4. Declan
4
DECLAN
There’s a lightness in my chest as I get ready for work this morning, and it has everything to do with the curvy beauty who will be arriving at the farm in thirty minutes. It’s Margot’s first day, and I’ve been desperate to see her again ever since she left. There’s no damn logic to these feelings. She’s a stranger, but somehow, she’s already managed to take over all my thoughts. I spend a lot longer than usual trying to make my unruly beard look neater before I head out the front door of my cabin. The frozen lake is lit up by the morning sun, glowing a frosty blue color that reminds me of Margot’s eyes.
Goddammit, why am I thinking like a poet?
I’m a simple guy. Always have been. My family and the farm: those are the only two things I’ve ever cared about, yet here I am, obsessing over a stranger’s eye color. It makes no sense, but as I stride through the Christmas trees, my heart starts to pound like a bass drum, a firm thud, thud, thud that courses through my body.
As I approach the barn, my brother is leaving it, holding a cup of cocoa in one hand and his axe in the other.
“Morning,” he says, nodding at me. “I’m going to chop down a couple of pines. You want to do the Douglas firs?”
“Not right now.” I try to keep my face neutral. “I hired somebody yesterday, so I’ll be showing her the ropes this morning.”
Nolan cocks his head. “You hired someone?”
“Yeah, a girl called Margot. She saw one of your fliers.”
He takes a sip of his cocoa. “Interesting.”
I frown at him. Nolan has a way of looking at you like he knows all your secrets, and I’m convinced my thoughts about Margot are written all over my face.
“What’s interesting?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
Nolan shrugs. “Yesterday, you were pissed I wanted to hire someone. I thought it would take longer for you to get onboard.”
“You made a decision and I’m running with it.”
“Hm.” Nolan watches me for a couple of seconds longer before he finally heads off toward the trees. “Don’t scare her off,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing among the thick pines, his crunching footsteps fading into the distance.
The barn is like a warm bath compared to the chilly air outside. I haul all the boxed-up decorations out of the back and pile them in the main room—one less job for Margot. Then I make a couple of cocoas and wait for the sound of a car, pacing back and forward to try to get rid of the restless energy zipping through me. After a couple of minutes, I hear the rumble of an engine, the sound of a door slamming, footsteps approaching.
Margot steps into the barn and our eyes meet. She looks fucking incredible in her ruby red sweater and blue jeans, her dark hair tied back in a messy bun. Seeing her is like a shot of adrenaline, shocking my body to life. She’s so damn pretty. Those curves are enough to drive a man crazy, and I feel blood rush downward, my cock swelling as my gaze lingers on her for several beats too long. She breaks eye contact first, looking at the boxes of decorations as she walks toward me.
“Good morning,” she says.
Am I imagining it, or is she blushing?
“Hey.” I swallow hard, trying to get myself under control. It’s wrong for me to be reacting like this—not only is Margot my employee, but she looks about half my age. I just turned forty-five, and she must be a few years into her twenties at most. But dammit, it’s impossible to control the desire bubbling in my veins, turning my brain to mush.
“I hope this is okay,” she says, gesturing down to her clothes. “I forgot to ask what I was supposed to wear.”
“That’s perfect. As long as you’re warm and comfy.”
Margot nods, smiling slightly as I reach over to give her the cocoa. “Thank you. Smells amazing.” She takes a deep sip, warming her hands on the mug. “Should I get started on decorating the barn today? Or is there something else you’d like me to do first?”
“The barn would be great.” I point to the boxes. “Everything you need is in there. Go nuts.”
“Awesome.” She smiles again, and it makes her eyes twinkle like diamonds. This angel is beyond beautiful…she’s fucking radiant. It’s hard to believe she’s really here standing in my barn, her sweet red lips curved upward as she looks at me.
“I’m going to give you a hand,” I tell her, reaching for one of the boxes.
“Are you sure?” Her brow furrows. “You probably have better things to do. I can manage.”
She’s not wrong. I have plenty of other things that need my attention right now, and yesterday, the thought of ‘wasting’ a whole day decorating the barn would have driven me nuts. But right now, I want a chance to get to know Margot, and I won’t get that chance if I’m cutting trees outside while she’s in here by herself.
“I’m sure.”
