Chapter 8
HOPPER
I cut myself a generous piece of pumpkin pie for breakfast. Then, I added a turkey leg for good measure. It was going to be a busy day at the farm. There was a chance I’d have no time to stop for lunch.
Black Friday was no joke. Business might not be what it once was, but it would still be our busiest day of the year. Now that Thanksgiving was over, everyone wanted to get their tree up and start fa-la-la’ing their way toward Christmas.
Maggie joined me for a cup of coffee. “Did you get your dad home okay last night?”
I nodded, exhaustion weighing me down. I’d driven him back to town after he’d started falling asleep in the recliner.
Maggie had offered to fix up a room for him, but I didn’t want my dad staying over.
What if he got it into his head to do it more often?
I owed the Grisolds enough without burdening them with my father’s problems, too.
It’d been late, and I couldn’t handle the idea of facing Noel—I’d rather eat nails than see pity in his eyes—so I’d slept in my old bed and driven back over this morning. Not that I should care so much what Maggie and Ed’s son thought of me. I barely knew him anymore.
Even when I did, he’d never been friendly. More like a cornered cat hissing and clawing at everything within his reach. I wasn’t stupid. I’d kept my distance after I got scratched a time or two.
Besides, he belonged in the city, preparing his delicious recipes. Soon enough, he’d be back there.
I ripped a piece of turkey off the leg, suddenly in a shit mood. So, of course, Noel came into the kitchen, looking adorable in a sweater embroidered with dancing Christmas trees.
He was whistling as he poured a mug of coffee.
“Why the hell are you so happy?” I grumbled.
He glanced over. “No reason. Guess I’m happy to be spending some time at home.” He came over and ducked down to kiss Maggie’s cheek. “With my wonderful mother.”
She chuckled, reaching up to pat his arm. “We love having you, hon.”
His eyes met mine, twinkling. “And Hopper loves my food.”
I grunted, still too raw from my father’s appearance last night to engage in Noel’s lighthearted teasing. I took a big bite of pie, finishing off my plate, then stood. “I better hurry. Got a busy day ahead. You okay to open the shop, Maggie?”
Noel straightened. “Actually, I’m going to run the shop for Mom today.”
“You are?” Maggie said, sounding surprised but pleased.
“Yep!”
“You are,” I echoed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s my family’s farm. Seems only right.”
Maggie nodded. “It’s a busy day. It’ll be good to have some extra help, Hopper.”
Noel beamed. “See, Hopper? You need me.”
I scowled, wanting very much to tell him how much I did not need him getting in my way on the busiest day of the year. But hell, Maggie looked pleased as punch, and it wasn’t as if I had much say in the matter. I was an employee, not an owner.
Noel had been away for years, but he had more say about what happened at the farm than I did.
I carried my plate to the sink. “Let’s get on with it, then. We’ve got a lot to do.”
Noel followed me outside and across the yard, tugging a beanie over his messy bed head. Damn, he was cute.
Cinnamon came out with us, eager to romp in the little bit of snow that clung to the ground. We hadn’t had a big snowstorm yet. Might not, with the way the winters had gotten milder these past couple of years. Too bad. The farm looked gorgeous when it was blanketed in a fresh new layer.
Today, the ground was more of a muddy slush.
“Where’s the arbor for the entrance?” Noel asked as he followed me to a stack of cut trees I’d piled by the side of the old barn we’d converted into a store.
“Gone.” I grabbed the rope binding the limbs of a Douglas fir and tugged it upright. “Grab me the shears from inside the store.”
“What do you mean, gone?” Noel went to the big wooden door and waggled the padlock on it. “This is locked.”
I leaned the tree against the barn and unhooked the carabiner holding my keys from my belt loop. I tossed them toward him.
They dropped into the snow at his feet.
Noel glared at me.
“What? You were supposed to catch them.”
“Fucking jocks,” he muttered under his breath as he snatched up the keys and fit the smallest one into the padlock. “Why is the arbor gone?”
“Well, long story short, someone placed it a little too close to the bonfire one year.”
Noel whipped his head toward me, eyes wide. “You didn’t.”
“No,” I said slowly. “I didn’t.”
