12 Days of Mistletoe

13. Bonnie

THIRTEEN

bonnie

Bill gives me a hug goodbye. “You didn’t talk about Canine Compassion once. No news? Or is it because of him?”

“No, just no time,” I moan. Plenty of news—I’ll have to share about Abby later.

Bill was having so much fun giving Elliot a hard time that my favorite, obsessive topic of conversation never came up. And maybe that’s for the best. I’ve talked Bill’s ear off so much about the nonprofit that now he wants to donate.

He lives on his own still—though he comes to the center for meals. But I know he isn’t rolling in the dough. He’s got doctor bills and grandkids who live out of state. If he’s going to visit them, he can’t be giving money to me. And I never meant for him to feel the need to invest.

Are we looking for investors at my nonprofit? Um, yeah. Duh . Of course we are. But not my elderly friend who scrapes by on his social security checks every month.

“Next time,” I tell him. “I’ll give you all the updates. ”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Bill waves one hand toward Elliot. “See ya, one-thirty.”

One-thirty —Elliot’s pretty terrible Scrabble score. Which is surprising considering all those books in his house. Bill will call Elliot that until the end of time. Plus every single one of Bill’s Scrabble words held accusations. He spelled out girl , then friend , then added an ex to the front. He also hoards letters in his lap, which is why he regularly scores above four hundred.

Elliot’s brows bounce once. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, Bill.” His words aren’t completely believable and I don’t blame him. Bill did not go easy on Elliot. Which, to be honest, I greatly enjoyed.

Back inside my Chevy, with Elliot beside me and my best girl behind me, I sigh. What a surprisingly fun afternoon.

“What’s Canine Compassion?” Elliot asks.

My pulse thrums. I love this organization. It’s why I have three jobs. It’s why I have Noel. I will share it with the world. So, the fact that I feel awkward sharing it with Elliot just now is odd. And probably telling of our doomed fake relationship. Except that mine and Elliot’s relationship is full of odd. So, why not feel odd in this too?

I don’t hate the guy. I don’t even completely dislike him. He put up nicely with all of Bill’s antics. And he’d been defending his grandmother. He’s been doing what he thought he needed to to buy the building. It’s a grand goal—something I understand.

I’ve been rooting for Abby Jones and her service animal for a year now. With so many kiddos ahead of her in line, she’s been put on the back burner. But I know anxiety—unfortunately, we are well acquainted. Something Abby and I have in common. I also have every confidence that this dog will change her life.

Last week Sarah told me that it would most likely be another two years before we could start the process on Abby’s dog. Two years. Two years means she wouldn’t have the dog for three. At the least. It takes a good year, sometimes two, to train a service animal. Which means Abby wouldn’t be fit with her animal for at least three years. Sarah says that’s not bad. We have older teens who are just now getting their service animals. Abby’s only ten. She’ll have it by thirteen, maybe fourteen, and that’s ahead of the game.

Except—I was Abby. And she needs her pup now. Now . Not in three years. But now.

The thought motivates me. If an investor wants to purchase a dog for a specific person, we won’t stop that train from moving. It happened once before. The investor bought a dog for a boy he went to church with, a boy with lupus. We were able to start the training process right away. So if an anonymous donor wants to buy and pay for an animal, as well as the training of a dog for Abby, nobody will argue.

My heart patters with the thought of that little girl with her dog. “Which way to your gran’s house?”

Elliot chuckles. “You’re just going to avoid the question, then? I don’t get to know what Canine Compassion is?”

“I’m just asking which way to turn.” We sit at the exit in the senior center. “Do I go left or right, Eaton?”

“Left. She’s on Larkspur.”

Whoa . May Elliot is living the good life.

“She and my grandpa raised most of their kids on Arcadia Drive, but then they built this place. It’s bigger than she needs. She may live alone, but she loves to hold family events. As her family has grown, she wants a place for them to stay or gather when we’re all together.”

“She loves her family, eh?”

“Nothing is more important to Gran than family. My family lives in town, but my uncle and his kids are back East. When they come to visit, Gran always has space for them.”

I drive, knowing the way from my DoorDash days.

“So, Canine Compassion?” Elliot says again.

