A Christmas Call of Duty (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Shay

“ Find your perfect match, one arrow at a time. ”

I know it’s a cheesy tagline for a dating app, but this didn’t stop me from downloading Cupid’s Hub onto my smartphone three weeks ago. Because the only thing worse than suffering through another holiday season is being single in the process.

I stare out the window at the blanket of snow covering the thicket of pine trees behind the clinic as my breath fogs up the glass. To an outsider, Snowberry Creek might look like something out of a Hallmark movie. But I know better than that. "Christmas miracle," I mutter under my breath. "As if those actually existed."

Brandon weaves between my legs, his fluffy grey tail wrapping around my calf. His purr rumbles through the quiet of my exam room, a soothing distraction from Gladys's constant chatter coming down the hall behind me.

"And then I told Mayor Donovan that Sergeant Pepper absolutely cannot have any more holiday treats," Gladys prattles on to Dr. Weber. "That dog's already rounder than a Christmas pudding!"

I tune them out and focus on the gentle pressure of Brandon against my leg instead. My hand drops to scratch behind his ears, and he leans into my touch with a content chirp. "What do you think, B? Any chance Santa will bring me the man of my dreams?"

Brandon blinks up at me with his big copper eyes, looking far too wise for a cat whose greatest achievement is perfecting the art of sleeping twenty-three hours a day. I try to imagine what he must be thinking and nod in agreement.

The Teddy Bear Persian makes a valid point. Maybe Santa will leave a sniper rifle under Cupid's tree this year.

"Dr. Mason?" Gladys's voice cuts through my brooding. "Your 10 o'clock has arrived. The Johnsons are here with Goldie for her first checkup."

I plaster on my best professional smile, pushing thoughts of bad romance to the back of my mind. "Thanks, Gladys. I'll be right there."

As I move away from the window, Brandon lets out a disgruntled meow at the loss of my attention. I scoop him up, burying my face in his plush fur. "Sorry, buddy. Duty calls." When I reach the front office, I set him down at the reception desk, where he immediately sprawls across a stack of files. "Try not to terrorize Gladys too much while I'm gone." I pitch Gladys, our office manager, an apologetic look.

“He’s fine, dear,” she says with a reassuring smile. “Sometimes I think these files might bury us all alive.”

I give a quick laugh before turning to greet Mr. and Mrs. Johnson in the lobby, and when I head towards the exam room with Goldie, an eight-week old Labradoodle, my mind drifts to my ex. I can still hear his voice after the first time I introduced him to Brandon. He swore he didn't mean any harm when he called my handsome little man the ugliest cat he'd ever seen, but—needless to say—it's a memory that makes my blood boil to this day.

It didn’t matter to him that I found Brandon abandoned behind a dumpster outside my dorms during my second year in college with an eye infection that took two months to treat. Or how much smaller he was compared to other cats… because being noticeably smaller than everyone else was a problem I painfully identified with. But at the end of the day, pain was nothing more than a sign of weakness to a guy like Zane Ralston. Zane was your typical, run-of-the-mill Army guy from Fort Drum—utterly incapable of empathy. Maybe if I didn’t live in a town where military men were a dime a dozen, I might have an actual chance of meeting someone decent. Or someone who actually stuck around long enough to see a relationship through.

"Honestly, Goldie. Sometimes I don't know what I was thinking coming back to Snowberry Creek." But then I pause outside the exam room door, reminding myself that running this clinic has been my dream since I was a teenager. "Focus, Shay," I mutter to myself. "No one wants to hear about the dumpster fire that is your love life. Do you girl?" I look down and give Goldie a scratch behind her collar while she gnaws at my hand.

With the sweet smell of puppy breath filling the air, the check-up goes off without a hitch, and I see Goldie out to her parents in the lobby only to catch the tail end of an ongoing feud between colleagues.

"Dr. Mason, what do you think about starting the new year fresh? I was just telling Dr. Weber how we could finally get rid of these old file cabinets behind my desk. They're such an eyesore, don’t you think? If we went fully digital, we could free up that space and install a nice electric fireplace. And think of all the trees we'd be saving!"

I glance over at Dr. Weber, who's now shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. His bushy white eyebrows are furrowed, and he's scratching his ear— a telling sign that he's not entirely pleased with the direction the conversation is going.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle, Gladys. We've already been over this. Those cabinets have served us well for decades. Why fix what ain't broke?" Dr. Weber's Midwest accent is more pronounced than usual, and it's clear Glady's is pushing his buttons this morning.

Gladys turns to me with pleading eyes. "What do you think, Dr. Mason? You use these files, too. Surely you can see the benefits of giving our system an update."

I bite my lip, caught between Gladys's enthusiasm and Dr. Weber's look of scrutiny.

"Now, hold your horses, both of you." Dr. Weber intercepts with a voice that's gruff but not entirely unkind. "I may be old, but I haven't retired yet . And until I do, those file cabinets are staying right where they are. End of discussion."

Gladys opens her mouth to protest, but Dr. Weber gives her a pointed look. "Right now, we've got bigger problems on our hands. I just got an email from Margo Hendricks down at the animal shelter, and there’s big trouble."

"What kind of trouble this time?" I ask, trying to hide my indifference. I've been volunteering at the local animal shelter since junior high, and there’s always been talk of trouble. That’s what happens when inflation is at an all-time high. People won’t adopt when they can barely afford groceries to feed themselves.

