Licking His Cane

• Prologue
  
• Licking His Cane
  
• Author’s Note
  
• About the Author
  

Keeping candy in production takes priority during the holidays as she spends time getting some sugar.

Blitzen enjoys fixing things, and the machines that make Christmas sweeter need attention, too. As Belinda Litzen, she is a one-woman repair shop catering to all the overworked bakeries in town.

When a candy shop has a rolling machine down, she shows up to save the day and meets a candy maker who gives her a visual sugar rush.

Rex has been waiting for his reindeer to show up, but the repairwoman was not what he had imagined. Instead of brown, she was golden, and instead of shy, she met his gaze head-on.

She is his first reindeer, and he is her first wolf.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Licking His Cane

Copyright © 2015 by Viola Grace

ISBN: 978-1-987969-10-8

©Cover art by Carmen Waters

All rights reserved. With the exception of review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the express permission of the publisher.

Published by Viola Grace

Look for me online at violagrace.com, Amazon, All Romance eBooks, Smashwords, Kobo, B&N and other eBook sellers.

Licking His Cane

Operation Reindeer Retrieval Book 8

By

Viola Grace

Blitzen wrapped her arms around herself and looked to Ru.

“I have never been alone.” Blitzen frowned and shivered.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I think that the others can have the desired effect.” Ru looked concerned.

“No. I think that I will stick with the original plan. It won’t hurt me to be out in the world for a while, and you know I do love all things mechanical. It will be good for me. I think.”

Ru put her hand on Blitzen’s shoulder. “I will miss you.”

“I will be home soon. The sooner that I leave, the sooner I will be on my way back here.”

Ru chuckled. “You can leave and enjoy yourself. There is no harm in it.”

“I have never really given enjoyment a try.”

Ru rolled her eyes. “I know. You started life as a Quaker, and the simple life has never really left you.”

“You know how terrifying this place was when I first arrived.”

Ru stroked her cheek. “I remember, but this time, the magic is giving you the knowledge that you need. You won’t be pulled out of your time again. If you trust me that this is for the best, I promise you won’t regret it.”

Blitzen nodded and took her folded envelope from her pocket. “Here is the letter. I hope it does some good.”

Ru took it and tucked it into her pocket. “It will. I have a plan for it.”

Blitzen smiled with amusement at the grim grin that Ru was giving her. “Santa is not going to like it, is he?”

“Men rarely like to be slapped in the face with the obvious.”

“Will it slap him?”

“It is going to knock him backward. Now, if you are ready?”

“I am ready.”

Ru unfastened Blitzen’s collar, and the air rushed in and caressed her neck for the first time in centuries. There was a moment of panic, and then, Ru handed her the snowflake. Without hesitation, Blitzen hugged her friend and then pressed the snowflake to her naked neck.

Moments later, a swirl of snow and magic swept her up and Belinda Litzen prepared to start her day.

Belinda worked inside the mechanism of the cookie-stamping machine while the shop owner looked anxiously at her from his office window.

Calibre Cookies had suffered a failure of their most popular shortbread presses, and Belinda had been called in to fix it.

She moved the heavy plates around with ease, knowing what the whole machine was supposed to look like when it functioned properly.

The snowflake magic of an entire year was working inside her to give her the knowledge she needed to fix industrial baking equipment, and she had really enjoyed being around the scents of the holidays, even if it was on a massive scale.

While dangling in the inner workings of the machine, she found what had set it off. Someone had forked the gears. A thick and heavy steel fork that had been wedged into the rotors. The angle she found it at precluded it being an accidental insertion. She pulled it out and tucked it in her tool belt.

The gears, belts and plates went back into place in under an hour. The evening repairs that she engaged in were definitely in need in this town. The ability to call for repairs in the few hours when there wasn’t anyone manning the machines was a boon. She was the only one working off contract at night.

When the machine was ready and the housing was back on, she walked over to the power centre and removed her lockout. She powered up the entire line and started the press. The test batch of dough dumped, was run through the sheeter and, from there, it wedged itself into the mold.

From the mold, it proceeded down to the baking pans until it was ready for the oven. The test batch made six pans with a nice, clear stamp of holiday motifs. The shop owner came out and ran to the line, exhaling a deep sigh of relief at the images on the line.

“I don’t know how you did that, but thank you.”

“I will email you the invoice. Oh, and this was what caused the problem.” She pulled the mangled fork out of her pocket. “I would say you have a morale problem or someone wanted to slow you down.”

Harold Derkeson blinked down at the fork in her hand.

Belinda hit the power unit for the cookie press, and she turned the whole thing off. She passed him the fork and continued with the inevitable.

“Well, it is working now, so I will just get my things and get on to my next call.” She nodded and gathered her wrenches.

She took out her phone, and she thumbed the screen until the invoice was sent. Belinda smiled brightly. “I arrived quickly, I would appreciate payment quickly.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He looked down at the fork, and he was obviously still stunned.

She grabbed her kit and headed out the back door. It was always painful to see that moment of realization when they suspected that the machines had been killed on purpose.

