Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jax
As we walk into the dingy bar, I’m starting to think we aren’t going to spend much more than five minutes here, let alone an hour.
I grab Lauren’s hand as an old man with glassy eyes sitting on a barstool gives Lauren the elevator look. I stare him down, shielding her from him as we approach the bar.
“Excuse me?” I call to a woman who is scrolling on her phone and chewing gum. She looks bored out of her mind, and I can’t blame her. This place is nearly empty.
Her gaze flits up to Lauren and me, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What can I help y’all with?”
“Can you tell us if there’s anything fun to do around here?” I wince. “Besides drink at a bar, of course.”
Unfazed by my accidental insult, she points a finger behind her, saying, “There are a few restaurants about a minute that way.” She thrusts her hand in our direction. “And there’s a Christmas tree farm with some local vendors in the empty lot over there.”
I look at Lauren and find her zipping with energy. She’s clinging to my arm, her beautiful hazel eyes blown wide.
A smile slips onto my face. “Yes, we can go.”
She spins on her heel and marches us out, bouncing with energy.
“I’ve never met anyone who loves Christmas as much as you,” I remark.
“That’s because you came down from Mount Crumpit. Here in Whoville, people like Christmas.”
I toss my head back. “I’m never going to live this down. I don’t hate Christmas, but I don’t get this excited to go to a Christmas tree lot.” I wave my hand up and down at her.
“Well, let me tell you, this time of year is a lot more fun when you get excited about Christmas.”
Before walking down the paved road that’s strung with lights and tinsel overhead, Lauren pauses, taking it all in with awe.
I can’t blame her, the bright colors, the shining lights, the positive energy that smacks you in the face the second you see it, all adds up to a sight that can take your breath away, but it still pales in comparison to the sight of Lauren now and always.
God, I can’t believe I’m here with her right now.
I wrap an arm around her waist, and she sidles up into my side with a shy smile that sets my cheeks ablaze.
What the hell? I’ve never blushed with a woman before.
I’ve always known exactly what to say and what to do, but with Lauren, I can’t calculate every move, nor do I want to.
I like getting to just be me when I’m with her.
“So, Little Miss Whoville, where do we start?”
She takes in the dozen or so booths surrounding us before grabbing my hand and darting toward a stand with hot chocolate. I buy us each a drink, Lauren a peppermint hot chocolate, and me an original.
With her paper cup in one hand and my palm in the other, she drags me from booth to booth. Vendors sell Christmas ornaments, fresh-baked cookies, homemade fir-scented soaps and candles, and even hand-carved wooden Santas. Lauren buys something from nearly every one.
“How are you going to explain all your souvenirs to your parents? Are you going to tell them you bought them from the AAA guy?” I tease.
“Of course not. If it comes up, I’ll say I bought them in Tulsa. I had to support all the local businesses. I’m a business owner too. I get how difficult it is.”
We reach the end of the aisle, and Lauren tugs me into the fenced-in tree lot.
“You understand what it’s like to be passionate about your business and to try to make a name for yourself,” Lauren says. “You’ve taken ownership in the bar. It’s not that different.”
Lauren releases my hand to inspect one of the Christmas trees to our right.
I take advantage of the distraction, muttering, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Lauren turns back to me, scrunching her nose. “You guess so?”
“I don’t know. The bar isn’t exactly what I’d call a passion. It’s more an opportunity I was presented with that I’m trying to take advantage of.”
“What do you mean?” She slowly moves to the next tree.
I scratch the back of my head, wincing. “I care about proving to myself that I’m responsible, and I’d love to run a business I had a role in building, but the bar means little to me.”
“Then why on earth would you try to take ownership of it?”
“I just told you.”
“But you could do that with anything else.” She leads the way to the next aisle.
“I got the job at the bar out of college because Aunt Carol was friends with the owner. Not too many people wanted to give me a job in Roots. It didn’t matter I was a varsity football player, college educated, and stayed out of any trouble that didn’t also involve Charlie.
People still saw me as the troubled boy who came from a broken home. ”
“People don’t see you like that.” Lauren shakes her head, grabbing on to my arm. “Everyone loves you. Yes, there were rumors at the start, but as far as I know, no one knows the truth. Even if they did, they wouldn’t hold it against you. People aren’t like that in our little town.”
