Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
CARTER
I’m not sure what I expected when I offered to fill in for Nick at the reindeer race, but being stuffed into a Santa suit, put on a pair of skis, and dragged behind a reindeer isn’t what I envisioned.
Ashley is talking to the coordinator and letting him know that I’ll be racing in Nick’s spot, so I pull my phone out of the pocket of my Santa pants and pull up my family’s group chat.
I’m about to race a reindeer.
Tre: Is this a euphemism?
Brynn: None of us want to hear about your sex life Carter.
I chuckle and take a selfie.
Brynn: Wow. Vermont’s been rough on you.
Tre: Have you considered shaving?
Mom: I’m afraid to ask, but you mean this literally, don’t you?
Sure do. Just think, you’ll be able to brag to your friends that your middle child is this year’s winner of the reindeer race.
Dad: Good luck. Don’t get hurt, or you’re getting a lump of coal in your stocking, because I’ll have to listen to your mother worry until she sets eyes on you when you get here on Christmas Eve.
I chuckle at my dad’s comment and notice Ashley approaching, so I slide my phone back in my pocket. When it vibrates a second later, I know it’s likely my mom, not impressed by my dad’s comment.
Ashley hands me a racing bib. “Are you sure about this?”
The line between her brows tells me that Ashley is concerned for me, which is… surprising. And progress, I guess. When I first arrived, I’m pretty sure she wanted to neuter me.
“It’s worth a shot. I feel bad that Nick won’t be able to participate. At least if I win, I can give him the ten thousand dollars, and he’ll be able to fix up his place.”
She studies me, tilting her head.
“What?” I shift in place. I don’t usually get uncomfortable with anyone’s attention being on me, but the way Ashley is looking at me feels different.
“It really hasn’t even dawned on you to keep the money for yourself if you win, has it?”
My forehead wrinkles. “Why would it? I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t to win the money for Nick.”
She studies me again, and I’m pretty sure she’s shocked. I’m slightly insulted that she thinks I’d actually keep the money. What kind of person does she think I am?
I don’t have time to think about Ashley’s assumptions about my character because a voice comes over the loudspeaker, instructing all the racers to go to the setup area.
“Well, good luck, Santa. Stay safe.” Ashley pats the fake belly jutting out of my abdomen.
“Thanks.” I pull the racing bib over my head, and Ashley helps me tie it up because it’s not easy for me to move while wearing this big belly and Santa costume. I can’t even reach my sides.
With her nearness, the scent of her perfume wafts over to me. It’s woodsy with a hint of something that reminds me of cranberries. Feminine with a definite winter undertone.
What the hell? Why am I thinking about the smell of her perfume like that?
“You’re good to go.” She steps back.
I nod then head over to where the other racers are setting up. As I put on my ski boots, I try to remember everything Nick told me.
Bend forward at the hip.
Butt out behind you.
Center your weight.
Head level with the reindeer’s back.
Knees close together.
Yank on the rope, not the reins, if you want him to go faster.
Hold. On. Tight.
I was feeling confident, but as I look around at my fellow racers, it’s clear to me that they take this race seriously. You’d think a bunch of Santas would be jolly and happy. But all I see under the white beards are eyes full of steely determination and competition.
The race is held on a street parallel to Main.
Snow that was brought in covers the shut-down road.
Crowds line each side of the street, families dressed in their winter gear, kids sucking on candy canes while holiday music blasts from nearby speakers.
As with everything in Mistletoe Falls, the atmosphere is festive and light.
At least for everyone not participating in the race.
One of the race organizers leads me to my spot at the starting line, and I get my first look at Nick’s reindeer, Sparkles. The name isn’t giving me much confidence as I look into his enclosure, but he looks big enough.
“We’re going to win this, aren’t we, Sparkles?”
He huffs through his nose, the cold air clouding in front of him.
It takes another few minutes to get everyone organized, and I use the time to build my confidence.
All my pep talks are wasted when one of the organizers brings me a helmet.
“Is this really necessary?” I ask him.
He laughs and walks away.
Unease grows in my stomach, but I remove my Santa hat and replace it with the helmet, then I click my boots into the skis.
I’m a snowboarder at heart, but thank God, I did that race with my siblings and their partners last Christmas, where we swapped skis and snowboards.
If I can ski down a hill, I can ski now.
Maybe not as well as snowboarding, but good enough to win this race.
I make my way to the starting line, beside the unit where Sparkles is contained, and pick up the reins and the rope that’s attached to his harness. The reindeer huffs at me as though he’s eager to get this thing started.
In a moment of trepidation, my stomach sinks, and I wonder whether I may have bitten off more than I can chew.
But seriously, how fast can these things really go? They’re not thoroughbreds or anything.