Chapter 24 The Perfect Snowy Date Trope
Peering into my selfie camera, I applied my favorite blood-red lipstick and a dab of gloss to make my lips look wet. I’d already curled my hair and pulled on a soft mohair sweater in snow white, black leggings, and a ruby cameo brooch.
I was booked for my second attempt at a first date with Tyrone, and I was ready to become smoking hot Mrs. Claus with fangs.
As I finished my makeup, snow fell gently outside. It was the first snow since the night I’d arrived. This time, it felt like Christmas.
“Is it just me, or is that pin with a picture of someone’s grandma on it giving grandma vibes?” Heaven said. She was perched on the toilet seat painting her nails.
“According to the guy at the pawn shop, it’s a carving of an ‘anonymous woman,’ thank you very much.” It was relatable fashion.
Vlad chose that moment to poke his head into the bathroom. His gaze lingered on my date look.
“Tiffenie, you look…” He inhaled like he was trying to restrain himself. “Nice.”
“I’m going for more than nice, but thanks.”
“The brooch is very attractive and, dare I say, sexual. It draws the eyes to the décolletage.”
Heaven rolled her eyes. “You two are both, like, a thousand. Get a room.”
The doorbell rang, cutting off Vlad’s retort, and I click-clacked down the stairs in my Payless boots.
To my immense relief, I opened the large door to find Tyrone instead of Wayne Jarvis.
He was balanced on the only surface available, a beam, because we were in the middle of prying up the porch flooring to replace it with something that wasn’t rotting away.
“Hang on, I’ll be right out,” I said, posing in my grandma brooch.
“You look gorgeous.”
“You too,” I said, slinging a bag over my shoulder. There was a virility to him that I could taste in the air, the smell of freshly cut pine with a hint of repressed danger, Christmas as told by Bruce Willis. A heady smell that made my skin prickle with awareness.
Just as I was about to make a clean escape, Vlad came up behind me.
“Who’s this?” Vlad rumbled. He folded his arms across his broad chest.
I shot a look at him. “Vlad,” I said, “this is Tyrone. He’s our neighbor.”
“Nice to meet you,” Vlad said, holding out a hand. When Tyrone took it, Vlad squeezed a little too hard, but Tyrone didn’t blink. “I’m—”
“An old friend. He dropped by for a surprise visit,” I said.
Vlad shifted slightly, so I edged past him, leaving him to continue crowding the doorway. Heaven had come down to watch the dick-measuring contest. She looked amused.
“Rule number four of Grand Risings. Good dick—”
“Don’t make up for nothing,” I finished.
Tyrone called out to Heaven. “Hey, sis. Feeling better tonight?”
“Yup, much better.”
Before they could get to talking any more, I said, “See you both later,” waved to Heaven and Vlad, and shut the door behind me.
After Tyrone helped me off the porch, he held on to my hand. With a cute smile, he said, “I wasn’t sure we were going to make it out of there.”
“Sorry about that.” There was something so boyish and sweet about him. His lack of guile struck a chord in my heart. I wanted to be vulnerable and unfiltered in return. At least I could be honest.
“Last night, I told you Heaven was sick, but it wasn’t her.”
“Why? Was anyone sick?”
“Yes, the city inspector came by. While he was inspecting the property, some kind of animal bit him and I had to drive him to the hospital. I think it was a coyote.” My eyes cast down in shame, I said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” He looked confused, probably because my story didn’t make sense.
“I was a little freaked out. He was bleeding so much.”
“How could that be your fault?” He looked like he was trying to wrap his mind around the story. “A coyote?”
“A coyote.” At this point, I had to stick to my dumb story.
As we walked down the drive, he said, “Let’s not worry about that right now. Tonight, I have a surprise.” With a big smile, he gestured to the base of the driveway. “I hope you like horses.”
I gasped at the sight of a horse-drawn sleigh. Like his truck, it was painted cherry red and decorated with the St. Nicholas Farms logo, in the same old-fashioned handwriting. “I thought Fred and Melva could give us a ride to the farm.”
I looked into Tyrone’s expectant face. He was trying so hard to impress me. Horses I could do without, but this sweetness went straight to my head. It had been a very long time, probably a lifetime ago, since someone had made such a big deal about me.
“I wouldn’t miss this date for the world.” I squeezed his hand.
“You can give them a little scratch, if you want. They’re both sweeties.” He whispered something and rubbed one of their velvet snouts. The animal nickered softly and nuzzled Tyrone’s jacket. With a chuckle, he chided the horse. “Hey, now, don’t be eating my jacket, Fred!”
Even the horses loved him.
Fred and Melva were miniature Clydesdales, like the ones in Budweiser commercials. As I stepped toward them, they shifted their weight uneasily, causing the bells on their harnesses to jingle riotously.
“People say dogs are a great judge of character, but horses are better. You can trust a horse,” Tyrone said.
Uh-oh.
