14. Hudson

14

HUDSON

“ I s that Moody?”

“What’s gotten into him?”

“Is he okay?”

I noticed a few clandestine looks of disbelief and confusion in town. And I definitely overheard a few whispers.

I couldn’t blame them. The town Grinch suddenly didn’t seem so grinchy anymore. For starters, he smiled, joked with his customers, and even incorporated some more cheerful holiday elements in the store…like joyful music and trees with more than one limb.

Someone commented that he’d dropped his standard “Happy Honking Holidays” greeting too.

And then there was the gingerbread contest.

It had turned out to be a bigger deal than I’d thought. See, apparently the gingerbread bake-off was a vehicle to raise money for each participant’s charity of choice. There was paperwork and advertising involved—chores that were divvied out amongst a few shop owners. When Misty Sherman, Christmas Town’s candy queen, was summoned to Santa Barbara for a family emergency, Moody stepped in to help. No questions asked.

Curious?

Maybe, but I was too busy enjoying his company to analyze Moody’s holiday personality quirks. We spent every spare moment together.

I gave him a horseback riding lesson, taught him how to manually milk a cow and feed the animals. Let me tell you, Moody surrounded on all sides by a posse of hungry goats was high entertainment. He was unbearably sweet and so full of joy, it was hard to look away. In fact, I caught myself staring at him like a lovesick puppy, and that was just…weird. Wasn’t it?

I walked him home from the bookstore most nights and talked about every little thing that had popped into my mind while we’d been apart—differences between my uncle’s ranch and Oak Ridge, changes I hoped to implement. And Moody talked about books that inspired him, his secret love of poetry, and the snow globe collection he’d inherited from his mom that he’d decided to dust off and display in his window at home.

We’d commented on his neighbor’s holiday lights— “Elegant, a tad garish, over the top and then some.”

We’d talked about our favorite gifts from childhood—a skateboard, a game console, and new boots for me; an Easy Bake Oven and a bicycle for Moody.

“Did you ever get the dress you asked for?”

“No, I amended my request to a sewing machine.” Moody had snickered at the old memory, crossing his arms as if for warmth. “I don’t know why I asked for it. I was a terrible sewer. I figured it was a simple matter of following directions, but my seams were always off-centered and wonky. Of course, Mom praised the odd-shaped napkins I made for her birthday and didn’t comment that I’d inexplicably chosen a flannel fabric.”

I’d guffawed, my voice echoing off the rooftops on Frosty Lane as I’d draped my arms over his shoulders and kissed his temple. “Never change, Moody. Never change.”

He’d flashed a megawatt grin at me and launched into a series of nature books he’d loved as a kid, especially Audubon’s Birds of America . Don’t quote me, but I was pretty sure I’d received an in-depth report on the sandhill crane. Not important. His animated tone lulled me and made me feel connected to him, part of his world.

Game shows had given way to holiday cartoons. Less The Price is Right , more Miracle on 34th Street . We’d curl up on his sofa or mine to watch old-time reruns and end up sharing tidbits of our lives—friends, family, dreams and disappointments. It was so fucking easy to be with him.

Moody was smart, passionate, and accidentally witty. He had a heart of gold and a tendency to say exactly what was on his mind. He was the most refreshingly real person I’d ever met.

And fuck me, the sex was incredible.

I didn’t think I’d ever wanted anyone this much. Frankly, the greedy, desperate, needy feeling confused me. Everything about him turned me on—his smile, his pout, that thing he did with his lips just before he burst into laughter. And holy fuck, the noises he made while I was inside him were the stuff of X-rated fantasies.

Fine. I admit it, I was in deep.

But I cautioned myself to play it cool. I’d been burned badly. Moody was nothing like Kylie, but I had no intention of jumping into a serious relationship. Yet I worried I might be in over my head.

Keep it together, Babineaux. No falling for the reformed grump with pretty eyes and pink cheeks and ? —

“I hate to be a braggart, but our gingerbread ranch is the best.”

Christ, he was cute, I mused, snapping to attention.

I nodded, barely keeping my amusement in check as Moody eyed the competition on display in Vicki’s café and cantina. There were quite a few impressive works of gingerbread art, including Team Vixen’s, but Moody was right. Ours fucking rocked.