She stands in the middle of the row of trees, taking them all in, but I can see her mulling something over. “You could’ve worked for the ranch. My dad would’ve given you a job in a heartbeat.”
“Only because of Charlie.” I toss a hand, brushing her off.
Still, I like imagining a life where that was my path.
This weekend made me realize how much I love the work I do with Lauren on the ranch.
It’s given me more of a purpose than bartending ever has, and not just because I get to see Lauren.
But the bar is my path. I’ve taken an ownership stake; I can’t give all of that up.
“Where else did you look for a job?” Lauren pauses in front of one of the larger trees in the row, admiring it.
“I spoke with Mrs. Harving and Mr. Colt. Neither of them would give me a job.”
“There’s your problem!” She throws up her arms. “Did you ever consider the fact that you asked two of the most stubborn people on planet earth? Not just in Roots, all of the planet. Neither of them likes sharing responsibility of their businesses. That has nothing to do with you. Chin up. You have no idea what people really think of you.”
“This coming from the girl who didn’t understand why I’d like her.”
“That’s because the only person who has ever supposedly loved me broke all his promises.”
We reach the end of the row of trees, and instead of turning into the next aisle, I pause us under the colorful lights strung overhead, taking both her hands.
“Don’t let that asshole ruin things for you.
You have great friends who adore you as you are.
Your family loves you, and I care for you so much. ”
I press my lips gently to hers, stunned by the way such a simple touch can make my knees lock. I’m in trouble.
When we pull away, I lace my fingers in hers again and let her lead us down the next row of spruces. The music drifting softly from a speaker in the corner of the fencing grows louder as we round the corner.
Lauren scrunches her nose. “They did such a good job of creating the perfect Christmas vibe, and then they ruin it by playing non–Christmas music. Such a shame.”
“Wait, this is a good song.” I grin. “Dance with me.”
“Is it John Michael Montgomery? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him after you made me listen to him for a million hours this trip.” She stamps her foot in mock indignation.
“It’s Ryan Kinder.” She flicks a curious gaze at me as I place my hand on her waist. “The song is called ‘Still Believe in Crazy Love.’ It’s about how he’s had his heart broken, but he still believes he’ll find beautiful love someday.”
“Cute.”
As we sway to the music, she leans her cheek against my chest. “Do you still believe in crazy love?” I ask her.
She releases a deep sigh that makes my heart nearly fall out of my chest. She doesn’t. Whatever this is will never go anywhere. I should’ve known.
“I don’t know that I did a few months ago, but I’m starting to see it’s possible to find friendship and love in the same place, and when you do, it creates something amazing.” She blushes, turning away from me to watch two children, a boy and a girl, blaze by.
“I’ve realized it’s possible to find someone who wants to lift you up, even when there’s nothing in it for them other than to see you smile.
” She looks up at me, cautious hope in her eyes.
“I think maybe that’s crazy love, a safe love, a kind and giving love, the kind that doesn’t turn you into someone you’re not but instead helps you find the most authentic version of yourself.
So, yeah, I think I still believe in crazy love, and I have you to thank for that. ”
My heart doesn’t know what to do anymore. It went from feeling trampled to feeling like it’s flying.
“What about you?” She peers up at me. “Do you believe in crazy love?”
“I think I might.”
“What does it look like for you?”
We sway back and forth for a few more moments as I consider it. “I think it’s someone who makes all the little moments feel spectacular. I want to share big, messy, tradition-filled holidays with someone, to cook and dance and laugh with someone who’s mine.”
Our eyes connect, and a smile blooms on her face. An unspoken promise lingers between us, but the song ends, and “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” blares through the speakers.
Lauren pulls away. “Now this is Christmas!”
I chuckle. I like this version of us, the one that gets to be together and show affection out in the open. I don’t want to hide us, but I also want to give Lauren what she wants. I don’t see any way to win.
I wrap an arm around her shoulder and press a kiss to the top of her head, trying not to think about that as I ask, “Should we head home now?”
“Do we have to?”
“A tire can only be flat for so long, Freckles.” The sorrow in her eyes melts me, but I see this as my chance. When we get back to Roots, I’m going to show Lauren I can be someone she’s proud to show off to everyone.
Exiting the Christmas tree lot with my arm still draped over her shoulder, I lean into her ear. “If you promise to go back with me, I’ll promise to give you a date next weekend that will make you forget all about cutting this one short.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”