Twelve Days of Christmas Chaos Page 7

  The smell was overwhelming and seemed to burn into his nose and eyes and the back of his throat, the taste of it was like acid on the back of his tongue. Wildlife rescuers probably had masks and better equipment, but Red’s team dealt with stray dogs and cats and ferrets and bunnies. Sometimes horses.

  Not skunks.

  So, they had scarves and gloves and leashes and cages.

  “Is it true that skunks can only spray once per day?” Red asked hesitantly, eyebrows drawn together and staring past Kayne into the room.

  Cleo shook her head. “No. They can spray up to six times in a row. If they completely discharge, then it can take up to ten days until they can spray again but that’s only if they use up their entire supply.”

  Kayne looked back at her. “Skunk expert as well?”

  She blushed. “Online school,” she muttered and then looked away quickly like she was ashamed of it.

  “She’s going to school to get her degree in animal rehabilitation so she can be a wolf biologist,” Red said proudly. “Our dog whisperer is going to do great things.”

  Kayne could only stare at Cleo in shock. Never, in all the times that she’d teased him for going to his big fancy university, had she mentioned that she was going to school as well.

  “You should have stood up and told them that at the pageant,” Grey said to his wife. “That would have shut Malen right up.” He glanced apologetically at Kayne. “Sorry.”

  “No apologies necessary,” Kayne said. “Someone should have shut her up.” He sent an inquisitive look at Cleo, who refused to meet his eyes. Why hadn’t she shut her up?

  Red gently squeezed Cleo’s shoulder and turned resolutely back to the skunks. “Okay, Whisperer. What do we do?”

  Cleo edged past them, considering the situation. “Hope the seventh day of Christmas is better?”

  Red laughed and Kayne couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips.

  They set the cages in the room by lowering them with rope and hangers they found lying nearby. The plan was that every time a skunk waddled curiously into a cage, Kayne or Cleo would snap the door shut behind them by pulling a different rope.

  The plan did not go according to plan.

  For one thing, the skunks did not want to go into the cages. Even if one did wander in by accident, getting the door to shut behind it was nearly impossible. They caught two after an hour of trying.

  Four to go.

  Cleo leaned against the wall, blowing out a breath in frustration. “I’m going to smell like skunk for the rest of my life. And we have the parade tomorrow. Malen is going to love this.”

  Kayne watched her for several long seconds, trying to screw up the courage to do what had to be done. He finally pushed away from the wall, nodding to himself. “Excuse me, sir, do you have any garbage bags?” It was a long shot, given the state of the house, but he had to try.

  The man, shockingly enough, did have garbage bags. Kayne reemerged from the kitchen five minutes later wrapped like a dead body from head to foot in black garbage bags, with only his face uncovered. Cleo burst out laughing from where she was hovered on a stack of paper plates and clothing, trying to lure a skunk into the cage.

  “What are you doing?”

  Kayne raised his chin, or at least he tried to, but the duct tape binding the garbage bag close to his face didn’t let him. “I’m going in.”

  Red and Greyson gaped at him. “You’re what?”

  Kayne climbed the makeshift gate, crouching on top like a misshapen gargoyle. “This isn’t working. We’re all going to smell anyway. I might as well…”

  The wall collapsed and sent him and Cleo both tumbling into the skunk enclosure.

  Instantly, the skunks attacked, tails up as they rose on front feet. Cleo screamed, or maybe it was Red or even Greyson—it was hard to tell in the chaos, but Kayne was fairly positive it wasn’t him. He lunged, Cleo, after a brief shock, also lunged, and they caught the skunks despite the acrid, horrific smell, and escorted them quickly into their cages. Cleo’s eyes watered, mascara sliding down her cheeks, and Kayne thought he would never smell again.

  It was unlike anything he’d ever endured.

  “You got them!” Red yelled, her scarf pulled up to her eyeballs in an attempt to fight off the smell. “Let’s go!”

  The man wasn’t thrilled about the smell. But he was more upset that they were taking his skunks, despite the fact that he’d helped Kayne wrap up in the bags. Red promised to let him visit them at the sanctuary.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent trying every remedy known to man to get the smell out.

