The Christmas Pony

By Sarah M. Anderson

What’s Alice supposed to do with a pony? The teacher only knows the animal was left on her porch right before Christmas. Then handsome Animal Control Officer Kirk Douglas shows up, asking questions that Alice prefers not to answer. But even the mystery surrounding the animal’s origins can’t stop the holiday spark that ignites between Alice and Kirk. Can their attraction survive ugly-sweater parties, well-meaning relatives and the Christmas pony?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Sep 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094425320

Sarah M. Anderson

Sarah M. Anderson won RT Reviewer's Choice 2012 Desire of the Year for A Man of Privilege. The Nanny Plan was a 2016 RITA® winner for Contemporary Romance: Short. Find out more about Sarah's love of cowboys at www.sarahmanderson.com

Book preview

Chapter One

Señora?

Alice Moore opened the screen door and took a step out onto the porch as if she were moving in a dream. The brisk December wind cut through her trousers. She’d only been home for five minutes—she was still in her teaching clothes, for heaven’s sake. She was not ready for this. Mr. Rodriguez? Is that a…

Sí, the small man said, smiling widely. It didn’t reach his eyes. I want to give to you.

Alice blinked. Maybe she should pinch herself? Because the fact that Mr. Rodriguez was standing on her front porch—with a small black horse—had to be a dream.

The Rodriguez family had only moved into the rental duplex on the corner of Alice’s block a few months ago. She didn’t know them well—the wife, Maria, was a bilingual nurse with the Health Department and their younger daughter, Eva, was in Alice’s class at Brittany Hills Elementary School. Although Alice hadn’t spoken with Elijah Rodriguez much—he worked nights and was taking English as a Second Language classes, she knew from talking to Maria—they seemed a lovely family. When they’d moved in, Alice had done what she always did for newcomers—she’d baked cookies and made friends. Eva and her older sister Lupe were delights. Alice had paid them ten dollars each to help set up her Christmas decorations on the lawn.

Their rental property didn’t allow pets. Eva had written a persuasive essay in class on why dogs should be allowed. At no point had there been any mention of horses.

This had to be a dream. It was the only reasonable assumption at this point. She’d had a long day teaching fifth graders how to subtract fractions and she had come home and taken a nap and now there was a beautiful little black horse on her doorstep.

If she were going to dream up a knight in shining armor, complete with horse, she wouldn’t exactly pick Mr. Rodriguez. She’d pick someone who looked like Harrison Ford, circa Indiana Jones. A dashing rogue with a sense of humor—and not married. Definitely not married.

Then the horse lifted its tail and deposited a rather fragrant load on her welcome mat and Alice realized that this was happening. Mr. Rodriguez, you have a horse!

Sí, sí—Pele. For you. And the man actually held out the rope clipped to the harness around the horse’s head to her.

Mr. Rodriguez, Alice sputtered, trying not to breathe through her nose. Or her mouth. You can’t give me a horse!

Not for you, he protested. For the little girl. For Christmas. Girls love horses. As he said it, he sounded truly sad.

Vera, Alice’s granddaughter, would indeed love a horse for Christmas—but she was two and a half. No one in their right minds bought a preschooler a horse, and her mother, Amy, would have Alice’s head on a platter. I can’t…

But then, plastered smile still on his face, he looked back down the street. Alice followed his gaze. She didn’t see anything, but there was no missing the tension in Mr. Rodriguez’s posture.

That, combined with the way his normally generous smile didn’t reach his eyes… All of Alice’s instincts for sniffing out trouble kicked in. Mr. Rodriguez, what’s going on?

Pele made a mess. I put him in your yard, sí? And I get a shovel. Your little girl love her own horse!

Before she could stop him, he’d led the horse—Pele?—down the stairs and was heading around to her backyard. "Mr. Rodriguez! Elijah! Wait!"

He didn’t listen, nor did he turn that horse around. And she couldn’t follow him because she’d only gotten as far as kicking off her flats. She was not about to chase after a horse in her knee-highs. Horse poop would be the least of her worries.

She ran back into her house, shoving her tired feet back into the flats and hurrying for the back door. She could not let that man leave that horse here. This wasn’t a farm—they lived in a residential neighborhood!

But by the time she made it to the backyard, Mr. Rodriguez was gone. There was no sign of him, just a pretty horse nipping at the dead grass. She did pinch herself then.

The horse lifted his head, nickered at her, and peed all over the flowerbed.

For heaven’s sake.

Okay, this was a problem. But Alice hadn’t made it through a twenty-five year career teaching fifth graders without learning how to stay calm in the face of epic, complete disaster. She could keep a classroom of rambunctious children from falling apart come heck or high water. The time poor little Laurence had panicked during a math test and wet his pants? Alice had handled it. When Jimmy had passed out at the sight of blood? No problem. When Laci had literally flipped a desk and charged at Devon over a nose-picking rumor? Alice had managed to keep the classroom from devolving into a riot.

This was just a horse. She could handle this.

The horse made no move to bolt from the backyard and Alice was still in her teaching clothes. She was not about to shovel horse poop in a poly-blend blouse.

So she’d change, clean up the mess, and then figure out what to do with Pele. And at no point did that plan including sticking a large bow on the animal and driving him to her daughter’s house in Olathe, Kansas.

Amy would kill her if Alice showed up with a horse for Vera. There was a lot of latitude in being a grandmother with her first grandbaby, but even Alice knew a horse was over the line.

She hurried back into the bedroom of her small bungalow and dug out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt. As she was struggling out of her hosiery, the phone rang.

That did it. Tonight, after she’d gotten the horse to wherever he needed to go, she was opening a bottle of wine. Thursdays be darned.

Hello?

Hi, Mom. Amy. She sounded frustrated. You are not going to believe the day I had. Vera—

Well, she could join the club. A loud thunk came from the backyard. Lord,