Chapter 35
DID YOU JUST NAME US AFTER HOLIDAY FLICKS?
ISLA
But Rowan wants to gloat. About me. “Look at you. Giving me a run for my money in the coaching department,” he says when we arrive at the Evergreen Falls Christmas Tree Farm as the sun is dipping lower in the sky.
“When you’re good, you’re good,” I say, blowing on my red fingernails as we head to the cottage with the welcome sign and hours on the door.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but it turns out you’re quite the coach,” he adds.
“You should accept defeat now, Dad,” Mia says, darting past a blue spruce.
Rowan scoffs. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m just being honest. This is Isla’s home turf. You, of all people, should know about the home ice advantage,” Mia says.
Rowan stares wide-eyed at his daughter. “Where is the family loyalty? Where is the devotion?”
Mia flashes a playful smile. “I’m betting on Isla’s team,” she says, then rushes ahead to the cottage.
“Betting?” I ask as she pauses to admire a tree up ahead in the sparkling packed snow. “Does she take after you or what?” Then I wince, realizing how that sounded. Of course she takes after him. She only has one parent. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put it like that.”
He slows his pace and looks me in the eyes. “It’s okay. I’m glad she takes after me and not Regina.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. But she really does, Rowan.”
“Sometimes I feel like a selfish dick for being grateful I don’t see her mom in her,” he says, his jaw tensing, but then he seems to let the tightness roll off. “But mostly…I don’t. It feels right that I don’t.”
“She’s yours through and through. Even if she likes pears,” I say.
“Troublemaker,” he mutters. But he smiles as he watches Mia gallop off to the cottage to let the tree farm owners know she’s here—such a Mia thing to do.
And I want him to know I see his daughter. “I bet she’s going to let them know she’s here looking for a tree.”
“Yeah, she probably is,” he says, a proud smile on his face.
I set a hand on his sleeve. “I’m glad she has you. Really glad.”
“Me too,” he says, his voice full of a raw sort of emotion—one he clears with a cough as we reach the older couple who run the tree farm.
Mia’s busy asking about prices and the best trees and listening intently to their replies. When she’s done, she turns around, giving a crisp nod. “They have all sorts of trees. We can get a Douglas fir or a blue spruce or…” She taps her chin. “How would I approach this if it were a book?”
“And a book with so many choices,” I say. “There are so many things that go into finding a tree. The color, the smell, the height.”
Her eyes pop. “I get to sniff Christmas trees?”
“The sniff test is key to a good tree.”
“Let’s go smell trees, Isla.” She tugs my hand, and as we head down a row of trees, my heart skips a beat.
I look down at her white-mittened hand in mine, and it does funny things to my chest—makes it all soft and warm and full of a fond feeling I’ve never experienced before.
I swallow, a little uncomfortably, but only because there’s a knot of emotions in my throat. This girl is smart and clever and big-hearted, and she knows what she wants. How could anyone walk away from her?
But is this okay? Holding hands? Will Rowan think I’m trying to take, well, his place?
I steal a glance at him, and he nods as if to say keep going. I wonder if anyone saw us when we arrived. If they think we’re a real little trio now.
I shouldn’t care. But part of me does.
I try to shed that worry and others, let them drop behind me. But as we walk through the trees, I’m hardly thinking about anything else.
Well…that’s not true.
Lately, Christmas tree farms make me think of kisses outside in the snow, breathless moments, Rowan catching up to me, wrapping his arms around me, and tugging me close.
But I shelve all those lusty thoughts as Mia and I sniff trees. Eventually, until we find one she says smells just right. It’s a little spindly and missing a few branches, but the existing ones can be fluffed up.
“I like this tree,” she says.
“Let’s get it then,” Rowan says.
It’s not a transformation. He’s not suddenly Mister Jolly. But he’s not kicking and screaming either.
I count that as another success.
“Do you mind holding my jacket?” Rowan asks as he takes off his navy peacoat.
Do I mind? I insist.
“Not at all.” I smile, cat-like, and I offer my hand for the proffered item.
I enjoy the show as Rowan cuts the tree, carries it, and ties it on top of my car for the second time this season. When he’s done, I can’t look at Mia. I’m having wildly inappropriate thoughts about her father in his T-shirt. But hey, I do have a lumberjack kink.
We leave and drive back to the main road, the lights around my windshield twinkling all the way.
I’ve never been to his house, but I know the way.
