Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Max
Narrator: The setting was right, the mood was perfect, and it was a moment that he—
“Hey, pardon me, sorry to interrupt this storytelling of yours, but dude, major props to you for letting me get a kiss in at that moment. Honestly, wasn’t sure where you were going with that whole taco-sausage thing—it was looking really downhill there for a bit—but fuck, a kiss. That was amazing.”
Narrator: I’m glad you appreciated it.
“Great timing. No one likes waiting until the end of a story for a kiss. Think you can squeeze in some more? Her lips are fucking amazing.”
Narrator: I will see what I can do.
“Okay, no pressure or anything. You do you. You’re at the helm. I’m just here, waiting for your command.”
Narrator: And with every compliment you give me, your chances of having a really good time with Betty are increasing . . . drastically.
“Really? Did I happen to mention I was into food play like Cole? Though can we do something different, something that’s not a candy cane? That’s so last year.”
Narrator: We have some time before that. Just . . . hang in there.
“Right, sorry. Getting ahead of myself. Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to say, awesome job.”
Narrator: And once again, this is why you’re my favorite.
“Which one?”
“I don’t know,” Betty cutely says as she scans the wooden ornaments in BKJ’s vendor booth. “They’re all so good.”
“You can take all of them, but that might cost you a pretty penny,” I say.
“Yeah, which I don’t have.” She examines the one of a house with a wreath carved above the front door that she keeps going back to.
“This one is just so intricate and beautiful, and this will sound lame.” She turns to look up at me.
“But buying a house ornament the first year I’m in Kringle for the Christmas season feels symbolic in a way, like I’m accepting this town as my new home. ”
“Yeah, I like that, and not lame at all,” I say as I move in behind her and pluck the ornament I was looking at from the booth. It’s of a Christmas tree in the back of a truck that resembles mine. I swear he carved this ornament just for me. “I think this is the one I will go with.”
“Ooo, I like that one. It’s very . . . you.”
“That’s what I was thinking as well,” I say and then gently take her ornament from her hand.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Buying them.”
“You don’t need to buy my ornament, Atlas.”
“I told you we were going to experience this town, right?” I ask.
“Yes, but how is that experiencing the town?”
“Because in Kringle, you will find that we’re all giving and welcoming, and we want people to find joy in the season, so this is a way for you to see that.” From the curve in her lip, I can see she is barely buying my load of crap, but hey, she doesn’t stop me as I carry the ornaments over to BKJ.
With a jolly smile, he takes them from me and asks, “Having a good night, you two?”
“I’d say so. What do you think, Betty?” I nudge her playfully.
“I am,” she says softly, smiling.
“I’m glad. Nice to see you two enjoying each other.” He rings me up, I pay, and then he hands me a small paper bag with both ornaments. “I thought of you when carving that ornament, Max.”
“I was wondering.”
“Glad it found its way to you.” He offers us a wink. “Taking them to the tree?”
“Yup,” I say. “Got to teach Betty about the town.”
“Couldn’t think of a better person to do that.” He looks at Betty and says, “You’re in good hands.”
“I hope so,” she says as she looks up at me with those soulful eyes.
I smile down at her and say, “You are.” Then I turn to BKJ and say, “Have a good night, man.”
“You too. And merry Christmas.” He offers us a wave with his meaty paw, and I take Betty’s hand again and direct her toward the center of Ornament Park.
“What tree is he talking about?” Betty asks.
You know, I have to admit, she’s extremely cute, especially when she’s not grumbling at me. When she’s in a good mood, her personality shines through, along with her smile . . . and those lips.
Those lips that I want more of.
And thankfully, this town is presenting me another opportunity to indulge. Before I answer her about the tree, we walk through a gate and pause. A confused expression crosses her face right before I pull her in at the waist.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asks, her hand falling to my chest to catch her balance.
Feeling like a lucky motherfucker, I point up, showing her the mistletoe.
“Oh,” she says right before another smile tilts her lips up.
I take that as a go-ahead, and I bring my mouth back down to hers, letting myself relish in her lips again.
