Chapter 5
I couldn’t suppress the groan as I squeezed myself into the front seat of Morgan’s car. Even though it was usually a tight fit, it was worse with how full I was. Considering my knees hit the dashboard, it put uncomfortable pressure on my stomach. If I’d planned properly, I wouldn’t have worn jeans. Would it be wrong to unbutton them? Probably.
Morgan, for his part, did his best to hide his mirth. He seemed extremely focused on the process of turning on his car, which was a feat since all he had to do was push a button. When he spoke though, the amusement was clear in his tone. “Regretting your life choices, eh?”
I shook my head in response, not entirely sure if it was safe to open my mouth. I didn’t regret it, and I would be fine soon, but at the moment, it felt like the contents of my stomach wanted to crawl back up my throat.
“I gotta be honest,” Morgan said as he fiddled with the heat settings. It was pretty cold today, but I knew it wouldn’t take long for his tiny car to heat up. “I didn’t think you were gonna manage it. Those last few bites looked like a real challenge.”
“See the hill, take the hill,” I muttered, breathing carefully. Really, I just needed my stomach to start digesting. As soon as that happened, I’d be good.
“Is that a Marine motto or something?” Morgan cocked his head, holding his hands in front of the vents. It was only blowing lukewarm air, but considering how red they looked, it probably felt good. He needed some sort of lotion for his chapped skin. And more importantly, gloves.
“Sort of.” I shifted positions and that helped slightly. It was even better when I found the lever on the side of the seat and reclined the back a bit. “Not officially.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was Semper Fi?”
“Semper Fidelis is the official motto, yes.” I stifled a belch, and that made me feel better. “Also ‘Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.’”
Morgan let out a laugh and buckled his belt. “That one I can identify with. It feels like some days, that’s all I do in my job.” He turned a wide grin on me and waggled his eyebrows. “Hey, I could totally be a Marine!”
I had to laugh. He was too sweet to join the Corps. He’d have gotten eaten alive. Well, maybe. I knew plenty of people who seemed ill suited to the Corps but by the time they were done with boot, they were Marines through and through. Still, the military wasn’t for everybody, and he just didn’t seem the type who would thrive there.
“Do you mind if we take a quick detour before I drop you back at the Lantern?” Morgan asked before I could comment on his previous statement, but he didn’t appear to require it, with how he was grinning. Like he was pleased with himself for making the comparison.
“It’s fine. Where we going?”
“Candy Cane Lane.” Morgan put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot, then headed southwest out of the parking lot instead of northeast.
I waited for him to explain. He did not. I squinted at the side of his head. “What?”
He cackled, clearly enjoying himself. I didn’t know if it was my discomfort, the shock value of dropping the statement, or something else altogether. And it didn’t really matter. Happy Morgan was cute Morgan, which was a pleasure to witness. I really liked his joy.
“West End, as it’s known the rest of the year. You know the cul-de-sac, on the edge of the neighborhood?” He glanced at me, making sure I was following, and I nodded. The southwest corner of town was a grid of streets and homes, laid out neatly. It wasn’t the only place there was houses, but it was where at least half the population lived. “The second year of the Holiday Festival, we included a walking tour of decorated houses. At night, you know, with hot beverage stations strategically placed on the route. Well, the residents of West End decided to band together, make Candy Cane Lane, and decorate thematically.
“It’s grown every year since. So much so that the biggest hot beverage station, manned by Costa’s, is on the green there, and the town paid for a Candy Cane Lane sign. The Wentworths, the first house there, even invested in one of those projection talking tree things. You know what I mean? Where you can program it to put on a whole scene? The tree, named Bruce the Spruce, gives this narration they wrote about how Candy Cane Lane came to be. It’s really amazing. And everybody loves it. I just want to check in and see how it’s going.”
“Sounds…. involved. And expensive.”
“It is.” Morgan sounded thrilled about that. “But hey, the town helps subsidize the electric bill for those residents. And there’s also a donation box for the Wayfair Equine Sanctuary that does fantastic too.”
