Dad Bod’s Candy Cane (Dad Bod Christmas)

1. Candy

Chapter One

CANDY

A sped-up version of O Come All Ye Faithful starts to play. Again.

“You’ll be okay on your own, hon? Dad and I will only be twenty minutes. See if you can finish stacking those reindeer ornaments before the lunchtime rush.” Mom doesn’t wait for an answer. She rushes to the door, Dad following. Maniacal, high-pitched elf laughter blares out as she hauls the door open. It’s better than the menacing ‘Santa’s coming for you…’ that plays when it shuts.

Cold air blows into the store. The door’s wedged open, but I don’t rush to close it. Rudy runs up to the open doorway and sniffs the snow outside. He extends his furry snout, the bells on the Christmas cape Grandma crocheted jangling, and gulps down big mouthfuls of snow.

At least Rudy’s not eating something poisonous. Our family dog is never happier than when he has his nose in trouble. Preferably the edible sort. I take a sip of the gingerbread latte in front of me. It’s been my favorite for years, but it tastes wrong. Too sweet. Sickly, almost. I’m pretty sure they haven’t changed the recipe. The problem isn't the coffee, the problem is me.

Setting the paper cup down on the counter too quickly, I splash it on the inventory list Dad insists on writing out by hand. Crap. Hunting around for some paper towels under the counter, I’m vaguely aware of someone talking to Rudy outside. A pretty, dark-haired woman is smiling at me when I emerge from behind the counter.

“Welcome to Twinkle Town! How may I help you?” I try to put some Christmas cheer in my tone, but it’s not convincing.

“Are you Candy? I saw Mrs. Cane on the street. She ordered lunch for your family. I run Mila’s Meals.” She taps the basket she’s carrying, her lightning-bolt earrings sparkling in the light.

“You’re Mila?” I ask.

“Guilty as charged. And I’m curious, I’ve been to Twinkle Town so many times, but I didn’t know the Cane family had another daughter. I’ve met your brother, Jaxon, and your sister Juniper.”

I shrug. “Out of sight, out of mind. This store is everything for my family. Twinkle Town is like the sun, and everything revolves around it. Are you originally from Snowflake Falls?”

She shakes her head. “No, I moved here with my Mom and sister a few years ago. Met my guy Brock here, he’s the chief up at the firehouse.”

I smile weakly at her. “The Love Town strikes again?”

“You better believe it! So we have two turkey-cranberry subs and our veggie special. Are you back home for the holidays?” Mila hands me the food, and Rudy jingle-jangles back inside, sniffing the air and snorting.

“Yes. I’m helping out over the busy period.” I hope she doesn’t ask me anything else.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a performer/director. Cabaret and theater, mostly. I was part of a troupe in the city,” I turn around, walking to the storeroom behind the counter to put the sandwiches in the refrigerator.

“Oh, wow! Will we see you performing here in Snowflake?” Her face is bright.

I shake my head. “Having some time off. Kind of. It’s busy here.”

“Yeah, this town sort of accelerates the week before Christmas. I hope you get some time out. I better be going. Nice to meet you, Candy!”

She waves, squeezing past Rudy, who sniffs dejectedly at her basket and follows her to the door.

“Don’t worry, Rudy. Nearly lunchtime,” I say, debating whether to sit and stare blankly at the twinkle lights or finish shelf-stacking. Maybe working will stop me from wallowing in my misery. I grab the stepladder from the hallway, leaning it against the wall, and pick up a box filled with colorful reindeer.

Climbing up the ladder, I rest the box on the top. From my lofty vantage point, I can peek out the top of the store’s floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s the only part that isn’t smothered in fake snow, twinkle lights, or some kind of decoration.

Snowflake Falls is covered in a thick blanket of snow. The huge Christmas tree in the center of the town square has even more lights than I remember from past holidays. The mayor has really gone to town with the holiday budget this year.

I’m not as wild about Christmas as my parents, but my cute small town is at its very best during the holidays. Folks travel from miles around to get their family picture in front of the tree, visit the ice-skating rink, and stop off for cookies and cocoa. Our family mixes our duties at the store with regular get-togethers with friends and family I’ve known all my life.

But this year, everything’s different. Every Christmas song and twinkly ornament reminds me of what I’ve lost. Of my shitty ex-fiancé and how he trampled on my dreams. Having to leave the troupe and move back here, not knowing what to do next.

Rudy scoots something across the floor with his nose. Praying that he won’t start chewing on it, I start lining up the reindeer on the shelf. Each pink and green rubber reindeer has antlers in the shape of a heart; if you press a button, a squeaky version of All I Want for Christmas is You plays. Part of my job is checking that each one works, so I methodically squeeze each reindeer’s bright red nose.

Now ten reindeer are gleefully singing simultaneously. One of the noses at the back won’t turn off. Standing on tiptoe, I give it an extra hard squeeze, knocking one of the ornaments off the shelf.

Rudy barks at the falling ornament and then brushes against the bottom of the ladder. It wobbles, my center of gravity shifting as the world around me tilts from side to side. My heart hammers in my chest. I cling to the top like the star at the top of a tree as the wobbling turns into swaying. Rudy barks again just as the ladder begins to topple away from the wall.

Crap .

Not wanting to land on my back, I twist my body around, trying to jump to break my fall. I brace to hit the floor as the reindeer ornaments scatter around me like giant, multicolored raindrops. Except I’m deftly caught and cradled against a large frame.

My eyes are squeezed shut. The only thing in my world right now is overwhelming relief at not hitting the ground and a disturbingly pleasant scent of leather and bergamot. Rudy’s uncharacteristically silent.

Then a crash as the ladder smashes into something. My eyes snap open.

Double crap.

Dalton Maxwell is staring down at me. He’s clasping me tightly as if he’s afraid I’ll keep falling.

Triple crap.

“Candy?” His voice rumbles in his chest. I’d forgotten just how huge this guy is.

For a second. I can’t speak. Being held in his big, strong arms is so unsettling and, at the same time, so right. I slot in against him like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Those dark blue eyes gaze steadily at me. He’s probably wondering why I’m not saying anything. His thick, dark brown beard matches the color of his eyebrows. I have to stop gawking at him.

“I’m alive!” I squeak.

“I can see that.”

“Thanks, Dalton. You can put me down now. What’s the damage?” I wince.

“Dog’s fine. A table full of singing snowman tissue dispensers has been wiped out,” he says, his face grim.

Very carefully, he sets me on my feet on a part of the floor that’s not covered in smashed china. Most of the reindeer are still singing. He crouches down and starts to turn them off, one by one.

One he picks up refuses to be quiet. I start giggling as he stands up, turning it over in his huge hands. He flips it over and takes out the battery.

“Why are you laughing?” His brows knit together in a frown. Dalton’s not known for his sunny demeanor.

I gulp.

“Shock.”

He nods. “Figures. What are you doing back home?”

“Long story. Are you here to see Jax? He’s picking up supplies today.”

“Nope. I’ve been doing some electronics work for your parents. Outside decorations, large-scale moving stuff. They didn’t mention it? I’m in and out of the store all the time.”

I shake my head. “Mom and Dad are a little distracted the week before Christmas.”

“You’re working here now?”

Dalton towers over me and I have to crane my neck to look into his eyes. Was he always this…tall? He’s got to be 6’6’ at the very least. Big belly, strong legs, and enormous shoulders; everything about him is massive.

A flush rises in my cheeks. My long-standing crush on my brother’s gorgeous best friend hasn’t disappeared over time. If anything, it’s intensified.

And it’s just my luck that I can’t ever do anything about it.