16. Alex

Alex

CHAPTER 16

Instead of popping the question, Emmie and I spend the next several minutes listening to the enthusiastic “Holidayle Happenings” representative talk up the town.

“I’d love to stick around, but I’m leaving soon,” Emmie says.

I’m not sure if regret fills her voice or, like me, she doesn’t enjoy the high-pressure sell. To be clear, this is a free prize and not an attempt at a timeshare or something like that, but it’s not the right timing.

My company isn’t called Wild Warriors by accident. While I’ve enjoyed our day in Holidayle, my natural habitat is on the ranch trails or doing things independently and mostly outdoors.

A couple with several kids who look like they’re close to overdosing on cocoa, cookies, and Christmas, drag themselves along the lit-up street.

Emmie and I make eye contact as if we’re both thinking the same thing.

“Would it be possible to pass this prize along to them?” I ask, hoping Emmie is okay with that.

She lights up. “Yes, a little pay-it-forward Christmas Secret Santa.” Without waiting for the elf to agree, she hurries after the family .

Hands in my pockets, I shrug at the guy with the elf hat who looks surprised that we’d pass up the offer.

I lean in, “She’s a bit of a Grinch, but I’m working on it.”

Lips pressed together, he nods as if he understands.

But Emmie has come around on Christmas considerably in the last twenty-four hours. And there’s more to come when we get home and unpack the Jeep, loaded with gifts for the kids tomorrow at the church event, cookie-making supplies, and decorations for the house.

But first, dinner. We go to “Antlers & Iron.” It’s a pub-type place, but the magic is in the back past the outdoor dining area complete with warm fires and heaters.

Emmie takes a seat and then I lower down, trying to adhere to the gentlemanly manners Gram taught me. Her words of advice when it came to women was to make sure my date wouldn’t have anything nasty to say to her brother or father about me.

Emmie has four so I’m on my best behavior, not that it would be any different.

Gram and my grandfather were happily married so I trust her suggestion.

Emmie browses the menu and we both order cranberry coolers and skip an appetizer, going straight for the main course.

Emmie says, “You go first, I’m still debating.”

I get the blue moose burger—a regular hamburger patty topped with bacon, caramelized onions, and blue cheese.

“And I’ll get the tomahawk steak. Rare. Potatoes and blue cheese on the salad.” With a smile, she adds, “Please.”

Both the server’s eyebrows and mine lift slightly because that’s typically a man’s meal—on the menu, it’s under a section called, “For the Bucks.”

Emmie shrugs and says, “What? I’m hungry.” Then she leans in and adds, “You can tell a lot about a restaurant by the quality of their steak.”

And you can tell a lot about a woman by the way she takes her steak. Yep. There’s no doubt, Emmanuella McGregor is my dream girl.

We chat about the afternoon and evening in Holidayle. Emmie interrupts herself. “Hold on. Back up. Can you believe we jumped out of a helicopter this morning?”

“Just a day in the life.”

She lets out a long sigh as if thinking about just that—what makes up her days. I’d like for her to be part of mine.

“There's something I want to show you before our food comes.”

Emmie and I leave the table, heading along a wooded path draped with white lights and bordered by snow.

“Not everyone knows this, but there’s a special reason this restaurant is called Antlers and Iron.” We arrive at the clearing and I hold still, standing behind Emmie, listening and watching.

Through the stands of aspen, maple, and pinyon pine trees, there’s a snort and a cloudy little puff of air at about chest level.

Emmie stiffens. I plant my hand on her shoulder and give a reassuring squeeze before pointing.

With sure steps, a reindeer appears in the near darkness. Its antlers are about forty inches wide and he nudges his head toward us. The sound he makes as his breath puffs in the cold night air reminds me of Ginny’s greeting.

Emmie peers over her shoulder at me as if to ask, Is that what I think it is?

I give her shoulder another squeeze in response. We watch quietly as a second reindeer appears, a female. She rubs her head on a pine tree.

After a few more minutes, we move off so our food isn’t waiting and cold. After all, Emmie ordered a steak.

She devours it, saying it’s the best she’s had in a long time. To my surprise, she can’t stop gushing about Holidayle and how enchanting it was to see the reindeer. I explain that they started visiting the owners when this place was just a fishing camp.

“That path we took leads to the lake.”

“I take it you have to be an insider to know they’re back there. What does the iron in the name stand for?”

“The owner’s last name. Well, it’s Irons, but I suppose that still works.”

We enjoy the rest of the meal and carry on conversation until we get back home, both of us as energized as two kids who can’t wait for Christmas morning. With the tree up, we string it with lights and decorate it with all Gram’s angels along with some balls we picked up at the market.

“Should we do a tree lighting countdown?” I ask.

Emmie starts and I join her, pleased she’s taking part, which means today might have chipped away at her Grinchy heart.

“It looks beautiful, but there’s still one thing missing,” Emmie says.

“The angel on top?”

She nods. “Gram had one, but I don’t know what happened to it. I’ll go through the boxes tomorrow. But before we turn in, let’s go outside for my favorite part.”

Emmie’s expression is quizzical, but she follows me closely, instantly shivering.

I hold her close as we view the house and tree aglow. “When I was a kid, my favorite thing was to see people’s trees lit through the window. It was always so?—”

“Cozy and inviting?”

I nod as the question I was going to ask Emmie while under the mistletoe forms on my lips.

She trembles, hugging me close.

“Thinking about the tropics?” I ask.

“No, but I should get my ticket. I’m lagging because going to Coco Key is one step closer to returning to New York. The more time I spend here, the more I think I’m done with city life.”

“What might that mean for us?” I ask, close to proposing.

“You mean the book? It’ll get done. I promise. I’ve never failed a co-writer. ”

No. That’s not what I meant. My spirits plummet. Maybe we’re not on the same wavelength.

Emmie shivers again.

“Let’s head inside.”

She stands in front of the fire for a solid five minutes. “We should wrap all those gifts for tomorrow, Santa.”

“Okay, Mrs. Claus.”

“Miss McGregor to you.”

“Not Your Majesty…”

Emmie laughs. “No, I think I’m retiring the crown. Trading it in for some antlers.”

My spirits rise. “Does that mean you want to stick around here?”

“I’m thinking about it.” She picks up the rolls of gift paper and we go downstairs to use the pool table for our wrapping station.

I wonder if she’d like to be Mrs. Armstrong. “You might say that we started as pen pals.”

“Modern pen pals with email.” She peels price tags off the items we purchased for kids.

I cut a piece of gift wrap covered in gingerbread houses. “Then we started texting.”

“Until we finally spoke on the phone.”

That day comes back to me vividly with her telling me how excited she was to work together and put me at ease with some of the more challenging content we would explore given my special ops and sniper history.

“We’ve known each other a while,” I say, folding the side of the wrapping paper.

She sticks down the tape. “If I lived close by, maybe we could have a few more adventures.”

“I like where this conversation is going.”

“What would you think about us being neighbors?” She steps closer to me.

I nod. “I’d be good with that. ”

“What about more than neighbors? I mean someday. Unless you think I’m too young.”

“You’re perfect and you got me to see the world in color again instead of drab gray.”

“Were you walking around with your head in a snow cloud?”

“More like I had to stick to a singular purpose instead of seeing the full picture, the colorful picture of what my life could be like with you in it.”

“I like this picture that you’re painting,” Emmie says, leaning close to me.

Me too. For so long, I was living in a moody, black-and-white photo. My life was drained of color because I saw so many lives shattered. So many non-reunions. I didn’t think there was room for love. For romance. Never thought I could be romantic. That it wasn’t for me.

Until Emmie.