  Mostly, they all failed.

  Cleo, from the look on her face, was never going to forgive him.

  Kayne woke ten minutes before his alarm went off to his phone buzzing like a panicked bumble bee. He groaned, rolling over to his stomach and fumbling around until his fingers closed on the angry little device.

  “I can’t do this. I smell like skunk. And tomatoes. And chemicals. And skunk. Can I drop out?”

  Kayne scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, staring at his phone. He wanted to strangle Malen for her comments, attacking Cleo’s already fragile self-esteem. Maybe he could accidentally push her off the parade float…

  His phone buzzed again. “What would happen if I drop out?”

  In his many years of being nominated for Christmas royalty, no one had ever dropped out. One girl had even accidentally dyed her skin and hair bright blue and still refused to quit. He wasn’t sure about the technicalities of it, but he knew he couldn’t let Cleo give up. “If you quit, she wins. Is that what you want?”

  She responded immediately, and he could picture her sitting alone in her house, probably in the dark, and gnawing on a thumbnail like she did when she got nervous or was uncomfortable.

  “I was nominated as a joke anyway.”

  Kayne swore under his breath, threw his blankets off and got up. He’d been planning to go to the gym with his brothers before the parade, but Cleo needed a pep talk, and doing it over text just wasn’t going to cut it.

  Five minutes later, he pounded on her front door, hot chocolates and cream pastries from Torta al Cioccolato in hand.

  Sugar made everything better.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked as she poked her head out, her blond curls falling around her face like a sun-kissed halo.

  “I brought breakfast. Let me in.”

  She opened the door wider and ushered him in, the smell of skunk still in the air around her.

  On him too, no doubt, but he’d gone nose-blind to that.

  She led the way to the kitchen, and Kayne set the cups in front of each chair. Mozzie bounded in, tissues hanging from her mouth, and Cleo half-heartedly wrestled them away from him. “How’s Glacier?”

  “She’s healing well. Stacey checks on her daily and my family is spoiling her rotten. Sit.”

  Cleo blinked at him. Mozzie, at her feet, sat obediently.

  “Good boy.” Kayne scratched his head behind the ears, and Mozzie’s tail thumped in appreciation. Cleo sank into a chair and cupped her hands around her hot chocolate, breathing in the steam.

  “You’re not quitting.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It was a joke anyway. No one would really nominate me.”

  “I nominated you, Cleo.”

  Her head jerked up, light brown eyes widening, but he didn’t let her respond. “But I wasn’t the only one. To be nominated for royalty, you have to be one of the top five most nominated in the city. That means that not only did I nominate you, but a whole lot of other people did as well. So, this isn’t a joke. A lot of people believe you should be up there.”

  She flushed, twisting the cup around and around in her hands. “But I—”

  “No. Malen is attacking you in the only place she sees a weakness. Are you really going to let her do that? Are you really going to let her jealousy drive you out of something you deserve to be in?”

  Cleo wrinkled her nose. “Jealous
y? What does she have to be jealous of?”

  Kayne sat down at the table, unloading an eclair in front of each of them. “She was always jealous of you. She hated that we were friends—”

  “We weren’t exactly friends—” Cleo started, but Kayne ignored her.

  They remembered high school very differently.

  “—and she hated that you were so drop-dead gorgeous and she couldn’t compete with it. She hated the way I looked at you. She hated the way everyone adored you while you walked around like an oblivious little ray of sunshine.” Kayne shrugged. “So she attacked you in the only way she knew how. And I refuse to let her beat you down.”

  Cleo watched him, head tipped to the side and eclair raised half-way to her lips. “I—I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much at one time before.”

  Kayne laughed despite himself. “Desperate times.”

  Cleo hesitated, chewing slowly on a delicate bite that somehow did not spray cream and crumbs everywhere, like his had. “What do you mean, she hated the way you looked at me?”

  It’s the same way I look at you now.