Every time she had fixed a unit in the last few weeks, she had enjoyed the power of bringing something thought dead back to life.

The energy of Christmas was hope to some, but since she had become embedded in it, she appreciated the power to shift through the darkest days and come out on the other side. It was survival. She wasn’t able to extend that to humans, but she could definitely show it to machines. Most of the equipment was far older than the workers who loaded it, and its silent ability to fill the hearts and minds of those who consumed their products with memories from generations past was definitely something worth preserving.

Sweet Repairs was her contribution to preserving that bit of the holidays for the next few generations. Bel felt like she was finally doing something
for
Christmases future instead of just on Christmas Eve.

She started up her vehicle and drove the panel truck off into the false dawn.

Five hours of sleep was not enough, but her phone woke her with an annoying rendition of
Jingle Bells.

She cleared her throat and answered with a cheery chirp. “Sweet Repairs. How can I help you?”

“Hello; you have been recommended to me by one of the local bakeries. I have a problem with one of my candy rollers, and we need it back online as quickly as possible.”

“Where are you?”

“Rex’s Candies on Fourth and Main.”

“See you in an hour.”

“Thank you. I am Rex by the way.”

“Bel. I will be on my way shortly.”

She hung up, but she heard him say something in a surprised tone. She would have to ask him about it when she met him. His tone was something she could listen to forever. It rang through the phone like bells in the night.

She ran her hands over her face and smacked her romantic sensibilities. She had a job to do.

The shower wasn’t strictly necessary as she had one after she came home, but it helped clear the cobwebs.

She braided her hair tightly against her skull and tucked it under before getting dressed. Her boiler suit was blindingly white, as suited someone working with food. She could see the smallest speck of anything inappropriate on her clothing for her clients.

She listened to the pop of the toaster and rescued the bagel from purgatory before slathering it with cream cheese. It was white and would not show as she left her small apartment near her workshop and got into her truck.

The winter air kissed her skin and tickled the snowflake on her neck. It suited her work with machines to have a silvery snowflake on her skin, visible to all. Most folks mistook it for a gear.

She followed the directions of her GPS and lucked into a parking spot in front of Rex’s Candies. It was more than luck to find a spot on this bustling street, and part of her smirked as she settled into place.

She slung her toolkit over one shoulder and forged her way into the shop. Normally, she would have gone around the back, but delivery trucks blocked the lane.

Laughter filled the space, and it was nice to hear it in a place where folks were usually fighting for the last gingerbread house.

It was near eleven and the customers were circulating and moving toward the counter in an orderly manner.

Bel shifted toward one of the staff members, and she waved to get her attention.

The woman looked at her, nodded and let out a sharp whistle. “Rex, here boy!”

A wave of anticipation ran through the room, and out of the back strode a man wearing a flour-spattered black shirt and jeans that were officially what Bel wanted to see on him every Christmas.

Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze up to the sleet-grey eyes that were smiling as he brushed a streak of flour away from his forehead. The silver and black hair was braided back the same way that Bel’s was.

He followed the gesture from the woman at the counter to Bel. “May I help you?”

“Sweet Repairs, at your service.” Bel inclined her head.

He looked startled and relieved. “Thank goodness you showed up. We ran out of candy canes last night, and then, the machine sheered one of the pins on the rollers.”

She looked around at the audience that was smiling foolishly at Rex. “Um, lead the way?”

He nodded and turned. She followed the defined vee of his back and hips through the back of the shop, over the glossy floor and to a cordoned-off area draped with plastic in a weird kind of clean room setup.

“Do you always make candy and bake in the same shop?”

Rex shook his head. “No, we subcontract the gingerbread out to a local bakery, but they had a heat problem in their ovens, and we needed to get the components together for our own orders. Our oven is just fine for small batches, but I have been working on this for hours. We can’t do any chocolate in here because it is too hot right now, and I don’t want to fall behind any more than we already are.”

“Well, I will take a look at the wounded roller and see what I can do.” She smiled.

He led her through a prudent three layers of plastic. The layers kept the flour from contaminating the candy roller.

Bel took a look at the machine and nearly wept. It was an antique in beautiful shape with the exception of the dangling roller. “Oh, my darling. Where have you been all my life?”

Rex chuckled. “You seem to have a connection with the roller. I will just leave you two alone.”

She nodded and ran her hand over the roller, waiting until Rex had left her alone with it to heave it out of its setting and put it on the worktable. It was natural wear that brought it to this sad state, and when she pulled the remains of the pin free of the machine, she realized she had forgotten to lock it out.

“Damn it!” She quickly set everything aside and found the cable that connected it to the power in the bench, and she put a locking cap on the plug, just to be sure no one tried to plug it in.

It was a foolish mistake, and it could have cost her her hand.

With everything back to her normally safe arrangements, she took a look at the roller and assessed what was needed to make it roll again.

The pin was fused in the roller, and it was going to take welding to get in back into a workable position. To do that, she was going to have to haul it outside.

Now, there were two ways that she could get the roller out of the building. She could carry it herself, or she could ask for help.

It would be unlikely that a human woman could carry the weight, so she would have to ask for help.