Chapter 3 Holly #2
Butter, syrup, and a glass of milk were laid out neatly on the kitchen island, fork and knife positioned just so. Holly picked up her fork and got down to the serious business of eating.
And it was business. It would be a long day, so they both needed the energy. Soon her dad would go out to start up the plow truck so customers could get to the tree farm at all, while she fed the chickens and ran the snowblower on the paths around the farm.
But for now, he finished stacking himself an alarmingly high pile of pancakes laden with bacon and over-easy eggs.
It would have been a marvel that he kept himself trim at his age, except she knew that he ruthlessly monitored his fitness.
If he felt that he needed to skip dinner to stay in fighting form, she knew he would do it, and she’d be rustling herself up a can of soup.
“Snow came down pretty heavy in the night,” Dad said as he set his plate across from hers. “I figured it’d be at least a foot, no matter what the weather gal said.”
Her dad had always had an uncanny ability to predict the weather. She didn’t know if he came by it as a shifter, but his predictions, especially around snow and rain, always put the weather forecast to shame.
“I’ll feed the chickens and get the snowblower,” Holly said. “You’re going to handle the plowing?”
Dad grunted an affirmative with his mouth full. “Hope the county gets the snowplow out early. Get the roads clear.”
Chatting over the dividing up of post-storm duties carried them through breakfast. Cupcake settled under Holly’s stool, looking up hopefully.
“No feeding pets at the table.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Holly said, hastily slipping half a piece of bacon out of her napkin and back onto her plate.
“You sure that critter’s supposed to look like that?” Her dad couldn’t stop staring, craning to look under his feet as Cupcake circled the kitchen island to see if there was any hope of tidbits coming from the other side.
“The shelter lady said so.”
“Does he need a, uh ...” Her dad looked like he’d bitten into something sour instead of a bite of blueberry pancake with syrup. “.... winter coat or something?”
“Probably,” Holly sighed. Cupcake had looked awfully cold outside. “I looked it up on my phone last night, and it looks like you can make a quick coverall for a small dog by cutting the ends off a sock.”
“A sock,” her dad repeated flatly.
“A big sock.”
“The other dogs are gonna laugh at him.”
“The only other dog around is Rocket, and she’s too nice.”
Summoned by her name or the smell of pancakes, Rocket scratched at the door.
Holly was done eating anyway, so she jumped up to let in the border collie, who bounded into the kitchen covered in fresh snow, sniffed around the food area, and then went to accost Cupcake.
Holly kept an eye on them to make sure no new jealousy was going to arise.
But Rocket had always been good with other dogs at the tree farm.
She sniffed at Cupcake and gave his topknot a friendly slurp.
“See? Rocket’s a sweetie. Ugh, you’re wet. Do you have any old wool socks with holes in the toes I can use, Dad?”
“Yeah, go through my sock drawer if you have to,” her dad grumbled. He cleared his throat. “By the way, we have another job today, and that’s getting one of the Christmas cottages ready for a guest.”
“Really? Someone’s staying there? Dad, that’s wonderful!”
The village of Christmas-themed tiny houses on the hill behind the farmhouse had been her parents’ passion project. They had rented them out as a B she still didn’t know if he would turn out to be a problem in the house, and he would have to be alone there for hours.
Rocket could hang out all day at the Christmas tree farm and play in the snow, but Holly was pretty sure Cupcake would expire of hypothermia in a matter of minutes.
Her dad snorted. “That wasn’t a fight so much as a butt-whupping, and Rocket got whupped. Maybe that little dog has some spunk in him after all.”
Holly cautiously put Cupcake down. He immediately ran back to Rocket’s bed. Rocket raised her head in alarm, and Holly also tensed, but instead of driving the bigger dog off her bed this time, he curled up next to her, half buried in Rocket’s long black and white fur.
“Awww, they’re sharing. See, Dad, they do get along!”
“Until Rocket gets fed up and sits on him.”
Holly heaved a sigh. Her dad would warm up to Cupcake, she was sure of it.
He had always been very tender with the girls’ many pets over the years, and she had seen him personally warm up new baby chicks by tucking them into his shirt.
Her dad was a total soft touch when he thought no one was looking.
“So tell me about our guest,” Holly said. She went to get clean sheets from the closet. “Does he have a name?”
“His name’s Jace,” the Colonel said. “He’s got nowhere else to go. No family.”
“Poor guy,” Holly said, her heart immediately going out to this unknown stranger. “I’m glad we can offer him that, at least.” She turned a curious look on her dad. “Is he, um—like you? Do you know?”
“Yeah, he’s a shifter. So don’t ask questions about that. Especially not what he turns into.”
Holly rolled her eyes. Why was it that parents could bring out the bratty toddler in even the most capable adult?
“I know that, Dad. Just because none of us came out shifters doesn’t mean I don’t understand the etiquette.
I am not going to scare away your military buddy’s buddy before he even has a chance to enjoy shifting and running around on the ranch. ”
Dad was stamping into his boots, but he turned around with his heavy coat slung over his arm. “It’s not just the shifter thing. From what Dave said about him, he’s a little—skittish.”
“Skittish?” Holly repeated skeptically. That was something you said about an unbroken colt, not a full grown man. “Are we talking full fledged PTSD here, or what?”
“Don’t know. Dave said he can be a hard guy to get to know.”
Based on Holly’s experience with soldiers, which was more extensive than most, that could mean just about anything. “Wonderful. I’ll try to manage my expectations.”
Her enthusiasm for having someone else on the ranch had taken a hit.
But maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, she thought, striving for optimism as she bundled the sheets into a laundry bag for the walk up to the Christmas village.
It was only a couple of weeks. How much trouble could it be to treat a lonely soldier to a family holiday?