One Tough Christmas Cookie - Lucy McConnell Page 0,1

around his neck and sing the silly Santa songs he used to sing her to sleep with—before the divorce.

She was a successful veterinarian in a thriving office. She didn’t need her daddy’s approval nor his love at this stage in her life. The fact that this phone call proved otherwise made her edgy.

“It’s Christmas,” said the doctor, his tone laced with disapproval.

“That’s got nothing to do with it.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” Reality clicked in. There might only be a few hours of her life where she still had a father. This was no time to drag out the old complaint list. If she wanted to live a regret-free life, it meant being there for Dad. “I’m on my way. It’s a few hours by car.”

“That’s fine. Ask for me when you get here. If I’m not in surgery, I’ll meet you to explain everything.”

“Thank you.” She said goodbye and hung up the phone, staring at it. Her dad was dying. The knowledge was so strange—like putting on a brand-new bra. You knew it should fit, but figuring out how to adjust it was a nightmare. There was no adjusting this moment, though. She just had to take the next day as it came. Which was hard and cold and unfair.

“If we reset the leg, she should be fine.” Johnathan handed an iPad to Betty, one of the vet techs, and folded his arms. “What’s got you thinking so deep?” he asked Faith with a little bite. He’d gotten into a contemptible tone lately.

Faith rubbed her forehead, tired of being spoken to like she was one cat treat short. “My dad—” Her voice cracked on the title. “—had a heart attack.”

“Jeez!” Johnathan put a hand to her shoulder to steady her as she weaved on the stool. “Is he going to be okay?” He managed to ask that without making it sound like she was an idiot.

She couldn’t get her eyes to focus as she stared at the V in his dark blue scrubs. Johnathan was a great guy when he wasn’t acting like the king of the castle, but he wasn’t her guy. They’d figured out their brother/sister relationship in vet school, and Faith adored his wife. But there were times when she wished she had someone to lean on when she lost a patient or the walls echoed her loneliness. “I don’t think so.”

Johnathan gave her a shake—just hard enough that she came out of the shock and focused on his face. “Can you drive?” he asked.

Right. She was supposed to go to the hospital. There were things to do. She needed to pack. Her house was twenty minutes the other way. She’d just have to go without clothing. That was what she needed to do: get on the road. She stood up, causing Johnathan’s arms to fall away, and opened the cupboard where she’d stored her purse that morning. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want Sarah to go with you?”

“Thanks for offering your wife,” she said sarcastically. “But I’ll be all right.” Besides, facing her father was something she wanted to do on her own. Spectators would cause her to clam up and hold things inside. If this really was the end of the road for him, she had a lot to say—and a lot of questions.

She only hoped she got there in time to ask them.

Chapter 2

Caleb

“Snowflake, get down here.” Caleb stared up at the reindeer walking across the roof of the barn. This was the third time she’d gotten out of her stall in the last week. He’d have to padlock the thing to keep her inside. Raising flying reindeer for Santa was a dream job—until you learned that some reindeer loved to make trouble.

He held out a bucket of oats and shook it, making the oats rustle. Snowflake’s ears perked up, and she took two leaps before flipping in midair and landing in front of him.

Caleb chuckled. “Show-off.”

She shook her antlers like a beautiful woman in a shampoo commercial shaking out her hair before lowering her head to inspect the oats.

Caleb slipped the harness over her nose and then around her neck. “Come on.” He picked up the bucket. “You can finish these inside.”

Snowflake looked longingly at the reindeer herd in the west pasture.

“I can’t leave you out there.” He whispered to her, “Reindeer aren’t supposed to fly.”

She scowled, making him laugh.

His family had the only permit in the United States to raise, breed,