“Are you all right?” Arthur asked, leaning over close enough that I could hear him as we bounced and jostled along the tree-lined pathway.

I peeked up with my still-open left eye, and somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me I probably looked like a pirate.

“Yeah,” I muttered, because, really, I was. This was hardly a grievous injury. Merely an irritation. But, damn, it irritated.

Arthur unzipped his jacket to reach inside to an interior pocket and withdrew a packet of tissues, which he offered to me.

“Here.”

I hesitated then took a sheet.

“Thanks,” I told him, then noticed the tissue bore a reindeer pattern. Of course.

It was difficult to imagine Brody carrying a packet of tissues. About the only thing Brody always had at the ready was one of those tiny dispensers of Listerine Cool Mint strips so his breath was fresh in case a spontaneous make-out session opportunity presented itself. Which, with Brody, it often had. Not that I ever complained. He was a good kisser.

The memory of Brody and his handsome face swam into my brain and for a moment I felt a pang of missing him, the way he felt when he held me, the cool spice of his aftershave. Then the image of Brody the last time I saw him, making out with Mia, appeared and the pang of longing vanished.

I wiped my eye until the irritation had diminished and smiled my thanks to Arthur.

He nodded but said nothing, and for a moment, things seemed almost normal.

Until Calliope started honking, which was a sound reindeer made. Along with huffing and grunting. And she started making these noises in rapid succession.

I doubt I would have been concerned—what did I know about reindeer noises?—if I hadn’t caught a glimpse of the look between the Moses twins, who seemed a wee bit perplexed.

Things escalated quickly from there.

Being in the third row, with Dad, Aunt Esha, and the twins between me and the reindeer, I didn’t exactly have the best vantage point for what sparked what would later become known as the Reindeer Romp, but for reasons known only to Calliope, she started giving attitude to Erato—slamming antlers against hers, hockey-checking her side—who, in turn, wasn’t having any of it and gave as good as she got.

And in the blink of a non-irritated eye, they started running.

I don’t know if they thought they could escape each other, but the end result was the sleigh suddenly took off flying!

Okay, we never actually flew—they weren’t those kinds of reindeer—but Calliope and Erato ran like they thought they could.

Everyone in the sleigh was slammed around in varying degrees of “oooomph!” and “aaaaah!” and “shit!”

Sidebar, did you know reindeer can run between thirty-five and fifty miles an hour? It’s a fact I learned the hard way. Super fun.