I drive up a few hills just outside Evergreen Falls, where the homes are more widely spaced with each turn.
The evergreens are taller here too. Denser.
The air smells clean, like the forest that surrounds us.
On the final road, Rowan directs me to their home at the top of the street. “That’s us.”
“The two Bishops,” Mia says from the back.
I drink in the view as I pull into the driveway and cut the engine next to his car. He told me that they got a ride into town from Tyler earlier today so Mia could enjoy her Christmas car ride with me.
His cabin is warm and welcoming with weathered cedar logs and a wide wraparound porch, atop a stone foundation. A metal bowl sits by the door for Wanda. It’s lovely—charming but with a touch of classy luxury since there’s nothing too rustic about it.
Mia rushes inside first, shouting that Wanda probably has to pee. “I’ll take her.”
As she bounds out of sight, Rowan pats the tree on the roof.
“Sorry this isn’t much of a date for us tonight. But my parents will be here tomorrow. That should help,” he says with a shrug. “The life of a single dad.”
He sounds a little apologetic. I wonder if other women have made him feel that way. “Have others made you feel like you need to be available at all times?”
“Let’s just say it’s not easy making it work. But I don’t blame my schedule or my responsibilities for not dating much.”
It’s a reminder of how he’s been hurt. That while he could blame his lifestyle, he’s been patently honest that his heart is the problem.
It’s closed off. After learning about that fateful Christmas five years ago, it’s hard to argue with the way he’s shut down to love.
But I can’t let myself forget over the next week, as we pretend we’re together.
“I get that. But guess what? I don’t mind. And I’m busy too. Plus, tonight was fun.”
“Yeah?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
“It was. I had a great time.” I wag a finger in warning. “But don’t think that I’m ready to admit we’ve been fake-dating since the first Christmas tree farm.”
“Oh, I know. And I’m going to earn that admission. I told you I’m going to be the best fake-dater ever. Wait till you see what I have planned for tomorrow.”
My heart stutters. I can’t wait. But I also can’t stray too far from our mission.
This is a performance. This is a means for us to safely explore this wild spark between us.
It’s also a chance for me to help. “You were great today at the sledding hill with the whole ‘sunshine’ nickname, even though it caught me off guard at first. I didn’t know you’d told your teammates. But I figured it out quickly.”
“And did you like it?” He sounds hopeful, and it’s sweet.
“I did,” I say. “I never got that sort of affection from JD. Not in public, that is.”
His irises flare. “You should be kissed often. In public and in private. You should have your hand held, your cheek kissed, your hair tucked behind your ears. Any man lucky enough to get even one date with you should let the world know he’s with you.”
Wow. I’m off balance again, but in the best of ways. “Thank you. That’s…one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me.”
“Just to prove my point…” He ropes an arm around my waist, hauls me close, and drops a hot, unexpected kiss to my lips. His fingers find my hair, twisting around some strands. He deepens the kiss, tasting more of me, his tongue skating with mine. My head goes fuzzy. My stomach flips.
And I believe he’d kiss me often and anywhere.
When he breaks it, I’m a little wobbly and a lot caught up in him. He clasps my hip, steadying me. “Like I said…I’m going to be the best at fake-dating.”
Right. The reminder I need. This is fake, even if the kisses are very, very real.
“I guess we’ll see at the end of this,” I say, sticking to our challenge, and to the reminder of the ticking clock.
“We sure will.”
He turns to untie the tree from the roof. I should say goodbye. I’m just the driver after all. Besides, it’s family time now.
But when Rowan nods toward the door, his eyes flickering with hope, my chest fills with hope too.
“I swung by the thrift shop earlier. The one that’s connected with the local animal rescue,” he says. “Picked up some ornaments. Want to…help? I mean, I could use a little social interaction evidently.” His gaze drifts down to his T-shirt with the line from the movie.
“Yes, Grinch,” I say.
“Thanks, Elf.” He stops. “Shit. Did I just name us after Christmas movies?”
I grin, far too pleased. “You sure did.”
He grimaces. “Pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Oh, it happened. It so happened.”
“Did not.”
“Did so. And it’s going in one of my notebooks.”
“Of course it is,” he grumbles as he heads up the steps with the tree.
As I follow him, my heart feels glowy. I’m liking this whole moment far too much.
Inside, Wanda dances at the door, saying hello with a friendly whimper. “Hey, wonder pup,” I say to the little cutie as Rowan carries the tree to the living room.