“Sorry—” he started to say, then Rick trailed off, finally seeing what had caused his date to hit the brakes.

Rick had lived in Alaska his entire life. Many people he knew were avid hunters, and some relied on hunting and fishing to feed their families throughout the winter. Even though it had always struck him as macabre to mount a trophy animal on a wall, he was used to it. Growing up in Alaska meant one wasn’t a stranger to that sort of thing.

But even he had never seen this much taxidermy in a single room.

“Are they—?” Lana started, sounding startled more than horrified.

“Squirrels.” Rick kept his hand on her hip out of sheer protective instinct. One did not expect to step into a room with taxidermy squirrels everywhere.

“And are they—?”

Rick shuddered. “They’re dressed for the holiday season.”

Looking around, Rick had no idea what to do. Everywhere he looked was another squirrel. One dressed as an early 1900s St. Nick. Others working as elves in Santa’s workshop or loading his sleigh. A Rudolph squirrel stood impatiently with the other reindeer squirrels while excited squirrel children waited by fireplaces in little squirrel pajamas. There were squirrels reenacting the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life and others ice skating beneath a Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.

Someone had put a Ghost of Christmas Future outfit on a particularly grim squirrel, complete with chains and a sickle.

A tall, thin woman in thick-rimmed glasses appeared from the back, blinking in surprise when she saw them. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in. Two for dinner?”

If Lana had run screaming, Rick would have understood. But instead of cringing, his date turned sweetly to the hostess.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Sit wherever you want. We’re empty tonight.”

The hostess handed Rick two menus and promptly disappeared into the back once more. “Carl, we have a two-top,” the hostess yelled, loud enough that they both started.

“Well, I prefer to sit by the window,” Lana said cheerfully as they headed to a table on the far side of the empty dining room.

Rick raised an eyebrow. “Next to Santa’s sleigh?”

“It seems festive.” Festive was one way of putting it. “Have you eaten here before?”

“Do you think I would have dragged you all the way here if I had?” Rick pulled her seat out for her as per card twelve’s recommendation.

“I might question your sense of humor,” she said with a teasing smile.

If she was horrified, she was hiding it well. Now was the time to own up to his mistake or to flat out lie. Rick wasn’t a liar, even when his pride was on the line, so he groaned softly.

“Hey, Lana? You know when you take a beautiful woman out to dinner and you keep driving past all the places because they don’t seem good enough and end up in the worst possible place by accident? It’s something like that.”

The grin she flashed him was full of mischief. “You mean you don’t normally go full squirrel on your first dates?”

“I keep wishing I was back in the resort buying you a steak, but it just isn’t happening.”

“Don’t worry,” Lana reassured him. “I’ve been to every kind of dining experience under the sun. You get points for being original.”

Rick chuckled, resting his arms on the table. “I bet double-dating with Zoey and Graham is sounding better by the minute.”

Lana exhaled a soft laugh. “Trust me, unless they serve squirrel, this is far superior.”

A man appeared from the back, stumping up to their table with two glasses of water in his hands. Early thirties, partially balding, with a pockmarked face and a lingering scent of something sketchy clinging to his clothes, their server did not inspire Rick’s faith that this experience was about to get better.

“I’m Carl,” he grunted at them. “Ma’s in the back. We’re down a cook tonight.” Carl pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, then he read off of it in a bored voice. “Our special is the sausage plate, and we have a stroganoff.”

“What kind of stroganoff?” Rick asked. In this place, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“I don’t know. It’s stroganoff.”

Carl stared at Rick. Rick stared at Carl. Lana raised her glass of water to her lips in an attempt to hide her mirth.

“I’ll ask.” Carl stumped away.

“Do you think it’s squirrel?” Rick asked her, earning another mischievous look from Lana.

“If it is, I’m going to pass. I prefer my adorable chittering creatures happily running around in tree limbs.”

“Not recreating the nativity while you enjoy your meal?”

Lana snickered as she took another drink of her water. “I was trying not to look directly at that one. Or the squirrels in holiday-themed steampunk kissing beneath a mechanical mistletoe.”

