2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Ezra
It’s been two days, and I can’t get her out of my head. I’m standing in knee-deep snow on a mountain slope, looking for a Christmas tree, and instead, all I can think about is the woman from the coffee shop. I shouldn’t be so fixated on someone I spent less than a minute with. I know that. But hell if it makes a difference to my body and brain, because all I can think about is her sweet smile, flushed cheeks, and sinful curves. I didn’t even get her name, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been calling her “angel” in my head because she reminded me of my grandmother’s angel tree topper. It had the same dark hair and porcelain skin, but wore a green satin dress.
Grandma would have me put the angel on because I was a foot taller and didn’t need to use a ladder to reach the top of her little artificial tree. We’d turn on the Christmas lights, listen to Bing Crosby on her record player, and drink hot cocoa with as many marshmallows as I could stuff in the cup. Those were the best Christmases. She was all I had.
My chest warms at the memory. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had anything close to that. My grandma passed right before I entered the service. The only family I have now are the men I served with, most of whom I haven’t seen in over two years.
For a long time, I didn’t think it mattered. Having a family was just something some people had and others didn’t. It wasn’t until I was at my lowest, broken and alone, that I wished for that connection. Can’t force that shit though. And with my head the way it is, I don’t know if it’s in the cards for me.
An image of my angel from the coffee shop comes back in a rush. She was so damn pretty, looking up at me with those wide blue-green eyes, her pink lips parted. After two years of not feeling anything even close to attraction, the burst of arousal I felt when I saw her shocked me. Suddenly, the light seemed brighter. Sounds were sharper and my vision clearer. Like coming fully awake after lingering in a dream. I want to see her again. See if I experience the same feelings or if I just needed more caffeine that day.
None of that’s going to happen in the middle of the forest while freezing my balls off, that’s for damn sure. I’m out here to get a Christmas tree, not hypothermia. I blow on my gloved hands to warm them and force myself back to my task. There’s a good candidate nearby. I tromp through the snow to examine it. The Douglas fir is full and just the right height. Perfect for my cabin. Maybe I’ll even get an angel for the top.
I kneel and remove my bag, pulling out the saw I brought. Nearby, a woof sounds, followed by an excited yip.
“Cooper!” I whistle. “Leave whatever it is alone and get over here.” It should only take a couple minutes to saw through the tree trunk and—
A white and gray streak slams into me, knocking me on my ass in the snow. Cooper licks my face madly.
Ugh . “Dammit, Coop. Stop that.” I roll the dog off so I can get up, dusting snow off my jeans and jacket. He wags his tail, a goofy grin on his face. I have no idea what kind of dog he is. He’s got the markings and stance of a Husky, patches of curled fur like a poodle, and the thin lines of a Greyhound.
“Menace.” I grouse, giving him a scratch behind the ears.
Coop pushes against my hand and gives me another lick. It’s hard to be mad when he looks at me with such adoration. I found him wandering on the mountain, cold, wet, and a little too thin. About the same way I was when I showed up here.
No one in town claimed him, and he didn’t have tags or a microchip. So I cleaned him up, fed him, and here we are. Two lost souls who found this mountain.
“What do you think? Will this tree work?” I ask him.
He tilts his head like he's trying to translate my words into something he understands.
“I do too. Let's take it home.” I cut the tree down, pack up my gear, and haul it back home with Cooper in tow.
When the cabin is in view, my dog streaks forward, barking as he rounds the front of the house. I follow and spot a faded old Ford truck parked there. My buddy Caleb is crouched, giving Cooper a belly rub while Everett leans against the hood. We spent years in Delta Force together, and they’re like brothers to me.
They look up when I call a greeting.
“Working on your lumberjack skills, Manning?” Everett asks, looking pointedly at the tree I'm carrying. His smile comes easier since he married Lacey, a waitress from the main diner in town.
“A man's gotta have hobbies,” Caleb quips, his blond head bent as he slips something from his pocket and feeds it to Coop.
“If that's beef jerky, he's going home with you,” I tell Caleb. “He had gas for three days the last time you visited.”
“Payback for all the time we spent cooped up in small spaces during missions. Every damn one of you should have come with a government-issued air freshener.”
Everett laughs and I flip them both off. “Since you're here, help me bring the tree in. I found an old stand in the crawl space we can use.”
Caleb's smirk softens. “You went looking for a Christmas tree.”
I shrug, feeling uncomfortable. “Haven’t had one in a long time.”
Everett claps me on the shoulder and lifts the other end of the tree. “I think it’s great, man. Livens the place up.”
Caleb holds the door for us as we walk the Douglas fir inside, sidestepping Cooper, who is trying to help by barking and running ahead to the corner where I placed the rusty green and red stand.
Together, we set the tree in place and give it some water. With luck, it will last another couple of weeks.
“What brings you by?”
“Checking in. Came to see how the cabin is coming,” Caleb replies.
It’s me they’re concerned about, not the cabin. Making the transition to civilian life, to this new, fucked up version of myself, has been difficult. I spent months in physical therapy before I could function. Then I drifted. If it hadn’t been for our old team leader, Gideon Blake, tracking me down, I’d probably be living in a tent somewhere. He gave me this place under the condition that I renovate it. Turns out a decrepit cabin is better than living in my truck. It’s given me a focus that I desperately needed.
“Place looks good. Almost livable.” Everett lifts his chin toward the kitchen that I spent weeks updating. “You might not even starve up here.”
Caleb chuckles. “Which brings us to the real reason we’re here. Harmony says you can pay her back for all the food she sends you by helping with the gala tomorrow. Everett and I have been tasked with set up.”
Hundreds of people crammed into one space for a few hours? “No thanks.”
“Funny how you thought it was a request,” Everett replies.
“It’ll do you good to get out more,” Caleb adds. “Everyone will be there. You can get to know some more people.”
Everyone? An image of the angel from the coffee shop fills my head again. Is there a chance I might see her? Is that something I want? I run my hand through my hair, fingers brushing over the scar hidden there.
Everett reaches over and grabs my wrist. “You’re getting better, man. We can both see it. Give it time.”
“I’ll think about it.” It’s possible I will get better eventually, but I can’t let myself hope for more than I’ve got. It’s enough to have a roof over my head, a dog that adores me, and something to keep my hands busy.
Anything else is wishful thinking and I’m all wished out. Even for a beautiful angel.