"Funding issues, mostly. But this time it’s serious.” His eyes shift nervously between me and Gladys. “The town's been hit hard this year, and donations are down. I know that may not sound like news, but add a hefty bank loan to their annual operating costs and the money needed for repairs, and the shelter’s hands are tied. Margo says she has one month to come up with an unimaginable amount of money or Snowberry Creek's only animal shelter will be closing their doors for good.”

Tyler Chen's face flashes across my mind. Suddenly, I feel sick to my stomach. Tyler's been my best friend since high school. The shelter is the only job he's ever had. Where would he go if it closed all of a sudden? And even worse… where would the animals go? “How… much money?”

“Three hundred and fifty thousand,” he says solemnly.

"Oh, Harold!” Gladys wrings her hands as her voice cuts through the air. “You know we can't let that happen. Isn't there anything we can do?”

Dr. Weber gives us both a hopeful look. “Margo has been in close contact with Mayor Donovan to see about possible fundraising opportunities. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear more.”

I nod, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Count me in. I'll do whatever it takes to help out."

Gladys reaches out and pats my hand with misty eyes. "That's our girl. We'll figure this out together, won't we?"

I manage a small smile, but deep down, I feel my heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars is… So. Much. Money.

The rest of the morning goes by quietly until Dr. Weber is the first to break the silence. "I don't know about you gals, but I could use some Christmas cheer. What do you say we close early and check out the festival on Main Street? It's a Snowberry Creek tradition, you know."

"Oh, goodness me! I almost forgot!" Gladys perks up and claps her hands together, her eyes twinkling behind her thick-framed glasses. "No use moping around all day. We should be out celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior!"

I blink in surprise and feel my stomach fill with dread. " Early? Are you sure? What if we get a walk-in?"

"Absolutely!" He nods with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Don't reckon anyone's gonna be driving out this way with all the festivities. Besides, you don't want to spend the day cooped up in an office, do you?"

I don't have the heart to admit how excited I was to have work as an excuse to get out of the town's annual Christmas Eve Festival. The thought of being around so many happy couples all at once makes my heart ache. "I don't know. I've got a ton of paperwork to catch up on and—"

"Oh, come on now, Shay. Surely the paperwork can wait," Gladys whines.

I bite my lip, trying to come up with a more compelling excuse to stay behind. "It's just... well, you know how busy the streets get. With my luck, I'll get trampled by the crowd before the music starts."

Gladys travels with suspicious eyes over the impressive mass of muscles I've dedicated the last ten years of my life trying to pack onto an otherwise unimpressive 4-foot-11-inch frame. I can tell she's not convinced. And neither is Dr. Weber.

But the truth is, I'm terrified of running into Zane. There’s a good chance he’s home for the holidays and staying with his parents on the other side of town. Parents I've never even met, despite our whirlwind romance earlier this year. To say I'm still bitter may be a gross understatement.

"I hear some of the troops are coming down from Fort Drum for the parade," Gladys adds in a last-ditch effort to sway my decision. "Didn't you used to date one of those nice Army boys, dear?"

I wince, feeling my cheeks flush. "Briefly," I mutter, avoiding eye contact.

Dr. Weber clears his throat, keenly picking up on my anguish. "Now, Gladys, let's not pry into personal matters."

"You know what?" I say, forcing a smile. "Why don't you two go on and enjoy the festival? I'll stay here and close up."

Gladys's face falls flat. "Shay, dear, don't be silly. It's Christmas! You simply can't spend the rest of the day here alone."

"Christmas Eve," I remind her, fighting to keep my voice casual. "And someone needs to stay in case there's an emergency. Besides, I'm not alone. I’ve got Brandon to keep me company."

As if on cue, my fluffy companion lets out a soft meow from his perch on the reception desk.

"See?" I gesture to him. "We'll be fine. Go have fun."

Dr. Weber studies my eyes and then gives a satisfactory nod. "Alright, Gladys. You heard the Doctor. Shay, you call me if you need anything, okay?"

I smile and return his nod, watching as they gather their things. And when the door closes behind them, I let out a sigh of relief.

Quiet at last.

Brandon jumps down from the desk and pads over to watch Gladys's and Dr. Weber's cars disappear down Custer Street, and suddenly, I can't shake the feeling that something is off. Then again, I'm not used to being at the clinic all by myself, either. Feeling restless, I flip the channel on the flatscreen to TMZ and catch up on the latest celebrity gossip while seeing if I have any new likes on Cupid’s Hub. There are two since the last time I checked.

ArmyAce223 says, “Not here for a long time. Here for a good time.” Likes ice cold beer with the boys, country music, women with tattoos, and fast cars. Location: Fort Drum. Ugh. Another grunt. Swipe left.

FairlyOddScientist says, “Looking for the Wanda to my Cosmo.” Enjoys pickleball, spicy food, musicals, and cuddling on the couch with my special someone. Location: Watertown, New York. I mean, at least he’s not military. But it’s still a hard pass. I hate musicals and cuddling. Swipe left.

I sigh and drop my phone on the reception desk, picking up a few files from Gladys’s stack to review instead. “Well, B. Looks like it’s still us against the world.” I plop down into the squeaky desk chair while Brandon ignores me and settles into his favorite spot under the Christmas tree in the corner like it was just another Tuesday at the office.

Now, if only I could convince myself the same.