Margot and I unbox all the decorations, rooting through yards of tinsel, strings of lights, nutcracker dolls, red bows, ribbons, giant candy canes, and a bunch of other festive stuff that has been gathering dust since last December. There are several Christmas tree pots, hundreds of baubles, and an assortment of stars to sit on top of each tree.
“Looks like we have our work cut out,” Margot says, chuckling as she inspects a garland the length of a swimming pool. “Guess I could use the help after all. There’s a lot here.”
“Yeah, my dad was a big fan of decorations. Bought a shit ton of them. He always went kind of overboard at Christmas.”
Margot looks up at me, and there’s a flicker of pity on her face as she says, “Sorry.”
I frown. “What for?”
“I read about your dad passing away when I was researching the farm.” She sets the garland down. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”
The words make my throat tighten. It’s been almost nine months since my dad died, and somehow it’s harder to deal with now than it was when it happened. When he passed, there was so much to do—the funeral, the will, transferring the business, all the mindless admin that comes with death. Now that’s all finished, and there’s nothing to distract me from the fact that my dad is gone forever. Or at least, there was nothing to distract me…until Margot walked in yesterday. For the first time in months, I’m not driving myself crazy with thoughts about how I’m not good enough to continue my dad’s legacy. And damn, it feels good.
“Thank you, Margot,” I tell her finally. “It means a lot.”
She smiles before rifling through the boxes again, grabbing a few decorations at random. I do the same, but decorating is the last thing on my mind. I have so many questions I want to ask this girl; it’s impossible to know where to begin. But I can’t just jump in. I need to start slow.
“So, what made you want to work on a Christmas tree farm?”
“I’m just really into tinsel,” she says, clumsily attempting to untangle a string of lights.
I catch her eye and she grins at me to show she’s joking, but she doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she sets down the lights and busies herself with arranging decorations on a nearby shelf, like she’s trying to avoid the question. There’s something closed-off about Margot. It’s like there are brick walls surrounding her, and she’s careful never to reveal too much. I remember how she left yesterday, practically running out of here like she’d been burned, and it only makes me more determined to find out about her.
“I’m guessing you’re local,” I say, trying again. “You always lived in Cherry Hollow?”
“Yep.” She reaches for a piece of red ribbon, and I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. Instead, she asks, “Have you always lived on the farm?”
“Yeah. My family has owned this land for a long time.”
I don’t want to talk about me; I want to hear about Margot, but before I can ask anything else, she cuts in with another question. “What was it like growing up here?”
I tell her about my childhood: helping Mom and Dad on the farm, running through the cornfields, skating on the lake, and playing hide-and-seek among the Christmas trees. She seems fascinated by everything I have to say, but whenever I ask her something in return, she turns it around, making it about me instead. This girl is a closed book, and I can’t figure out why.
When lunchtime rolls around a few hours later, it’s the end of Margot’s shift, and I still don’t know a damn thing about her. I don’t want to push her. This is just a casual seasonal job, and she could easily walk out and never come back without saying a word. But dammit, I wish I knew more about her. Something. Anything.
“Thank you for helping me,” she says, grabbing her scarf and wrapping it around her neck. “It already looks way better.”
I’ve been so busy staring at Margot that the barn has barely registered, but she’s right. It’s no longer as empty—the shelves are lined with decorations, and there are strings of lights draped here and there. There’s still work to do, but we’re making progress.
“No problem. Good job today.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
I don’t want her to go, but she’s eyeing the clock anxiously like she has somewhere to be, so I reluctantly open the barn door for her.
“See you on Wednesday,” she calls over her shoulder.
Wednesday. Two whole days away. It might as well be two fucking years.
I watch as Margot gets into her car and drives away, leaving me alone in the partially decorated barn. With a sigh, I head into the office and browse the calendar of Margot’s shifts. According to this, she only has twelve more until Christmas. Twelve more shifts until she leaves. It doesn’t leave me much time to…
To what?
Fuck, I don’t know. Realistically, there’s no way a curvy angel like her would want a middle-aged man like me. Even if she had a thousand shifts left at the farm, I wouldn’t stand a chance. But dammit, I have to try. From the second I saw Margot, I knew there was something there. She stirs up emotions I never knew existed, desires that have been dormant for as long as I can remember.
I want this girl.
I want to make her mine.
And I’m not afraid of working hard to get what I want.