“These guys are part of the Christmas fair. I’ve got a whole thing going on. I was going to give you a private tour last night, but tonight, you’re going to have to see it with the whole town. It’s a lot of work, but it helps pay the bills.”
“And here I thought you were just living off patent money,” I teased.
“Money’s tight right now.” From the way he said this, I could tell there was more to the story, but I didn’t want to push too fast too soon.
“Hello, sweeties!” I called to the horses in my friendliest voice.
Fred’s whiskers and soft breath tickled my palm as he whuffed a big, soft, horsey breath.
Once he got a noseful of my scent, he jerked his head abruptly and snorted loudly in objection.
His neighs sounded almost like a cry of alarm. Maybe they were.
The whites of Fred’s eyes were showing as he stomped his hooves. I knew what was going on: Fred was telling Melva to watch her back.
Tyrone peered into the dimly lit yard, looking for whatever was setting Fred off. “Did you say a coyote bit that inspector?”
“I think so.”
“Something’s got the horses spooked.” He pulled a flashlight out of his pants pocket and shone it into the darkness. “Once horses get a whiff of a predator, they get skittish.”
I gulped.
“The scent of blood makes them lose their cool completely,” he said. As if on cue, Fred and Melva jerked their heads harder and started sidestepping away from me.
He scanned the tree line with obvious concern. “You’ve got something dangerous on the property.”
A vision of Heaven sinking her fangs into Wayne’s neck flashed across my mind.
“Coyote-wolf hybrids are more common these days.” Taking my hand, he said, “Don’t be scared. It’s part of living in the country.”
Tyrone almost seemed excited by the prospect of a man-eating coyote. It was as if he’d been waiting to step into the role of protector. “I never go out without a sidearm,” he said, patting a lump under his jacket that I hadn’t noticed before. “If something does attack, we’re safe.”
Ha. I wasn’t the one who needed protecting, but it was nice to pretend. I could play the damsel in distress.
“Let’s get you a hot chocolate. The horses will calm down.”
He helped me climb into the sleigh and sat down next to me. Our thighs pressed together in a way I wanted to repeat without so many layers.
“Hyah!” he called, and flicked the reins.
The horses trotted down the street, the clip-clop of their hooves muted by the newly fallen snow. They were calmer now, probably because the wind was blowing my scent in the other direction.
Then the wind shifted and the horses started moving at a brisk trot.
“Whoa,” Tyrone called. “Whoa, Fred. Whoa, Melva.” The faster they ran, the more steam billowed in the cold air.
I could barely see the road through the cloud of hot horse breath.
He turned to me. “I’ve never seen them this spooked before. ”
Five minutes later, we arrived at St. Nicholas Farms. Nightly Christmas fun!
a sign proclaimed. See Santa, meet the reindeer, get a world-famous christmas tree!
The parking lot was bustling with families walking back to their cars with Christmas trees.
Others were pulling in, decked out in their winter gear to see Santa and drink hot chocolate.
The businesses open past eight in Valentine made for a weird social life: the tavern, the hospital, emergency services, and the Christmas tree farm.
Tyrone brought the horses to a stop in front of a bright red barn decorated with garlands and oversized wreaths.
“Something’s got ’em spooked,” he reported to one of the workers. “Give them each a feed bag and curry them down for a minute before we take them on any more rides.”
“Sure thing,” said the worker. “Who’s this here?”
Tyrone slung an arm around my shoulders. “This is Tiffany. I’m taking her on a VIP tour.”
I preened. “How VIP are we talking? Do I get Santa to myself?”
Tyrone raised an eyebrow. “Dylan is playing Santa tonight.”
“Dylan is cute.” I said. “But no, I’m all yours.”
He squeezed my hand and gave me a look that almost raised my body to a temperature that would register as alive, before his expression shifted to concern. “Do you smell something burning?” He sniffed the air.
Oh, shit. Smoke was rising from my backside. There was a baby Jesus in a manger scene right behind me. I pretended to stomp out a cigarette butt. “People are so careless. Poor Baby cheeses.”
“I’ll be right back. There’s too much hay around here for people to be tossing cigarettes.”
Too many flammables for me to be standing next to Jesus. Discreetly, I plopped onto a snow-covered chair. My overheated ass steamed as it melted the snow. Luckily, the fabric had just melted a bit, so my bum was still covered.
Speaking of cigarettes, I needed one real bad. A young woman walked by and the scent of iron wafted off her, tantalizing my senses. Involuntarily, I bared my fangs and hissed.
She looked my way, as if trying to make sense of my behavior, and asked, “Did you say something?”
“I love your…” I searched for something I liked and said, “Boyfriend.” I could have smacked myself in the forehead. Lipstick, hair, jacket—anything would have been better. I was a menace to society.
“Um, thanks?” The woman and her maybe-boyfriend hurried away.
“Sorry,” I called. “I have low blood sugar.” If I didn’t drink something soon, I was going to drain a kid waiting for Santa.
Coconut water was working, but I probably needed a lot more. It was just a matter of calibrating things. I made for the gift shop.