A sheriff, an elf, and a reindeer…

No, it’s not the start of a joke. :) It’s the very first Christmas story I wrote, a novella titled SAVING THE SHERIFF. The hero, a sheriff, is looking after his friends’ ranch during the holidays, when he discovers a woman dressed as an elf and a trailer of “reindeer” stuck in the snow. He’s a bit uptight, she’s a free spirit but when they get stormed in, they discover they have more in common than they thought.

Here’s a snippet for you:

“Help you?”

Frankie jumped and dropped her flashlight. Bone-deep instinct kicked in, a primal watch out, honey! Not necessarily danger…but maybe.

Two words, and oh, baby. No gruff old-timer, his voice sounded young, strong…and smoky, full of…campfire stories…and marshmallows roasted on fresh-cut branches…

She gave her head a shake. Don’t be an idiot, Frankie.

He was a man with a truck.

“I’m stuck.” She put on her most innocent grin and faced the headlights. She couldn’t see a thing through the snow. “Can you help me out?”

Three River was supposed to be empty over Christmas. At least, the ranch’s Facebook page had indicated the family was in Maui. The mustang sanctuary was well-known among animal lovers and Frankie felt certain they’d have helped her cause, if she could have asked them. So she’d taken a chance that they wouldn’t mind. That in fact, they’d never know.

Yet here was a man, from what she could hear over the snarl of engines and wind. A man unexpected, in every way.

But what if he was private security? Or worse, a game warden.

Stop it! Think positively, Frankie!

Maybe, despite the little mishap with the ditch, the universe was on her side after all. Maybe this was just a kindhearted local who’d be delighted to help out a damsel in distress.

The man stepped out, leaving the engine running and the driver’s door standing open. This time she caught a glimpse of a cowboy hat and beneath it, a stubbled jawline. Broad shoulders. And tall. He held up a much better flashlight than the one she had, shining it high, scanning the truck, the listing trailer. Then scanning her. The beam of light traveled over her body, up and down, leaving no inch untouched. Warmth rose to her cheeks, prickly in the winter air.

“Wanna tell me who you are and what you’re doing here?” He cleared his throat and she thought she heard the glimmer of a smile. “Lost on your way to work?”

“Ha-ha.” She sighed and stamped her feet, aching with cold now that she was standing still. “Yes, I’m wearing an elf costume. Can you pull me out or what?”

He walked up to the trailer and shone the beam inside. He moved smoothly, deliberately—like a hunter she thought, her breath quickening.

“That option disappeared about six inches ago, I’d say.” The man knocked his fist against the side of the truck, the metal echoing hollowly, and then he moved the light off her and aimed it out into the empty field. “Red LeClair, Lutherton sheriff and currently in charge of this icy little slice of heaven. Wanna tell me what’s going on out here? Ma’am?”

Sheriff! Universe: home run, Frankie: out.

Frankie followed his light where it dissolved in the darkness, watched it catch on low shrubs and rocks sticking up through the snow. She swept a gloved hand over her cheek and bit her lip. She’d expected the animals to bound off into the sunset the second she opened the trailer, but it hadn’t happened like that. They’d wandered off to the nearest wooded area, but that’s as far as they’d gone. At least the snow was coming down so hard and fast their hoofprints were nearly covered already. But would they find the food set out for the mustangs? They wouldn’t last long in this weather.

Go! Run! She urged them silently. Had she been too late? Were they already too habituated to humans? This was the perfect location for them. Perfect!

As his light moved, she could see the gleam of eyes, still watching from the woods. Darn!

“What this looks like,” he said, clicking off his light and crossing his arms, “is trespassing. For starters.”“Look,” she said, eager to draw his attention back. “I’m sure this looks a little…odd—”

She swallowed. “Technically, you might have a point. But I can explain.”

“How about we start with your license and registration, please. Ma’am.”

And that’s when Frankie began to suspect the universe wasn’t just having a little fun at her expense, but was in fact a PMSing

hag. She rummaged through the glove box until she found the crumpled insurance papers belonging to Conrad Toole, the man who owned the truck and the dilapidated roadside Christmas display she’d been part of. Until tonight, when she’d liberated the five young elk he’d been parading as reindeer.

She could see how this might appear sketchy.