Rusty pauses at the intersection of Meridian and Towne Boulevard. I don't need to pull the reins to slow him. He knows these routes as well as I do.

The massive Christmas tree looms over us like an omen, a reminder that the holidays are weeks away. Wrapped in garland, bows, and jeweled bulbs, it remains dark. The tree-lighting ceremony is on Christmas Eve like it isn't a matter of flipping a stupid switch.

"Oh my goodness, Grant!" The woman gushes behind me. "Look! It's so beautiful."

I imagine her huddling with her husband, fingers laced against the cold. Knees touching under the blanket, her head on his shoulder. Perfect post-card bliss, memories misting in the cool night air.

"We'll have to come back for the ceremony, huh, Melissa?" Grant replies.

"Oh, I'm sure the view is simply fantastic." Melissa swoons. "All those lights, the shoppers, the carolers."

Ugh.

Our college borough becomes a regular old Tinsel Towne around the holidays. Visiting parents and folks from the neighboring cities pour in for their own Hallmark Card experience. If there's a romantic wintertime trope, we've got it.

"No better sight in all of Antioch." I declare with forced cheer. Might as well sell it.

Tourists are how Rusty and I make our living after the fall market season. The additional income keeps me comfortable between shows. Training for equestrian events is year-round, but the colder months see a decline.

Pulling back into my lane, I hop down and lower the steps. Opening the small half-door, I take Melissa's hand and assist her down onto the street. Grant follows shortly afterward, slips cash plus a generous tip via handshake.

"Thanks for the ride, young man," he states, absolutely beaming.

I nod but can't manage to meet the smile. "Of course, Sir."

Melissa pats Rusty's neck. "You too, big guy."

Rusty nickers, earning a giggle. Grant takes her hand, pulls her away, and peppers her neck with kisses.

I wait until they're out of earshot before reaching up to rub Rusty's ears. "Good thing you're charming."

He whinnies loudly, shakes his head in an avalanche of sleigh bell music.

Laughing, I scrub his thick neck. "Is that so? You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

A nicker, flick of his ears.

"Right," I agree. "Carrot break. I'll just clean out and be right back."

Rusty is 19-hands of purebred Clydesdale. I've had him since we were both colts. Since before my Dad died, before he left me the ranch. Before her.

It's starting to snow, so I pull up the carriage cover. Brushing off the powder, I refold the blanket and reposition the cushions. Patting Rusty's rump, I head toward the small stand selling coffee.

"Evening Forest," Mrs. Stokoe greets. "Hot chocolate with marshmallows?"

I wrinkle my nose. "Coffee. Black."

She rolls her eyes but pours it regardless. "One of these days, you'll try it. Get into the holiday spirit, you know?"

"The only holiday spirit I need is some Tennessee whiskey and a warm fire," I return and pay. Cup in hand, I raise it to her in a mock toast. "Have a good night, Mrs. Stokoe."

She gives me a sad smile from under her pom-pommed hat. "You too, Forest."

A gaggle of girls hover nearby, whispering as I crunch along the slush-slick street.

"He's so weird."

"Kinda hot, though."

"Shh! They say he murdered his old man."

"What? No!"

"Yeah! That's why his fiancée left."

I ignore them, open the carriage seat for the bag of carrots. It's nothing I haven't heard before. Really, I prefer solitude, allow the rumors. Keeps the locals away.

Rusty peers at me over his blinders, eager for the carrot. Pulling off my glove, I smooth my fingers over his flank, massive shoulders, under his mane. I break off a vegetable piece, flatten my hand, smile as his velvet nose and prickly whiskers lip up the treat.

"He's beautiful,"comes a gentle voice.