Noel: All I Want For Christmas Teen Romance, #3

By Mattie Fern Worrix

Andi Coriander and her standard poodle, Noel, are spending winter break helping out at her family's busy pet grooming salon.

But when things get cozy with cute neighbor Charlie Pruett, will he make her secret Christmas wish come true?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mattie Fern Worrix
• Release date: Dec 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393964032

Book preview

Dedication

For my standard poodle ~ the pretty Pawlette

Je suis enchanté, mon grand chien

Chapter 1 - Andi

QUIT BEING SUCH A BRAT, I scolded Noel, as she tried to wrestle her big paw out of my hand. You’re looking Dr. Seuss-ian with these furry feet.

My 67 pound white standard poodle, Noel, looked down her long, snooty nose at me from her perch on my grooming table. Tall and lean and lovely, she reminds me of a canine version of a supermodel in Vogue magazine.

What’s with all the attitude? I asked, and spit dog hair out of my mouth. She acts like I’m freakin’ trying to kill her—and all I’m trying to do is shave the fuzzy hair on the pads of her paws. With my free hand I reached up to scratch her ears—to make nice—but she continued to give me her most pathetic hangdog look.

Good grief, I muttered, and let out a cranky sigh as I turned off the ruby red Mini Arco trimmer.

I wiped flying dog hair and stinging sweat out of my eyes. Whew, I’m sweating like a freakin’ racehorse, and it’s the middle of December in Oregon. The weather outside is frightful—cold icy rain—but inside the Wizard of Paws Pet Grooming Salon it’s as muggy as the Sparrow City Swimming Center.

My mom and dad, groomers and owners of the shop, are always on the eternal search for the perfect dehumidifier. One that keeps the shop from being so muggy. Because all that moisture in the air means it takes longer to dry the dogs.

And in a fast food, fast wifi, fast everything world we live in, owners want their pets groomed fast. We’re always explaining to them that working on live animals is not the same as having an oil change at Jiffy Lube.

I looked over at my dad working at the grooming table across the room next to the large apricot poodle mural on the wall. He wore a blue hospital mask and his black scrub top with jeans, and was using a stand dryer on Moose, the handsome blue-eyed husky mix. With each stroke of my dad’s slicker brush, tiny tufts of Moose’s hair floated in the air.

Nobody ever asks my opinion, cause I’m just a 14-year-old kid, but I know exactly why the dehumidifiers don’t last around here. The evidence is drifting in air, right in front of, and in, our eyes. Deshedding a husky is like trekking through a snowstorm—only instead of snow, you’re facing all that hair. Flying into your eyes, flying up your nose, flying into your mouth. Furry snow flurries.

And, ya know, eating dog hair SHOULD gross me out. Here at the shop we always end up eating some with our lunch. Like today, I ate a peanut butter—and Shih Tzu hair—sandwich.

Poodle hair, of course, doesn’t shed but when you clip the hair it still gets on my sandwich and in my tea mug. It still manages to work tiny splinter size pieces into the webbing between my fingers.

Hair happens.

Especially at a grooming shop.

Which is why I need allergy tablets year round.

Anyway, as I was saying, I can eat hair all day at the shop and not blink an eye—but once I found a long stringy black one in my taco salad at Bobby’s Burritos and I got totally grossed out.

Gag me with a spoon.

Noel sneezed at me, wanting my attention so I started to turn my trimmer back on, when Mom came from the bathing room with a little black Pomeranian named Bear wrapped in a towel and clutched in her arms. He’s so cute, he could be Smokey the Bear’s son.

Be firm with her, Mom called to me, as she headed over to her grooming table. Noel’s tail wagged gleefully, at seeing my mom and hearing her voice. She thinks Mom is gonna save her.

I am, I said, and dodged Noel’s tail as she tried to whip me in the face with it. But she’s still being a pain.

People probably think groomer’s dogs are really good about being groomed but, at least in Noel’s case, that is so not true.

My mom and dad have groomed her every 8 to 10 weeks since she came to live with us as a puppy. And back then she was super cute—a white ball of fluff with the sweetest puppy breath.

But, from day one, she’s never liked being groomed. Especially the bath and having her nails clipped—and her paws shaved.

Or the scissoring.

If it were up to me I’d leave her all shaggy and tell people she’s a doodle. No one would ever know she’s a French poodle underneath all that hair.

Mom wants me to practice and learn how to clip her myself. My parents taught me how to bathe and fluff-dry the canine customers at the Wizard of Paws but Mom says I have to learn how to do everything else on Noel. Learn to shave her feet and face and tummy. And, with practice, learn how to do a fancy poodle clip on her.

In other words, they don’t trust me to work on customers’ dogs with the clippers and scissors yet. Mom says I need tons of practice in order to become a good groomer. So I guess Noel is my guinea pig.

And Dad said it wouldn’t hurt to go to dog grooming school either, after high school, if I decide to carry on the family business. Eugene has a brand new pet grooming academy, called Diamonds in the Ruff, out near Valley River Center.

Noel stared down at me and sneezed again. For all her stubbornness about being groomed, we’re still best buds. Like sisters, I guess, but I can tell she thinks she’s higher in the pack than me.

She sees Mom and