A noise had been bothering Rick, familiar but quiet enough that he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Then the sound grew louder, followed by a toy whistle.

“I was wondering what that was,” Lana said. “I love model trains—oh. Oh dear.”

The model train track had been neatly hidden among the other decor, so Rick had missed it until the train came out from a hole in the wall leading to an adjacent room and into the dining room. It wrapped around the outside of the room, passing by them beneath the window.

The train had a conductor. With conductor clothes.

And furry ears.

“If we leave now, it’s only a two-hour drive to McDonald’s,” he said, quietly enough that Carl and his mother wouldn’t hear.

“Yes, but think of the stories we’ll have to tell.” Lana glanced surreptitiously at the room. “How do you think they manage to avoid Harold?”

“Taxidermy isn’t banned in restaurants.”

“True, but nondisclosed meat in ambiguous stroganoff has to be.”

They shared a grin over the table. The menu was—surprising to Rick—mostly Italian-themed dishes and fairly standard options, although many items seemed “house sausage” based. There was literally nothing that would have identified this place as an Italian restaurant, but technically, Italian food was considered a more sensual dining experience.

Squirrels aside, maybe he hadn’t entirely struck out with this one.

When Carl returned, Lana ordered the pasta arrabbiata, the same dish Rick had been eyeballing. Their server looked at them, sighed heavily, and stumped away. In the kitchen, his voice could be heard growling.

“Ma, they got the spicy sauce. I don’t know. Yeah, I told them about the specials.”

“Do you get the feeling that we didn’t order what they wanted?” Lana asked.

Rick didn’t get a chance to answer because Carl stomped his way back to the table. “Ma wants to know if you want the house sausage in your sauce.”

Absolutely not. No way. Hard pass on that.

“No thank you,” Rick said, trying for polite.

“Are you sure?” Carl didn’t seem convinced.

“Pretty sure.”

The train came around a second time, blowing its whistle right next to their table as Carl stared at Rick, eyes unblinking, as if trying to mentally force Rick into caving.

There was no way he was giving in on this, so Rick upped his staring game until Carl grunted and stomped away again.

Lana managed to hide her giggles until Carl disappeared in the back. On a whim, Rick offered his palm to her on top of the table. Bless the woman, she placed her hand in his as if it belonged there.

“You wanted to know something about me,” Rick said. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m the pure evil scourge of the town’s existence. I chase deranged moose in my free time, and I’m absolutely in love with anything baked at Frankie’s. Her food is criminal.”

“Any evil exes I should know about?” The cards said not to mention exes, but the words had come from his mouth before Rick could stop them.

“No one worth mentioning.” She shrugged. “I didn’t date much in my twenties. It was hard to get close to anyone because I never knew if they were interested in me or interested in getting a foot in the door at the Montgomery Group. And since taking on a bigger role in the company, I simply travel too much.” Lana flushed a cute shade of pink. “I suppose you think that I’m wasting your time.”

“Actually, I was thinking that I was pretty lucky. If it helps, I’m not interested in taking over your company. I gave up my desires for economic domination years ago.”

Lana leaned in. “That’s an interesting take for a business owner,” she said with an arch look.

“One business. Imagining owning a hundred businesses like you guys raises my blood pressure.”

A funny expression crossed her face.

“Did I guess too low?” Rick asked.

“A bit.”

Pulling a number out of the air, Rick figuring he was highballing it. “Five hundred?” When she shook her head, he was impressed. “A thousand?”

“After the recent Moose Springs acquisition, the Montgomery Group owns over a quarter of a million properties currently being subleased to commercial and private business owners. Such as yourself.”

Rick choked on his water, then tried to cover by coughing. “Sorry. And what part do you manage?”

“The parts that like to cause problems,” Lana said jokingly. “So aside from Diego, do you have any other family around here?”

“Nope, it’s just me.” Rick held Lana’s eyes. “And you changed the subject. Don’t like talking about work?”

“Talking about work is dangerously close to talking about my family. And trust me, we’re going to need something stronger than water to dip into that mess.”

“Would you like something stronger?”

She smiled at him. “I’m not above a glass of wine with my meal. Maybe once we return to town though. You might need backup with Carl.”