A Christmas in Oakridge (Short Story Bonus)

It’s early December in Oakridge. Meredith and Damon are settling into their new life on the ranch. Snow blankets the hills, the townspeople are buzzing with festive cheer, and holiday chaos is inevitable. Between baking disasters, rogue goats, mechanical bull “reindeer,” and a chaotic community feast, Meredith and Damon navigate their first Christmas as a married couple — discovering love, family, and laughter in all its messy glory.

Enjoy this short bonus with the Oakridge family led by Meredith's POV only.

I woke to the smell of woodsmoke and the soft hush of snow outside the ranch windows. It was early December, and the first flakes of the season had blanketed the hills in white. The kind of snow that made the world quieter, prettier, and, apparently, way more chaotic.

I stepped out of bed in my flannel pajamas — Damon’s, naturally — and rubbed my eyes. The sun was just hitting the top of the barn, golden light spilling across the yard. And there it was. The goat. Again. Wearing a Santa hat. Like it had always wanted to be festive.

I blinked at it. “Really?”

The goat stared back, unimpressed, chewing on a stray ribbon from last night’s impromptu decorations. Somehow, it had gotten its hooves tangled in twine. I sighed. “Of course. Welcome to December at Oakridge.”

Damon appeared in the doorway, hair sticking up like he’d wrestled with a blanket monster all night. “Morning,” he said, blinking at the snow.

I pointed at the goat. “Your turn to untangle it.”

He squinted at me, then at the goat, then at the snow. “Or… maybe it untangles itself?”

“You say that like it’s a reasonable possibility,” I muttered.

By the time we shuffled outside, the ranch was fully alive in that cozy, chaotic way only Oakridge could manage. Snow coated the rooflines. Icicles hung off the fence posts. Damon had attempted to hang string lights himself, which mostly looked like tangled spaghetti draped across the barn.

“Hmm,” I said, surveying the scene. “It’s… festive?”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Rustic charm?”

I laughed. “Rustic disaster.”

The goat decided this was the perfect moment to leap onto the porch, sending a pile of twine rolling across the steps. Damon lunged after it, slipping on a patch of ice and crashing into the snow. I doubled over laughing, clutching my stomach.

“You okay?” I managed between giggles.

“Peachy,” he muttered, snow covering one shoulder, hat crooked. “This is… fine. Totally fine.”

Before we could argue further, the front gate burst open and Rosa appeared, arms loaded with boxes. “¡Buenos días, mija! ¡Buenos días, hijo!” she called, smiling like she owned the sunrise.

“Good morning, mom,” Damon said cautiously, eyeing her like she might explode into glitter at any moment.

“Morning!” I added. “And what do you have there?”

Rosa set the boxes down dramatically. “Decorations. Gifts. Cocoa. Emergency tamales. You know, Christmas essentials.”

“Of course,” I said, trying not to laugh at the sheer intentional chaos she radiated.

“And—” she waved a hand toward the barn lights. “I may have… started early.”

I froze. “Started?”

Damon gave me a look that clearly said Oh no.

We rounded the barn and discovered she’d strung lights everywhere — the barn, the fence, the porch, even the goat’s tether post. Somehow, the goat had a tiny wreath around its neck.

“You… you did all this?” I asked slowly.

Rosa crossed her arms. “Sí. And it’s perfect. Don’t argue. Chaos and charm are what Oakridge does best.”

The goat bleated in agreement — or maybe protest. I wasn’t entirely sure.

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Meredith, did you see this before I did?”

I shook my head, laughing. “Nope. Not a thing. But it’s beautiful. And ridiculous. And exactly Oakridge.”

Rosa clapped her hands. “Good. Now, we begin Christmas!”

The goat, apparently inspired, dashed straight for the pile of ribbons and lights. Damon lunged to stop it, slipping on ice again. I fell laughing, helping him up.

“Okay,” he muttered, dusting himself off. “Maybe we did need help.”

I smiled, brushing snow off my flannel. “Yeah. We absolutely did.”

We spent the next half-hour in what can only be described as organized chaos. Damon tried to untangle the lights with the goat circling like a mischievous little elf. Every time he got a loop untwisted, the goat stepped right into the middle of it. I laughed so hard I almost forgot to breathe.

“Meredith!” Damon yelled. “Seriously, hold this end while I—”

And of course, the goat lunged at him mid-sentence, sending him backward into a snowdrift. I grabbed the twine, tugging the goat away, but it darted right at me instead, tangling us all together. There we were: me, Damon, and the goat, a three-person knot in the middle of the snowy yard.

“I think we just invented a new Christmas tradition,” I gasped between laughs.

“You mean… not dying from laughter?” Damon replied, eyes squinting but smiling.

“Exactly!” I said. “We’ll call it Goat Tangle 2025. Only in Oakridge.”

By the time Rosa stepped in, arms on her hips and shaking her head, we were practically snow angels tangled in ribbon. “¡Ay, dios mío!” she exclaimed. “And I thought I was the chaos queen!”

Rosa swiftly took control, disentangling the three of us like a drill sergeant. “Listen, mija, you two are hopeless. Let me handle the decorations. You just… stand there and look pretty.”

I gave Damon a look. “This is our life now, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Apparently so. And it’s fantastic.”

Rosa began methodically decorating — stringing lights, hanging wreaths, placing cocoa mugs with marshmallows, and generally imposing order. Meanwhile, the goat, unconcerned with any human attempts at organization, pranced about like a tiny reindeer, occasionally stealing ribbons or curling up inside a wreath.

By late morning, the yard looked… spectacularly chaotic. Twinkling lights reflected on snowdrifts, the goat wore its festive wreath like a crown, and we had more cocoa than humanly possible. Damon leaned against the porch railing, tired but grinning.

“I’m never letting you two decorate without me again,” Rosa said, but her voice held laughter. “Next time, I’m assigning tasks… and the goat’s on leash.”

I sipped my cocoa and nodded solemnly. “Agreed. Chaos without rules is… still chaos.”

And yet, amidst the mess, the cold, and the goat’s continual mischief, I felt it. That warm, stretching feeling of home.

Damon nudged me with his elbow. “You know,” he said quietly, “this? Right here? This is what I think the Holidays is supposed to be.”

I looked at him, then at the snow-covered yard, the goat, Rosa, and the tangled lights. The glow of the sun on the barn, the smell of cocoa and woodsmoke, the laughter bouncing off the fences.

“You’re right,” I said softly. “Absolutely right.”

And for the first time this December, I didn’t think about schedules, perfection, or anything other than the beautiful, ridiculous, chaotic joy of this moment — our first Oakridge almost Christmas together.