If the Shetland pony wasn’t the star attraction as “Rudolph” at the Christmas party, Kip would’ve suggested to Del and Shaye that they make Dudley an addition to Due South’s menu. West held the pony’s lead rope at the bottom of the hill below Shaye’s house, while he and Kip waited for Santa’s little helper, a.k.a Carly, to arrive. Dudley, once again, decided the voluminous Santa suit hid more carrots, and he shoved his muzzle into Kip’s groin. Kip jerked his hips to the side before Dudley’s teeth latched on to something that wasn’t a carrot. “Quit it, you crazy horse.” “Think he likes you, mate.” West patted the pony’s brown-and-white splotched back. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.” “Piss off, Westlake.” He moved a safe distance away and readjusted his Santa-pants—or giant red bloomers, as Piper had called them when she’d helped him suit up while West collected Dudley from his owner.