I snorted. “I’d never have thought old man Emery would have an animal sanctuary. Hell, I’m surprised you got him to open to the public let alone host a Winter Ball.”
Morgan looked at me askance. “I’d hardly call Harris old. He’s barely older than me.”
“Harris is running things now? Well that explains it.” Harris Emery had been a year ahead of me in school, so he had to be only a year or two older. “His father, Roger, isn’t… the easiest of men.”
Morgan made a thoughtful noise. “I don’t know what happened there, honestly. Which is saying something, because in this town, gossip spreads like wildfire. All I know is that, right after I moved here, Harris bought out his dad, and Mr. Emery left to live somewhere south.”
A part of me was curious enough to wonder what happened, but I didn’t actually care. All I knew was that Harris, and this town, was better off with Roger Emery out of the picture. Harris’s mom passed when he was little, and there weren’t any other siblings. I hoped he wasn’t running the ranch without help. We hadn’t been close growing up—I hadn’t been close to anyone—but we’d always been friendly.
“Oh it’s looking so good,” Morgan exclaimed, bringing me out of my musings. I glanced up and holy shit. Even in daylight with the lights off, I could see exactly how much was going on. All eight houses were covered in strings of lights. There were lawn decorations that spilled from one yard to the next, telling a story of some sort. I was sure Bruce the Spruce would explain it, because to me, I didn’t quite understand. The elves had clearly had some sort of…explosion? The reindeer were tangled, the sleigh was missing and presents—lighted decorations—were spilled all over.
Morgan parked near the second house, twisting in his seat as he followed the scene around the cul-de-sac. I had to ask, “What exactly is going on here?”
“Oh I have no idea,” he said happily. “It’s a new story every year. Ryan Dorsey, he teaches middle school English, gets all the kids together every year and together, they write the story. Well, the kids, I think there are about ten of them from all the families, give him ideas and Ryan wrangles it into a story. Then Henry Wentworth records it and sets up Bruce the Spruce. Bruce has a very deep, gruff voice. Always sounds very put out that he’s having to tell the story. It’s so great.”
“So the sleigh is supposed to be missing?”
“I dunno. Maybe!” His joy was infectious, and I found myself smiling, even though the chaos around me gave me hives. Perhaps it wasn’t finished yet? Morgan got out of the car but then ducked his head back inside. “I’m just gonna run over and talk to Heidi really quickly. She’s a stay-at-home mom, I can see her car in the driveway, and she’ll be able to tell me if there’s anything they need. I’ll be quick.”
The last was said as a promise, but I waved it off. “Take your time.”
“Thank you!”
Morgan hustled across the street to one of the houses on the other side. He wobbled on a spot of ice and I reached for the door handle, but he easily righted himself. I bent some more so I could watch him better, making sure he made it to the house in question all right. He bounded up the steps of the blue house, waved at the doorbell, and a moment later a sweater clad woman with a toddler on her hip opened the door.
The conversation was quick and animated, with the toddler getting to try on Morgan’s hat, and the woman, who I guessed was Heidi, hugged Morgan when it was done. He practically skipped back to the car and I didn’t breathe easily until he was once again seated.
And holding his hands to the heater.
“Seriously, get some gloves.”
Morgan just chuckled. “The sleigh, is in fact, supposed to be missing. Apparently the trolls took it when they infiltrated the elf workshop. The trolls have caused a whole lot of chaos this year. But don’t worry. As Bruce tells it, that’s why Candy Cane Lane was founded. To be a diversion for the trolls so Santa can get shit done at the North Pole.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Bruce is going to say ‘shit’?”
“Probably not,” Morgan said through his laughter. Morgan put the car in gear and drove slowly around the cul-de-sac. He paused halfway, and while I was busy taking in the chaos that was broken candy cane, cookies, and carrots—again, all made up of lights—he was peering out the other side. When I shifted my gaze, I saw the gazebo-like structure that was presumably the Costa’s hot beverage stand. After a minute or so, he nodded and drove on.
