Chapter 10
clem
Winterberry’s Christmas tree lot is exactly that—a parking lot housing dozens of already cut trees.
I would have imagined a place so into the Christmas holiday would have a cut-your-own farm, but I assumed wrong.
The trees come from tree farms in the surrounding areas, and the profits go toward community endeavors.
Dax isn’t afraid to share his opinions about our tree, but he’s got good taste in trees.
The boys don’t get upset or discouraged when he comments about a wonky branch or a hole on one side.
They’re eager to find the perfect tree, if only perfect by Dax’s standards.
They don’t realize they’re giving him the power, but since he’s not out to steer us wrong, I’m allowing it to happen.
He’s patient with them in choosing the best tree, not rushing them if they take too long at one tree or return to a previous one to make comparisons. It’s endearing to watch him give them the power, yet he’s the one in control.
If I could have even gotten Keith to agree to come with us to pick out a tree, he would have chosen the first one we came upon, no matter what it looked like.
He wouldn’t have let the boys have any say, and he definitely wouldn’t have tolerated all this time for a tree that would only be up for a month at most. The differences between Dax and Keith are startling.
Even as a friend, Dax has stepped up for my kids in more ways than their father ever has.
“I like this one,” Atlas says, sizing up the tree Dax holds up by the top. It’s a little shorter than Dax’s six feet two, which means it’ll be the perfect size for our living room.
Jace agrees with a nod. “Mama, what do you think?”
I pretend to look it over, but the way Dax smiles so big, it’s a winner. “I love it. It’s perfect for our first Winterberry Junction tree.”
Jace leaps up and down. “Yay.”
“If my opinion counts, I’d also say it’s a winner. Great choice, boys. Let’s get it baled up and in my truck so we can get it home and set up.”
“And then we can decorate it.”
I dug out the boxes of decorations last night after the boys went to bed.
I told myself to only check for a tree topper, but did I listen?
Nope. I surveyed the box, crying as I brought out different ornaments from years past, each one dredging up memories.
Some happy, some sad. I definitely shouldn’t have poured myself a glass of wine while I did it because it made me sappy and nostalgic for the life they should have, not the one they’re living.
“You need at least one day to let the branches fall,” Dax explains, much to the chagrin of the boys. Had it come from me, they’d put up a fight, probably yell at me until I dragged them kicking and screaming from the lot to the car, leaving the perfect tree behind.
However, when it comes from Dax, in his patient, explanatory voice, they barely bat an eye.
“I can’t wait to see what it looks like when you’re done.”
“Why don’t you come over tomorrow and help? You can do the high parts Jacey and I can’t reach.”
Dax takes Atlas’s suggestion in stride. “That’s up to your mama. I don’t want to crash your time together.”
While I appreciate him considering my feelings, I hate being put on the spot, especially when both boys want me to agree. It’s not that I don’t want him to help. I’m not sure spending so much time around this man is good for me.
For staying within the lines of pretending I feel nothing but friendship toward him.
Then I remember he’s supposed to come over for dinner for us to go over my ideas for his sweater.
“Sure, we’d love to have you. Do you like pasta and meatballs? I planned that for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Sure do. It’s one of my top favorites.”
“Great. Come when you’re done with work, and I’ll have dinner ready if you let me know what time you’ll be there, and then we’ll decorate the tree.”
“Do you need a topper?”
“Yep. Think ours got left behind in North Carolina.”
“Let’s get this tree in the truck and we’ll head to The Christmas Barn and grab one, Picassa.”
Like the tree weighs nothing and isn’t awkward as hell, he picks it up and follows us to the cashier.
After I pay, he sets it in the truck bed carefully.
All I can do is gape at how he moves. How he’s so precise in his movements.
The way he carries himself. The way his jeans mold to his legs and butt.
The way he calls me “Picassa.” Instead of using the shortened version of my name, he came up with his own, unique to me.
Oh, yeah. Spending more time with him is something I should definitely avoid.
It’s a short drive to the store, but I’m thankful for the reprieve from being in his truck. Because it smells way too much like him. Under the grease and motor oil, there’s something surprisingly soft—like sun-warmed cotton—and the scent is overwhelming.
If you’d asked me how my husband smelled when we first started dating, at best I could tell you, “like a guy.” Why the minute I’m in Dax’s vicinity I notice his personalized scent is beyond me.
Walking into the store, Dax states, “Because it’s your first Christmas in Winterberry Junction, everyone needs a special ornament to commemorate the occasion.
You can pick out whatever you want, and it’s my treat.
