Chapter 12
Breathing in the crisp morning air made Graham feel like a new man as he exited his rental car with Coco.
She took stock of the abundance of trussed-up evergreen trees just ahead. “Christmas tree shopping, Graham? Someone sure found their holiday spirit.” She shot him a wry glance. “Your date really go that well, huh?”
He stifled a grumble. “Very funny, Coco. First of all, it was not a date. And second, what we’re doing now is strictly business.”
“What does picking out a Christmas tree have to do with—”
“If you and I intend to pull this masquerade off, then we’ve got to make it convincing. And if we’re going to be convincing, then we’ve got to make ourselves look like the most happy, cheesy, and heterosexual couple to ever shop a Gap store.”
The remark drew a gasp of offense. “Graham, you know I wouldn’t be caught dead at a—”
“Figure of speech, Coco.”
The response seemed to placate her. “Well, I suppose I should be happy, you finally getting festive and all, even if it is just for show.”
“Now you’re catching on.” With that, he led the way to Hansen’s Christmas Tree Farm up ahead.
What they found awaiting them, though, was Graham’s own personal version of hell: a quaint, festive, and full-scale German Christmas market selling not only fresh-cut Christmas trees, but also homemade sweets, handcrafted holiday trinkets, and more.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” He pulled himself together. After last night, he had to keep his head in the game. What had he been thinking, slapping ham to fantasies about his hometown crush? His hometown male crush. If he didn’t get his act together, he could unravel everything.
Surely, he didn’t actually feel an attraction toward Brent. It was just that, with such limited options out here in Podunksville, of course he’d gravitate toward the first halfway-decent-looking guy. Simply put, he wasn’t thinking straight.
Literally.
The stakes were too high, though, to get distracted by romance. Especially a romance that was all in his head.
Without further ado, the pair began their tour. Entering the market, they passed underneath a wooden, Alpine-style archway, trimmed to perfection with ribbon, ornaments, and of course, a full strand of garland.
Flanking the entrance was, to no surprise, an ample assortment of the most lush, full evergreen trees from the farm, freshly cut for the season and ready to be transformed into festive Christmas masterpieces.
A smile spread between Coco’s cheeks as she took in the scent of crisp, sweet pine.
Graham merely wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Ahead, a winding avenue lined with wooden, old-world-style booths welcomed passersby on the hunt for their next Christmas treasure.
“You know,” said Coco, “there may not be a Bloomingdale’s, but this isn’t half-bad as far as shopping goes.” She stopped at a vendor selling glittery, handmade ornaments. “I mean, how can you not like Christmas when you’re someplace like this?”
“I guess I’m just that talented,” Graham replied with a snort.
She rolled her eyes at her hopeless handler as she purchased an ornament from the vendor.
From there, the pair ambled along down the path, swaths of hanging garland criss-crossing overhead.
“Let me take your hand, Coco.”
Her forehead creased in confusion. “Afraid I’m going to wander off?”
“Well, now that you mention it…” He shook his head in spite of himself. “But no. If we’re going to convince folks we’re a couple, then we need to sell it. Your hand, if you please.” He laced their fingers together.
A startled gasp escaped Coco’s lips. “Graham! Your hands are freezing!” She looked at his naked fist holding hers. “What happened to those mittens from your mother?”
The question drew a scoff. “Those abominations, you mean?” He shrugged, nonchalant. “I think I forgot them at the bar last night.”
A knowing grin spread on Coco’s face. “Distracted, were we?”
He shot her an eye roll. “Don’t start with me, Coco.”
His appeal, however, was in vain. “If you ask me,” Coco proceeded, well aware that pigs would fly before such a notion might ever occur to her companion, “if there’s anyone you should be here holding hands with, it’s Mr. Holiday Heartthrob.”
Graham just responded with a groan.
“Oh, come on, Graham. Won’t you just admit that somewhere deep down, you enjoyed your date with Brent last night?”
Graham felt his blood pressure rise. Stepping in front of her, he stopped them in their tracks. “For the last time, Coco, last night was not a date. My feelings toward Brent are strictly platonic.”
“Someone mention me?”
Graham did a double take at the voice entering the conversation. Spinning around, he laid eyes on none other than…
“Brent!” He could feel his cheeks flash crimson instantly. “What are you doing here?”
