Page 27 of A Raging Merry Christmas
“Here. Call it. That’s the team Mom employs for shit like this. They love wrapping presents.” Jared handed over a number, and we all sighed. One nasty task down.
Wild, Cowboy, Ghost, Volcano, and Spike - Wild’s POV
“We are meant to put this up?” Volcano demanded.
“Yeah. It was delivered this morning, and Drake said we had to put it together,” I complained.
Ghost snorted as Cowboy and Spike swapped glances.
“We’re going to build a Santa’s grotto?” Cowboy questioned.
“Don’t ask me. Drake told me to get my ass here, so I did,” I bitched.
It was snowing heavily, and I didn’t want to be out here, but with only a few days left until Christmas, Drake had dumped this on us.
“Well, I suppose at least they put the stuff where Phoe wanted it fitted up,” Ghost said. “Because I have no clue how to plan a Santa’s village.”
“Stop complaining, and let’s get building. Do we have drills and shit?” Volcano griped. “I really don’t see why Pops and I have to do this.”
“Because as your pops is so fond of yelling, he’s a founder,” I retorted, and everybody glared at Spike.
“Why does that mean I have to be out here?” Spike snapped.
“Because Axel already bagged Santa. Which means you get to build his village,” I quipped, happy to make Spike unhappy. After all, if I had to be miserable, so did everyone else.
“Can we just get this shit done?” Ghost demanded.
“Sure. There are thirty buildings scattered around the Hall. There are twelve in the clearing where Santa’s home is. Drake’s put us on that and the prospects on the other eighteen. Let’s get some tools and bang this out,” Cowboy said.
I hated my little brother sometimes. He never seemed fazed by much, and by the small smile on his face, I knew he was thinking of Jemma. I couldn’t blame him; Lynda was never far from my mind. She was at work at the moment but would be home soon.
Lynda had been training another doctor to work by her side at the burns clinic she’d set up. The fact the technique worked on other damage and reduced scars was becoming more well-known, and Lynda was overworked. I was hoping this new doc would allow Lynda some time off because my wife was nothing if not dedicated to her patients.
We headed into the clearing, ignoring the snow, which seemed steady although still heavy. There, we found large piles placed in a semi-circle with a massive one in the middle. Clearly, that was Santa’s house.
“Split into two teams, and we can do this quicker,” Spike ordered, and we rolled our eyes, but nobody spoke up.
Cowboy and I approached the first pile. Basically, it was four sides with a roof to be screwed on. There were flower boxes, a chimney, fireplace, and some pieces of furniture that also needed setting up. I was rather surprised at how easily it went up. Mainly because everything was labelled to make it so that a five-year-old could build it. There was some wiring for lights that had a plug-in that fitted into a battery-operated socket box.
“Didn’t take long,” Cowboy said forty minutes later.
“No, for once, something was easy. Let’s get these others up,” I replied.
It took us all morning and half the afternoon to fit up the twelve houses, and I had to admit, it looked pretty good. Night was falling, and the lights in the houses shone brilliantly, a welcoming beacon in the darkness.
“Turn them off, and let’s get some dinner,” Spike ordered.
“Not time yet,” Volcano retorted.
“There’ll be snacks. We need to kidnap that Mrs Ames. She’s a wonderful cook,” Spike muttered to Volcano.
“Phoe will kill you herself,” I interrupted cheerfully. It would take care of one problem.
“Shut it, you whippersnapper,” Spike snapped.
We all chuckled loudly as Spike glowered.
“What—what the hell, Pops?” Volcano stuttered as he laughed.