Fuck, they’re so goddamn soft. So tentative. So fucking perfect that if I wasn’t afraid that I’d push her too far, I’d spend hours under every goddamn sprig of mistletoe in this town, making out with her, exploring her mouth, and only letting up for air.
But because this is all new, I pull away quickly, reluctantly. This isn’t about me. This is about her, giving her a taste, showing her the kind of man I am.
When her eyes slowly open—again—her gaze finds mine, and she slowly tastes her lips. “That was . . . unexpected.”
I smile down at her. “Just giving you the experience.”
Hand in hand and telling myself not to take her mouth again even though I want so much more, I guide her toward the large town tree, which is propped up and decorated in the middle of Ornament Park.
Colored lights glitter up and down the branches with an oversize, glittery star on the very top that shines from all directions.
And then scattered throughout are ornaments from all over.
“It’s such a beautiful tree.”
“It’s from the farm,” I say proudly. “There’s a section in the back that customers are not allowed to pick from.
We reserve it for the town. Bob Krampus will come out with his wife, Sylvia, and BKJ, and they will handpick the tree together.
It’s been their family tradition ever since BKJ was a little guy, so my dad has told me. ”
“That’s . . . that’s really sweet.”
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite traditions we have on the farm because there is fanfare behind it. People from the town will watch the tree get chopped down, and then it’s a tradition, watching it get raised up in Ornament Park.”
“That’s really sweet. Who hangs the ornaments?” she asks, walking up to the tree. “I’m surprised they don’t have a fence around it.”
“People from all over town hang the ornaments, from all over Colorado. Tradition says you come here, make a wish in front of the tree, and then hang an ornament that is meaningful to you. Then, if the ornament is still there the next morning, your wish will come true.”
“Is that really the case?” she asks. “What if the wish doesn’t come true and the ornament is still there?”
I move in right behind her and lean down to her ear, letting my hand rest on her hip.
“Well, from what I’ve been told, Bob Krampus has been known to say that sometimes it takes many years of hanging the ornament on the tree for those wishes to come true.
So every year, the tree committee will gently pack up the ornaments that were not collected, and when the next year comes and we do a new tree lighting, they hang all the wishes back up on the tree for the people who are still looking for their wish to come true or who are still looking to enjoy that Christmas magic. ”
She presses her hand to her heart. “That’s . . . that’s really sweet. Have you ever hung an ornament on the tree?”
“First time,” I say.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” I say. “I’ve never thought of something that was important enough to wish for. But this year, I have something.” I can see the wheels turning in her head, figuring out what exactly I’m not saying. Without saying much, I’m saying a whole lot.
I take out our ornaments and gently hand her the one she picked out. I fold the bag, stuff it in my pocket, and then move in behind her.
“From what I’ve been told, you’re supposed to hold the ornament in your right hand, look up at the wishing star on the top of the tree, and then make your wish. When you’re done, hang the ornament, and then walk away. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” she says softly.
“Then go for it.”
I look up at the tree, hold the ornament in my right hand, and then in my head, I wish for Evergreen Farm to be safe for many years to come.
Then I hang my ornament on a branch just as Betty does the same.
For a moment, I soak in the feeling of putting my very first ornament on the tree, the meaning behind it, and the impact it will hopefully make on my life.
Together with our wishes now held in the universe, we walk away, and I lead her to the kiosks in Ornament Park. There is one where you can rent blankets, so we head in that direction, and I lay down my credit card as a deposit, grab two extra-large ones, and loop them over my arm.
“This way,” I say, nodding toward a less crowded space in the park.
We head off to the right so we’re closer to where the river is trickling over the almost iced-over rocks, and I lay out the blanket. She takes my hand right before I help her down.
I lie all the way down, and she joins me before I drape the second blanket over us.
“Are you cold?”
“I’m okay for now,” she says.
“Let me know when you get cold, but this is what my parents did after they made a wish on the tree. They lay down and stared at the stars.”
“Did their wish come true?”
“It did,” I say. “They never told me what it was, but they said it fulfilled their life, so I’m taking their advice and staring up at the stars like they did.”
“Do you know anyone else who had wishes come true?”