We drove in silence for a few minutes. When we were almost to the pub, Morgan shifted in his seat. I glanced at him, but he was focusing very intently on the road in front of us. I was just trying to decide if I should poke him, when he spoke.
“Look. I, uh, I just want to say thanks. You’ve, um, you’ve made the last few days so much easier for me. And I…well, I’ve liked spending time with you.”
Yep, he was definitely blushing with that. I couldn’t imagine why. I covered his hand where it rested on the gear shift and gave it a quick squeeze, then clasped my hands in my lap.
“You’re welcome. And like I said, I’m happy to help. You’ve got me for as long as I’m here.”
His smile dimmed a little. “Right. For as long as you’re here.”
Which is what I just said. What was he repeating it? “Morgan?”
He shook his head, then fluttered a hand. “I’m just really grateful. Anyway, you’re still on for the Market set up tomorrow, right?”
I hesitated a second, but only because I was trying to decide if I should push or go with the subject change. I quickly realized that I didn’t know him well enough to push, and it would be rude to do so. Instead, I rolled with it. “Yep. 1000 hours. I’ll be there.”
“Great!” He flashed me a grin that was much more like the ones I’d come to know. “The rental company should be there about the same time. They’ll set up the tents but then we’ll have to get the tables, lights, and decorations taken care of.”
“More decorations,” I groaned, dramatically falling against the back of the seat. Fortunately, Morgan picked up on the joke and started laughing. Which is what I wanted. I wanted him to be his regular, joyful self. “You know, with the way you’re decorating the whole town, I bet your house is especially extra.”
“Gah! My house.” He was still chuckling. “If I had the time, it would be. But I haven’t even gotten around to decorating yet. It’s a travesty, I tell you. I got as far as getting the bins out of storage and that’s it. Nary a garland nor a hint of tinsel to be seen.”
I frowned. That didn’t seem right. With how passionate Morgan was about decorating, it clearly wasn’t just his job that had him putting his heart and soul into every aspect of the Holiday Festival. Anyone observing him for ten minutes would be able to tell he loved the season and all its trappings. The fact that his own house wasn’t decorated, and it was almost mid-month, was wrong.
“Need help?”
“Oh, gosh. Don’t worry about that.” Morgan pulled in behind the pub and stopped near the back door, not bothering to park in a space. “You’ve done so much already. I’ll get to it before Christmas Day. Probably.”
“Hey.” I waited until he looked at me before continuing. “I want to help. You deserve to have your own Christmas stuff too. Let me help you.”
“Barrett, that’s really kind of you. But I—”
“Just tell me when.”
He stared at me for a long minute, those blue eyes wide. I let him look, hoping he’d see the sincerity on my face. Eventually, he nodded, and a tentative smile tiled the corners of his lush mouth up.
“Okay,” he said, softly. “I’d appreciate it. I’m busy all weekend with setting up and the first day of the Market. There’s always things that need ironing out. But tomorrow night? After everything is set up. But it’s Friday night, and you probably have plans so if you—”
“Yeah. I have plans. To decorate your house. All right?”
There was a beat. Then another. And finally he gave me that full wattage smile I loved to see. “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me.” In fact, I wished he’d stop. It made me wonder the last time anyone had done something nice for him, and when I thought about that, it made me ragey at the thought that people didn’t do things for him. He deserved it. I popped open my door and unfolded myself. “See you in the morning?”
“Yep. Uh huh. See you. Oh! Don’t forget your t-shirt!” He cackled at the reminder that I’d eaten far too much food and held it out. I snatched it from his hand giving him a mock scowled that had him laughing harder. I shut my door in his face but all he did was wave. I stepped back and he pulled out of the lot. I watched until his car disappeared. Only then did I head inside.
Morgan Hawley was clearly a very capable man. He could take care of himself. So I had no idea why I had this undeniable urge to be the one to take care of him. Besides, even though the desire was strong, it was one I was going to have to ignore. Come January, I wouldn’t be here anymore.