I open my mouth. No need to be hesitant. It’s not a secret. He’s like any other stranger I’d pitch to or share our program with. “It’s a nonprofit I work for. They find service animals for people who need and qualify for one. We purchase the animal, make sure it’s trained correctly, and teach the new owner how to command and utilize their animal. All free of charge.”

“Wow. All of those things are pretty costly, aren’t they?”

“They are. Which is why often people who could really benefit from a service dog or cat or horse?—”

“Horse?” Elliot sputters.

“ Horse ,” I say. “So many people who could be benefiting from a trained animal don’t have one. Because it is so costly.”

“Wow.” He peers forward. “How many people do you fit with an animal in a year.”

I bite my inner cheek. Not enough. “One to three. Depending on the year, the grants, and donations we receive.”

“That’s really amazing, Bonnie. Is that how you got Noel?”

Noel’s head perks up at her name, but she quickly settles her chin back on the console, her nose brushing the back of my arm .

“Yeah. I got on the list at eighteen and got Noel at twenty-three.”

Elliot reaches back and scratches Noel’s head. His movement stirs up the pine and musk that wafted from him earlier. I’ve dated a little since moving to Billings, but not a lot. Go figure—not a ton of guys want to date a girl who brings her dog everywhere they go. Still, I don’t remember any of the guys being able to engulf me in their scent. Every time Elliot Eaton moves, it’s like someone is spritzing hypnotizing body spray over my head and letting it rain down on me.

I clear my throat—and my head—and say, “Anyway, I’ve been helping with Canine Compassion ever since I got Noel. I’m on the board now. It’s actually the reason I moved to Billings.”

“Where are you from?”

“Colorado. A little town in the southeast corner of the state.” I make a left turn and glance over at him. “You’re from Billings?”

“Yeah.”

“I assumed so since you said you grew up helping with the building.”

Elliot nods. “Listen, Bonnie, I know we started off on the wrong foot—my fault, mostly. I should have just talked to you right away. But the air is cleared now, right? I think we could be friends. We’re about to be put in some strange situations together. It might be easier if we had positive feelings about one another. Can we treat this like a friendship? Get to know one another and?—”

“Make out in front of your parents.” I let out a not-so-humorous chuckle. “Why not?” Never did I ever see myself in a Sandra Bullock romcom. The kind where Sandra is perfectly happy to end up with the dog—and not the guy.

Elliot sputters. My sarcastic comment is so worth it. Mom really dislikes it when I am a—quote—“smarty pants.” But I quite enjoy it.

“There won’t be any making out. I’m not tricking you into anything. You need to know that. We’re on the same team here.”

“Oh, I know it. Your gran is the mastermind behind this game.”

“She’s not. She’s old and sweet and worries about me. So, friends?”

I swallow. “Sure. Friends.” Blinking out at the road, I add, “We should bring her to the center to play Scrabble with Bill. I think she’d like that.” The idea hits me like a bolt of lightning. I am certain it’s a good idea.

“You think?”

“I think she’d love it.”

“Bill’s a little brash.” He points out his passenger window. “Second house on the right.”

I pull up to the big white house with its arched entry and black trim. The windows are large and sparkling—I’m not sure I’ve ever seen windows so clean. “Bill isn’t brash,” I say, still dipping my head to see the house at my right. “He’s honest and he’s funny.”

“You weren’t on the other end of that honesty.”

“Well, I think May would appreciate it.” But then what do I know? I don’t know May Elliot, I’ve just sent her holiday cards for the past three years. I didn’t have any other communication with her.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

“I thought we were going to be friends?” I kill the engine of my car and peer at Elliot. He peers back and something strange flutters in my gut. Sure, he’s stupidly handsome. I’m not blind, but that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him. Because I’m not. A couple of hours ago he was a dog hater—and I could never be attracted to a dog hater.

He shrugs. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean Gran and Bill need to be.”

I flick my gaze to the roof of this car—mostly for effect. I’m not actually annoyed and rolling my eyes. And then, the man I am utterly NOT attracted to leans across the console, right into my bubble.

“You’ve got an eyelash,” he says, his eyes focused on my bottom row of lashes.

I hitch my breath, holding it. I block every ounce of pine and musk and Christmas tree sweetness from my lungs. Who needs to breathe anyway?