  Kayne patted his thigh, surprised when Mozzie wandered over and laid his head on Kayne’s leg. He worked absently on untangling floss from Mozzie’s whiskers. “I had a thing for you in high school. Everyone knew it but you.”

  Mozzie suddenly reared back on his hind legs and leaped, landing on the table like an Olympian, and snatched the eclair right out of Kayne’s hand. Hot chocolate went everywhere, Cleo gasped, and the table tipped under Mozzie’s weight.

  Everything crashed around them, cups flying, hot liquid soaring through the air and splashing across the white countertops and cabinets. The pristine kitchen went to a madhouse in under three seconds. “Mozzie!” Cleo screeched, “That’s bad for you! Don’t eat the chocolate!”

  Mozzie tore away from her, racing through the house with tail high, having the most fun game of tag in his life probably. Cleo ran after him, hurdling the fallen chair like a world-class sprinter. Kayne, left to his own devices, righted the table and set the chairs back on their legs, then dug around the kitchen sink for a rag to clean up the mess.

  By the time Cleo caught Mozzie, it was too late and the eclair, chocolate and all, was gone.

  But Kayne had the kitchen clean, so there was that.

  “Okay,” Cleo said resolutely, standing like a miniature warrior in her kitchen doorway, covered in hot chocolate and grass stains and who-knew-what else. “I’m going. If she wants to chase me away, she’ll have to work a lot harder than that.”

  Kayne smiled, ruffling her hair. “That’s my girl.”

  She grinned, batting his hand away. “Are you smiling, Mr. Popularity?”

  “I always smile. Are you okay now? Back to your usual feisty self so I can go get ready?” Kayne asked, wiping imaginary crumbs off the kitchen table because his heart hadn’t stopped pounding when he’d accidentally called her his girl and she hadn’t corrected him.

  She laughed. “I am feisty.”

  “Very much.”

  “Yes. I am okay. I will see you at the parade, skunk smell and all, Mr. Popularity.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cleo pulled her faux-fur lined hood up over her head, careful to not mess up her curls. She had faux-fur lined knee-high boots and fluffy gloves, the same ice-blue as her puffy coat.

  She felt like a snowflake.

  Which was exactly the effect she’d been going for.

  The parade started at twelve. Cleo got there ten minutes early, reminding herself again and again that Kayne thought she was feisty and Kayne wasn’t usually wrong, so she must be.

  Feisty people fought back. They didn’t run.

  At least, she assumed so.

  He was already on the float when she got there, looking for all the world like a model just stepping off the cover of a holiday magazine. His coat was black, and his scarf was red, and the hat he wore didn’t even hide the dark, dark hair that kept rebelliously escaping to fall across his forehead.

  It was really unfair how perfectly beautiful he was.

  He must have felt the weight of her stare because he looked up and grinned when he saw her, motioning with his head for her to come up. Was she delirious or was the stoic Kayne Frost smiling more and more as they got closer to Christmas?

  She must have been delirious.

  Malen wasn’t there yet, thank heavens, but Farrah and Rose both were. They pounced as soon as she got close enough.

  “Are you okay?” Rose asked, grabbing one of Cleo’s arms. Farrah grabbed the other. “I can’t believe she did that. We all know—”

  “That she’s taking online classes so she can save the wolves while keeping Red’s sanctuary running?” Kayne asked from where he stood. “Yeah, I thought it was common knowledge. Malen needs to catch up with the rest of us.”

  Cleo beamed at him.

  “Ugh. What smells like a skunk?” Malen demanded as she climbed awkwardly up onto the float, storming over to Kayne’s side. “Are we going to have to endure this for the entire parade? It’s unbearable.”

  Cleo hadn’t even heard her coming, but she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

  “It’s me,” Kayne growled. “We rescued some skunks yesterday and I got sprayed. But the skunks are fine, thanks for asking.”

  Malen wrinkled her nose, her mouth opening and closing like a confused fish.

  “They were released to a wildlife rehabilitation center. They’ll take care of the rest.”

  Cleo covered her mouth, trying to keep from laughing. “It’s me too. Kayne knocked me into their enclosure.”

