left bare.

Her cute little dog had finished sniffing the corners of the room and planted himself on his haunches in the middle of the floor, where he could watch the proceedings.

Flynn leaned against the doorjamb to do the same thing.

How odd, that Olivia would respond to a quiet children’s librarian and author more than she had her counselor, her physical therapist, the caregivers at the hospital. She seemed to bloom in this woman’s company, copying her actions on the lower branches she could reach. While she still seemed to be favoring her injured arm, occasionally she seemed to forget it hurt and used it without thinking.

All in all, it wasn’t a terrible way to spend a December evening while a gas fire flickered in Grandma Charlotte’s fireplace and snowflakes fluttered down outside the window.

After several moments, the two of them used the last of the tinsel and Celeste stepped away to take in the bigger picture.

“That looks perfect!” she exclaimed. “Excellent job.”

Olivia’s smile was almost back to her normal one. She held up the stuffed animal. “Sparkle helped.”

“I told you he would be very good at hanging tinsel.”

Whatever worked, he figured. “Let me hit the lights for you,” he said. “We can’t appreciate the full effects with the lights on.”

He turned them off, pitching the room into darkness except for the gleaming tree. The tinsel really did reflect the lights. His mom had been right about that, even if she had gotten so many other things wrong.

“Oh. I love it. It’s the prettiest tree ever,” Olivia declared.

“I have to agree,” Flynn said. “Good job, both of you.”

“And you,” Olivia pointed out. “You did most of it earlier. We only filled in the gaps.”

“So I did. We’re all apparently excellent at decorating Christmas trees.”

Celeste met his gaze and smiled. He gazed back, struck again by how lovely she was with those big green eyes that contrasted so strikingly with her dark hair.

He was staring, he realized, and jerked his gaze away, but not before he thought he saw color climb her high cheekbones. He told himself it must have been a trick of the Christmas lights.

“Oh, I nearly forget,” she exclaimed suddenly. “I have another birthday present for you. Two, actually.”

“You do?” Olivia lit up.

“Well, it’s not actually your birthday yet, so I completely understand if you want to wait. I can just give them to your dad to hold until the big day.”

As he might have predicted, Olivia didn’t look all that thrilled at the suggestion. “I should open them now while you’re here.”

“I guess I should have asked your dad first.”

He shrugged, figuring it was too late to stop the cart now. “Go ahead.”

With a rueful, apologetic smile, she handed the bag to Olivia. “It’s not wrapped, since I didn’t know it was your birthday when I came over. I’m sorry.”

His daughter apparently didn’t care. She reached into the bag and pulled out a book with colorful illustrations on the cover.

“Ohhh,” she breathed. “It’s another Sparkle and the Magic Snowball book!”

“This one is signed by both me and my sister, who did the illustrations. I figured since it’s your favorite book, you ought to have a signed copy.”