Chapter 1
Brad Ford had glitter in his beard.
He didn’t know how it’d gotten there. Probably sometime between two-year-old Ethan shaking an entire vial of gold sparkles on his sweater and four year-old Drew grabbing a glue stick and smearing it directly across Brad’s left sleeve.
He twisted his head to see if the shimmer that had flashed him from the kitchen window was real.
Yup. Gold and silver danced as he scratched his jaw.
He gave his wife, Hanna, a mock glare across the kitchen island as he rumbled, “This was your idea.”
Hanna, completely unfazed, looked up from her own Christmas sweater-in-progress and grinned. “You said you wanted a low-key holiday evening at home.”
“I meant watching Die Hard after the kids went to bed.” Which was bullshit, and they both knew it, but his nonsense brought a flash of a smile to her face, which was a total win.
“Brad.” Her tone was pure love with that hint of amusement that always got to him, “We don’t do low-key around here anymore.”
He huffed. But he couldn’t argue.
Not when fourteen-year-old Crissy—a teenager!
When had that happened?—was at the far end of the table helping her little brother Drew stick felt snowmen onto his sweater.
The little tyke’s usual wildcat energy was so focused at the moment by the importance of the task, the tip of his tongue stuck out as he carefully positioned each cutout.
Not when next to them, Ethan was covered in green puff paint and delighted about it.
And especially not when Hanna had pulled an old flannel shirt of his over her petite frame, her face lit with joy. The sight brought back many other priceless memories of her from the past years wearing his shirt and nothing else…
Fuck.
Brad loved it. All of it. Having a wife and a family. He loved the gang he worked with down at the fire hall, competitive as they were together. Hell, tonight he even loved the glitter.
He just needed a minute to grumble about it first.
“Got any extra reindeer for me?” he asked his daughter.
Crissy tossed him a pile of felt cutouts, watching with curiosity for a moment. “You’re putting them on the back?”
Brad gave her a long, solemn look as he deliberately flipped the cutout to hide the comical face Hanna had sketched. Instead, he quickly redrew the antlers and legs to make the beast pop up in reverse. “No one expects reindeer butt on the back of my sweater. That’s why I’ll win.”
Crissy rolled her eyes, but she snickered. “You need a bunch of fluffy tails then, Dad.”
“On it.” Hanna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers brushing his as she passed him a thread that held a vivid white pom-pom. “You’re taking this very seriously.”
“It’s a contest,” he offered, deadpan.
“It's a community gathering with a potluck and too many people shoved into the fire hall common area.”
“Mack will be there, plus Ryan, Alec, and Ashton. And their wives. Stakes couldn’t be higher when Madison Zhao and ugly sweaters are involved.”
Hanna’s amusement danced on the air, and Brad’s heart did that thing it always did when she laughed—that little flip that made him feel twenty and stupid and lucky all at once. He cleared his throat and pretended to focus on positioning the reindeer’s poofy tail correctly.
“Gitter,” Ethan declared, shaking another container with wild enthusiasm before anyone could stop him.
Brad was too late to shield his sweater but managed to scoop Ethan to a safe spot on the floor before his arm swung toward the counter where dinner was cooling. “Kiddo—maybe not in the lasagna.”
With a laugh, his youngest son climbed back onto the chair next to Brad. Ethan stared down at the sweater with delight. A mound of glitter clung to the place where Brad had put glue to help hold his feeble sewing attempts in place.
Ethan clapped his hands and shouted. “Sparky!”
Which meant that was the reindeer’s name forevermore.
Thirty minutes later, all the sweaters neared completion, and little fingers were ready to head to the bathroom to wash up for dinner. Hanna leaned into Brad’s side, resting her head on his arm. “You did great, Sparky’s dad.”
He kissed the top of her head then glanced toward the window.
Outside, snow fell in slow, lazy flakes, dusting the long driveway up to the ranch house.
Somewhere down in town, the hall was being strung with lights, and he could already picture the welcome chaos of the annual firefighter’s party.
His best friend Mack’s quiet steadiness, Ryan’s unending patience, Alex’s sly jokes that were now one hundred percent teasing with a positive purpose.
Ashton Stewart, their representative from the older section of the community, wearing a twinkle in his eyes far more often than years before. Married life suited him.
Not to mention all the other volunteers who’d put in tons of time and energy over the past year and were ready for a chance to celebrate each other and Heart Falls. Seemed to Brad there was always something extra going on in the corners of those parties. Quiet confessions. Big surprises.
All the kids high on candy canes and laughter.
That was what they had to look forward to in a few days.
Tonight? Tonight, up here at home, it was just his family with laughter and glitter and an unexpected reindeer butt.
Brad wouldn’t trade it for the world.