“Selling hot cocoa, of course.” He gestured to a makeshift hot cocoa bar set up amongst the other vendors.
“Of course,” Graham repeated, stifling a scoff.
“Would you like some? On the house.”
At that, Coco lit up like a Christmas star. “Would we ever!”
“No, thanks,” Graham declined.
“Come on, Graham,” Coco prodded. “A little hot cocoa is just what you need to warm up.”
It was then that Brent caught sight of Graham’s fingers nearing frostbite. A look of concern seized his face. “Graham, your hands!” He took them in his own to warm them.
It did the trick instantly. No sooner had their skin made contact than Graham practically felt himself begin to melt.
The display was not lost on Coco.
“Say, that reminds me,” Brent went on, still warming Graham’s hands. “Did you know you left your mittens at the bar last night?”
Graham feigned surprise. “So that’s where they went!” He shrugged as if at a loss. “Guess I must have been distracted or something.”
Coco shot him an are-you-kidding-me glare.
Neither of the men, however, seemed to notice.
“No worries, man. Sounded like that call you had to take was important.”
This caught Coco’s attention. “Call?”
“Yes,” replied Graham, temporarily forgetting their mixed company.
“Thanks to you, as a matter of fact.” He stopped himself short, suddenly realizing he’d just come dangerously close to giving themselves away.
He scrambled to concoct an explanation. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a ‘Santa’s mailbox’ in the background.
“You, uh…forgot to pause the mail while we’re gone. ”
Looks of bewilderment clouded his companions’ faces.
“Oh,” replied Brent, “well, that doesn’t sound all that—”
“Au contraire,” Graham improvised in an attempt to cover his gaffe. “We narrowly avoided chaos!”
The look on Brent’s face, though, suggested he felt differently.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you got it sorted out.
” He turned his attention to Coco. “So, how about that cocoa, Coco?” He turned to address Graham again.
“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, mister.
I went back to the bar when I realized you’d forgotten your mittens.
They’re ready and waiting over at the cocoa station. ”
Graham fought to suppress a groan. “Yippee.”
With that, the trio set off for Brent’s cocoa booth.
* * *
The aroma of chocolate enveloped them as a rich stream of hot cocoa poured from the tap at Brent’s booth.
“That’s one hot cocoa, coming right up.” Brent placed the cup of liquid comfort into Coco’s hands before shifting his glance to Graham. “You sure you’re not thirsty?”
“Oh, he’s thirsty, all right,” Coco chimed as she blew at her steaming cup.
Graham shot her a warning glare. “I’m plenty satiated as is, thank you.”
Brent shrugged, accepting. “As you wish.” He poured himself a cup and raised a toast with Coco. “To old friends”—he eyed Graham—“to new friends”—eyeing Coco—“and to the best Christmas season that Mistletoe Grove has ever seen.” He tapped his cup to Coco’s and they both took hearty swigs.
A look of revelation lit up Coco’s face then like she’d just found religion. “Brent! This is…this is…”
“Pretty good, huh?” A wry smirk curled on his lips.
“It’s unreal!” Her words came out in a gasp. Immediately, she raised the cup back to her lips and guzzled the rest of it down. “Graham, you’ve got to try this.”
He responded with an eye roll. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on the Cavity-Cola.”
“Your loss,” Coco retorted as she handed her cup back to Brent for a refill.
He smiled at Graham as he poured Coco’s second round. “I’ll do my best not to hold it against you. But don’t worry, I’ve got what you’re after, too.”
For a split second, Graham almost could have sworn he’d seen Brent toss him a wink.
What Brent actually tossed him, though, was his pair of mittens.
“Gee, thanks,” he retorted, reluctantly putting them on.
“Don’t mention it,” Brent replied. “After all, what are friends for, right?”
Right.
The exchange was interrupted by the slurping sounds of Coco inhaling her next cup. “This hot cocoa is amazing, Brent! You have got to tell me what your secret is.”
Brent touched a finger to his nose. “Sorry, but a magician never reveals his tricks.”
She downed another gulp. “Well, whatever you’re doing, you ought to bottle it. This stuff is dangerous. I can only imagine if the studio saw me drinking all these extra cal—” She zipped her lips tight, her face overcome with panic that she’d just let the cat out of the bag.
Brent released a good-natured chuckle. “Don’t worry, Coco. The secret to my cocoa may still be locked up, but your secret, my dear, is out.”