Perhaps he wasn’t Dasher or Rudolph, but wily Wayne just might be a dead-ringer for Cupid!
BY JENNIFER JORDAN
Hannah added yet another task to her extensive to-do list and heaved a weary sigh of frustration. She was way behind with Christmas preparations, her rather eccentric Aunt Winnie was staying with her and only this morning, she’d woken up to find a reindeer casually tugging at the greenery in her garden.
“Should we give it a carrot?” Aunt Winnie had suggested helpfully.
“No, I’m not encouraging it!”
Hannah had seen the trail of damage so far; two broken greenhouse windows, several decimated plants, a chewed tree and a gaping hole in the hedge.
She’d then trudged wearily over the hill behind her cottage and knocked impatiently on the door of the farmhouse. She knew that dear old Fred, who’d kept cows and sheep, was now retired; obviously this new farmer had different ideas and hadn’t got a clue!
“Can I help you? Only I’m trying to run this farm single-handed!”
The good looks of the tall, dark, tousle-haired man who answered the door had grabbed her attention for a moment but he seemed so grumpy, her irritation immediately intensified.
“Well, I’m very busy too!” she’d retaliated stroppily. “You may have noticed that it’s almost Christmas? Well, I have a whole load of stuff to do, and at this very moment a rather large reindeer is on the rampage in my garden!”
“Oh, that must be Wayne!” the man had informed her with a grin.
“Wayne?” Hannah had raised an eyebrow at that.
“Yes, my little niece always used to say ‘waindeer’ so Wayne was an obvious name when I rescued him. He’s always escaping, but don’t worry, he’s such a softie, he wouldn’t . . .”
“Well, I am most certainly not a softie,” Hannah had declared with a determined tilt of her chin. “And Wayne is systematically wrecking and digesting most of my foliage!”
Greg had then introduced himself, promised to repair the damage and insisted on taking her home in his rattly old tractor trailer, along with Tess the sheepdog and a cargo of assorted vegetables. Buffeted by a very brisk easterly wind, Hannah had clung grimly to the sides of the trailer and wondered if her seriously bruised bottom would ever recover as she was jolted and bounced over the frozen terrain.
Any Christmas spirit she may have had was rapidly disappearing, along with all feeling in her hands and feet.
Halfway over the hill, however, she did a double take as she spotted her Aunt Winnie anxiously scurrying along on the horizon. Hannah cupped her hands to her mouth and called but her voice just carri