“Almost got it,” he says, just as his fingers tickle my skin with a light brush.

Noel whines and Elliot loses his focus.

Yep, she tends to do that when my heart rate picks up. I’d like to deny it or ignore it, but Noel’s whining never lies.

“Got it,” Elliot says, holding out his finger with the single lash atop. “Did you want to blow it away and make a wish?”

“Are we in a 1980s Friday night special? No, I don’t want to blow it away and make a wish.” I swallow and give him my best stank face. Friend or not, he’s awfully close and my stomach just flipped in a not-so-normal way.

Noel whines again. Elliot Eaton needs to back up. I have to breathe. I can’t hold my breath forever, and at this point, I am only smelling musk and pine. I fear it’s going to drown me .

“Why is she doing that?” he asks, glancing over to No-No.

“Because,” I say, shoving his shoulder, “you’re too close to me and she doesn’t like it!”

“Oh.” Elliot clears his throat and sits back. “Sorry.” He puffs, blowing the lash from his finger, and rubs his hands down the thigh of his pants. “Um, do you mind if I at least take this tie off? I really should have changed before we left.”

“You’re not bothering me. You take off whatever you want.” My eyes attempt to pop out of my head at my own words. “Or leave it all on. Don’t be weird. I don’t care,” I say, officially claiming the title of most awkward human ever.

I open the door to a brisk breeze. I need that breeze. It’s cold and harsh and slaps me back to reality. There’s a small path of open sidewalk with snow on either side leading up to May’s door.

We walk in a single file line. For some reason, I lead the way with Noel behind me and Elliot behind her. At least he’s downwind. At least there is a dog between us.

“Sorry, I should have shoveled a wider path,” he says.

I glance back at him. “You shovel for her?” Why am I surprised? Elliot Eaton isn’t a dog hater, but a saint.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want her doing it.”

“That’s nice.” I lick my lips and pull in a chilled breath. “You’re sure your gran won’t mind Noel being here? Her place looks… nice.” To say the least.

“I don’t think so. In fact, I think she’ll want to meet her.”

“Yeah?” I can’t help but grin. “Man, this day is not what I expected it to be. Noel will get to stay free and clear, and Abby’s going to get her dog.” What started out as me planning all the ways I could make Mr. E.J. Eaton’s life miserable has turned out to be a miraculous day. Because of Elliot .

“Abby?” he says.

“Oh.” I bite my lip. I spoke those thoughts out loud and now I have to explain myself. “Yeah. She’s a girl who qualified and applied for a service animal, but she’s far down on the list.”

“I’m confused. How do today’s events change her station on the list?” Elliot moves beside me as we reach the landing at the front door. His blue eyes glaze over me, studying me and making my heart patter with rapid whipping beats. That’s bizarre too. And I don’t care for it one bit.

“Well—” I clear my throat. “I’m going to buy the dog.” I press my full lips on top of one another and spill my guts. “With the rent money you gave me.”

“Wait.” His brows narrow. “You aren’t using it for rent?”

I peer up at him, grateful the money is safely back at my apartment. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it matters. I said I’d pay your rent.”

The tension between us builds until it’s palpable. Reaching down, I rub the top of Noel’s head. “Well, you gave me cash. I promise to use your money to pay my rent, then.” And then I can use my money to buy Abby’s dog. I like that better anyway. If Canine Compassion isn’t using their funds to buy the dog, then I want to. I don’t want it to be from Elliot.

He groans, guessing exactly what I plan to do.

I roll my shoulders and stare at the black door in front of us. “Why do you care?”

“I just think you should use that money responsibly.”

I scoff and clench my jaw with his judgment. “And buying a service animal for a little girl isn’t responsible?”

“If she’s not at the top of the list, then there’s a reason—right?” He shrugs. “I mean, it’s your list. ”

“It’s not my list,” I moan. “It’s the nonprofit’s list.”

“Aren’t the recipients weighed as in who needs an animal the most?”

They are. But I’m not telling him that. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t an extensive waitlist. They all need an animal. Abby’s situation is personal. I was Abby.

I grind my teeth, and before I can spit some snarky comeback, May opens up the door, a bright smile on her pretty face.

“Hello, you two. Shall we get to know one another?”