“Damn it.” He shook his head. “I should have realized they were getting too old for this.”
“It’s been a while since you visited,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Time has a way of getting away from us.”
“That’s a nice way to put it.” He turned away to pull open the heavy barn door. “But I know I got too caught up in my career. I worked such long hours, and there was never enough time—” He stopped short. “I’m not making excuses. I should have done better.”
“I know a little something about long hours,” I said, wanting to toss him a bone.
He smiled. “Yeah. Dawn to dusk. Try dawn to midnight.”
My eyes widened, and he shrugged. “It’s incredibly competitive. You have to work your way up, fighting to impress the head chef, and then when you get your own restaurant to run…” He stepped into the barn to fetch the shears and handed them to me.
“It’s not just dinner service, you know?” he continued. “It’s menu planning, creating new recipes, food orders, staff management.” He smiled ruefully. “I lived and breathed it. And sometimes I really loved it.”
I cut the twine binding the tree, letting its limbs spread. “Just sometimes?”
“Sometimes I also hated it.” He chuckled. “Have you ever been in a toxic relationship?”
“Back in high school, sure. Weren’t they all?”
Noel smiled grimly. “I wouldn’t know, but…yeah, that’s what my career is like. The most intoxicating lover that you know is bad for your mental health, but you just can’t stay away.”
I frowned. “Sounds awful.”
“Yeah, but the highs are so very high,” he said suggestively with a wiggle of his brows.
That was a bedroom voice if I’d ever heard one. And damn, toxic or not, I’d love hearing more of it. Maybe while we were both naked and toasty under the quilt on Noel’s bed.
I focused on arranging the tree display, cutting twine and spreading out limbs, so that folks would hopefully buy these first. It saved a lot more time than traipsing through the farm, though we offered that service, too.
“The arbor was such a nice accent,” Noel said wistfully as he helped me arrange trees, fetching stands to prop them up and shifting hay bales around to allow for seating near the store. “Why didn’t they replace it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess they had other worries.”
“Like?”
“Like running the day-to-day,” I said. “There’s a lot more to tree farming than stringing up some lights and—”
“That’s what’s missing,” Noel exclaimed, craning his head to look up. “There used to be lights strung from the barn roof to that first row of trees over there. It was the starting point for the illuminated trail.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that seriously gone, too?”
“Ice storm took down the hanging lights a couple of years ago. I offered to put them back up, but Ed said he wanted to do it. He was just never quite up to it.”
“Well, he’s not doing that,” Noel said decisively. “We’ll have to take care of it.”
“Noel, I’m sure the lights are a tangled mess by now, and we’ve got other things to do. It’s Black Friday.”
“Then we’ll do it on a slower day,” he said. “Those lights drew people here at night for s’mores and hayrack rides through the trees. Santa used to come out here.”
I sighed. “Things have changed.”
His eyes looked stormy as he gazed around the farm, seeing it as it was now, rather than what he remembered from childhood.
It wasn’t like it was bad.
It was a beautiful farm with evergreens as far as the eye could see. There was a firepit with chairs positioned around it for s’more-making and a few picnic tables set up for families to gather with cups of hot chocolate.
I could remember coming over here as a kid with my parents, delighted by the lights and decor, everything beautiful and glowing and warm.
I’d always attributed the brightness of those memories to my mother’s hand in mine. Her life, so vibrant and strong back then.
Maybe the farm had dimmed. Maybe we didn’t light the place up in a blaze of Christmas cheer or hold as many holiday-themed events as when the Grisolds were younger, but we had a gorgeous selection of Douglas firs, Scotch pines, and Colorado blue spruce.
The barn was still full of crafts and canned goods that Maggie made and sold on consignment for other crafters.
We had a lot to offer—even if we were a bit less shiny these days.
“You’re right,” Noel said, surprising me. Since when did the guy ever agree with me? “Things have changed. I’m here now. And I’m going to whip this place into shape.”
Heaven help me. I took in the manic glow in his eyes and wondered if I’d survive Noel’s good intentions.
And yes, I also wondered what it would be like to have all that focus and determination turned on me.
I was a horny, desperate man, and the universe was torturing me.