Think of it as a welcome gift to our wonderful town.
” He glances at me as he says the last part, knowing I’ll protest his gift.
His sweet gesture almost brings me to tears.
I’m questioning again for the millionth time why he’s being so kind to us.
He sidles up to me when the boys are occupied with different ornaments. As if he can read my mind, he speaks, “Let me do this for them, please. And you, too. If only to have a Winterberry Junction ornament on your tree.”
“Thought you said we could pick whatever we want. Why does it have to be a Winterberry one?”
“Figured you’d put up less of a fight if it was related to the town, but you do you, Clementine. You want a pickle, get a pickle. Want a beach scene? Get that. Want something else? Give in to your heart’s desire and choose your favorite ornament. The only stipulation is I’m paying.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Dax Nicholas.” My brows furrow. “Is Dax your full name?” I’ve wanted to ask since I met him, but it never felt like the right time. I’m not sure now is, but once it’s out there, I’m not taking it back.
“That’s what it says on my birth certificate. Dax Merritt Nicholas.”
“Gotcha.”
“Time’s a wastin’. Go pick out your topper and ornament. I’ve still got to set up the tree before the night is over.”
“Oh, we need a stand, too. Figured you’d have opinions on the best one.” I can’t keep the sass out of the delivery of the comment. Nor can I not exaggerate the sway of my hips when I walk away from him.
Just because I shouldn’t provoke him doesn’t mean I won’t.
It’s almost like I can’t help myself, which is a problem I’m creating for myself and me alone.
I’m not even looking for another relationship, but I wouldn’t mind getting into bed with Dax if the opportunity arose.
I wouldn’t mind it at all.
Though I shouldn’t be thinking about having sex in the middle of the cutest Christmas store.
True to its name, it’s an oversized barn outfitted to accommodate “rows” of holiday items. From ornaments to tree toppers to holiday decor, if you needed, you could outfit your entire house in decorations, both interior and exterior.
I scour every aisle, searching for the best ornament. There’s an entire display of Winterberry Junction ornaments, but nothing catches my eye. I’d rather have something that reminds me of Dax and the way he’s helped me since moving to town, always going above and beyond what I expect he’ll do.
I spot a depiction of Main Street all lit up and decorated with lights.
Even though it’s not specifically my design, it’s the perfect way to memorialize my win and my first Christmas as a Winterberry resident.
I’m so lit up with excitement that the only thing that can eclipse it is finding Jace in Dax’s arms for him see the ornaments better.
What melts my heart further is the smile on Jace’s face, his excitement exuding off.
I have no way of knowing exactly what fills his heart so full of joy, but I have a pretty good guess.
“Mama, look what I found. Isn’t it perfect?” Atlas shoves a video game controller ornament into my hand.
My throat’s clogged, and I clear it several times to get rid of the emotion collecting there. When I feel like I can speak without tearing up, I say, “Yep. That will look great on our tree.”
“I’m gonna find the best spot for it, front and center.”
“Mama. Mama. Come see,” Jace calls out from the end of the aisle. Still comfortable in Dax’s arms, as if this isn’t the first time he’s been there.
Atlas and I walk down the aisle, curious to see what he found. When we’re close enough to see it, he holds it up. It’s a collection of art supplies.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do not cry, I scold myself. My whole “I’m not a crier” is proving to be quite the lie lately.
“I love it. It’s the best for you.”
“I knew you’d love it. It was so high, but Dax helped me get it.”
I can’t look at the man in question. Rude or not, if I give in and glance in his direction, I’m going to lose it. And then I’d have to explain to the boys what happy tears mean. And I’d rather not upset them.
“That was so kind of him. Let me show you the topper I found.” I spin on my heels, moisture threatening the corners of my eyes. I lead the way to a section a few rows over, waiting until everyone joins me to show them the star I picked out.
It’s green with white lights, not too big but not small, the perfect size for our tree. Thankfully, the boys like it, saving me the hassle of having to pick out something else.
“The green is almost the same shade as the accent wall in your living room. Nice choice.”
I’m forced to confront Dax. He’s lowered Jace to the ground, and he and Atlas are looking at more decorations. Dax’s expression has morphed into something almost unreadable, something akin to adoration.
“Thanks. I’m surprised you could see the connection to the wall without it being in front of you. Most people wouldn’t be able to.”
He tilts his head. “Not so hard when it’s the same shade as your eyes, Clementine.”
With his parting words, he walks away.
What the hell did he just say?
How does this man continue to surprise me at every turn?
A better question is how long am I going to let him before I do something about it?
And what exactly will that something be?