  Malen rolled her eyes. “Typical.”

  Farrah shook her head, her long blond hair tumbling in waves down her back. “Nothing in this whole conversation is typical.”

  Cleo met Kayne’s eyes, surprised at the smile there. He looked like he was trying his hardest not to laugh.

  She was also surprised at the butterflies that suddenly woke and did flip flops in her stomach. Kayne was beautiful, no doubt, and even more handsome when he smiled. For some reason, when he smiled at her, it made her stomach do weird things.

  Which was ridiculous. Kayne had smiled at her before, surely.

  She just couldn’t remember when.

  “Okay, people, let’s get this parade moving!” the parade director called from the front of the line of trucks and floats. Many businesses had their own displays in the parade and gave out goodies or coupons or flyers along the route. The Christmas royalty were the second to last float to go, followed only by Santa himself, and his cute little wife. Cleo waved at them from her perch next to Kayne, grinning when Santa put his finger to his lips. It was Bart and Lizbeth, the owners of the Huckleberry Falls Bed and Breakfast. They had the perfect Christmas spirit to be such jolly elves.

  The truck pulling the float started into the parade route with a gentle jolt. Kayne put his hand on the small of Cleo’s back to hold her upright as if he somehow knew she would lose her balance and fall over. Cleo sucked in a breath, trying to calm the nerves that suddenly erupted at the thought of so many people watching them. Luckily, she was next to Kayne. No one would look past him to see her.

  It was a flurry of fringe and glitter and crepe paper and a dusting of snowflakes as they made their way down Main Street. People lined the streets, locals and tourists alike. Kayne nodded toward the bag of taffy in front of them, and Cleo happily threw handful after handful to the crowd, giggling when the kids darted all over behind the barriers to catch treats. She glanced up to see Kayne watching her, his dark eyes warm.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “Maybe a little.”

  “I knew it,” Kayne said, laughing.

  Malen whipped around to stare at him in shock. Cleo stared at him in shock.

  Kayne ignored them both, as if somehow unaware that he’d spent his entire life curating the strong silent type brand and now he was just laughing out loud, all willy-nilly.
“Hand me that candy. The people are waiting.”

  The parade ended at the winter carnival, which went until eight that night, long after the sun went down and the evening chill took over. Cleo hadn’t participated in the royalty pageant before, but she had always come to the carnival. It was one of the highlights of Huckleberry Fall’s Christmas season. Vendors of all kinds were lined up in decorated booths along both sides of the street, which had been closed to traffic. Cheerful white lights twinkled from where they were strung from booth to booth, and holly and mistletoe spun lazily in the light breeze. Fire pits and tall space heaters were on every corner, trying to chase away the cold, and Christmas trees that had been auctioned off at the Festival of Trees earlier that month stood proudly among the rest of the decorations. The smells of cinnamon and sugar and hot chocolate and all kinds of yummy treats wafted through the air and Christmas music played over speakers. It was the most beautiful kind of chaos.

  “My family has swans at our booth,” Malen said. “It’s very elegant and upscale.” She tugged lightly on Kayne’s coat zipper, as if to pull him along with her. “You should come check it out.”

  Her family owned Le Chalet Genéve, one of the more upscale restaurants in Huckleberry Falls. Cleo had only eaten there a few times because it had been out of her family’s price range except for the most special occasions.

  Kayne glanced back at Cleo, who gave a little wave as Farrah and Rose pulled her in the opposite direction. They wandered up and down the aisles, stopping to talk to parade-goers about the pageant and looking through all the booths. Cleo said goodbye as she approached Red’s area so she could help with the animals. Mrs. Stradley was there, trying to juggle several rescue cats who were more interested in escaping to chase the snowflakes falling lazily toward the ground.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Mrs. Stradley gasped as Cleo scooped up a big, soft grey and white cat with soft white paws and intelligent gold eyes. She’d named him Brave, and he was her favorite. “Whoever thought of letting the cats roam the enclosure put too much stock in their ability to stay put.”