Moody had downplayed his ability. My man was a baking genius. He’d designed a mock-up of a miniature ranch with a red barn surrounded by a white picket fence. We’d baked cutouts of horses, cows, pigs, and goats and placed them strategically on the green icing that looked like a reasonable facsimile of grass.

Okay, he’d done most of the real work. I’d been his assistant…or lead elf.

And I hadn’t minded at all.

Whoa, wait up. Did I call him my man? Sure, it was in my head, but?—

“Did you actually make this?” Tanner crouched to examine the detail on the gingerbread ranch.

“Well…I helped.” I gestured toward Moody, who was chatting a few feet away with Vicki and Katie from his shop. “But it was really all Moody.”

Moody glanced up and smiled. That was it…just a smile, but I swore my heart went into overdrive, beating like a drum. My throat felt tight, and my hands went clammy too. Christ, what was wrong with me?

Tanner shot a knowing look between us. “You and Moody?”

“I…well, yeah, but—it’s new and—” I sputtered like an idiot.

“Well, I like it. He’s quirky but cool. My kind of people.” Tanner veered the conversation to practical matters at the ranch. “Hey, this isn’t the venue, but I was wondering what your plans are for the holidays. My sister wants Jax and me to visit her family in the Bay Area. I know you’re not technically here till January first, but if you’re in town on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I was hoping you could oversee the animals.”

I licked my lips, gaze locked on Moody. Yeah, my pulse was racing, my tongue was heavy. Something was wrong with me.

“No problem. I’ll be here,” I replied distractedly.

“Oh, great. I thought you might be going to Colorado, but I wasn’t sure.” Tanner clapped my shoulder, commenting on the next best gingerbread house. Or something like that.

I wasn’t paying attention.

Look, I hadn’t given my mom a definitive answer yet about the holidays. I’d told her I’d consider coming home, but…this felt like home. Which was nuts. This place was new to me. New faces, new experiences…a new lover.

And yet…it felt so right.

Vicki put her fingers to her lips and whistled, pulling me from my reverie. The room went quiet as all heads turned to the feisty redhead standing near the soup counter.

“The results are in! I want to thank everyone for participating. As you know, we’ve raised thousands for local charities so no, these are not just pretty gingerbread houses.” She motioned to the tables lined with gingerbread masterpieces. “They each represent the gift of a new beginning, and I couldn’t be prouder. Third place goes to…”

Moody sidled next to me, brushing my arm. “As first place winners, one of us will be expected to give a speech.”

In spite of my internal emotional rollercoaster, I snickered. “Someone’s confident. We haven’t won anything yet.”

“True.” He furrowed his brow and nibbled at his cuticle. “I shouldn’t be disappointed if we get second or third. It’s not about winning, it’s about…giving. Huh.”

His expression turned thoughtful, but Vicki interrupted with the news that Team Vixen had won second place.

“And first place goes to…drum roll, please.” Vicki rapped a beat on the counter, beaming as she continued, “Hudson and Moody!”

Moody beamed as the room exploded in applause, chanting, “Speech, speech, speech!”

I set a hand on his shoulder, noting that he suddenly seemed overwhelmed. “It’s okay. I got this.”

“No, it should be me.” Moody straightened his spine, head held high, and motioned for quiet.

“Give us a good bah humbug, Moody!” someone called out, much to the crowd’s amusement.

“There will be no bah humbugs from me,” Moody said, rolling his eyes at the collective good-natured groan. “Not now. I know this is a house made of cookie, but to me…it feels like something more this year. It feels like a new chapter. It feels like hope. Don’t think for one second this was my idea. No siree, Bob. This was Hudson’s diabolical plan to foist holiday cheer on me and honestly, it should grind my gears. It doesn’t. Instead, I’ve been reminded that in spite of dark times, there is still joy in the world and much to be grateful for. So thank you, Hudson and thank you, Christmas Town. This is quite…splendiferous.”

The café and cantina erupted with another round of cheers and effusive shouts of “Happy Holidays” until a grinning Moody finally huffed, “Bah humbug.”