Chapter 13
GINGER
Istill feel his lips on mine as we walk toward the barn. With the cold nipping at my face, the memory lingers, warming me from the inside out. Cider and winter are now my favorite tastes.
My gaze slides to him, and my stomach somersaults. He doesn’t seem flustered, but when he glances at me, there’s a warmth in his eyes that both thrills and terrifies me.
Inside the barn, strings of golden lights and greenery hang from rafters, and people mill about with cups of cocoa, checking out all the items available for purchase. We find the checkout counter near the back, where a woman with red cheeks and a Santa hat rings us up.
“Is this your first Frostbloom tree?” she asks, smiling.
I nod. “Yes, but it won’t be the last.”
She hands me a small tag with our number, and promises the tree will be delivered to Jordan’s truck in a few minutes. I tuck the paper inside my pocket. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your holiday season.” She gives us a final smile as we turn away.
“Do you want to look around?” Jordan asks.
Before I can answer, my attention is snagged by the largest tree I’ve ever seen indoors.
“Oh, wow,” I whisper as I walk over to take a closer look.
It’s so tall, the branches nearly brush the barn’s rafters, and every inch glows with soft white light.
But it’s not covered in ornaments or tinsel.
Instead, hundreds—no, make that thousands of small wooden discs hang from its branches.
A wooden sign on a nearby table explains that it’s a Remembrance Tree. A basket is filled with blank discs hanging from golden strings, along with black markers. There’s a note taped to the front of the table that says: Write a message for someone you miss this season and hang it in honor of them.
My throat tightens.
“Do you want to add one?” he asks quietly.
I nod, swallowing hard. My gloves come off, and I dig out the perfect disc. The wood is smooth and cool against my palm. For a moment, I stand frozen, the marker hovering as I gather my thoughts.
For Nan. Thank you for being my constant and loving me like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your love was so magical, I still feel it.
I blink rapidly, willing away the sting in my eyes. When I hang the disc on a lower branch, it sways gently, catching the light. “She’d love this place.”
He steps closer. “I bet she’d like you being here and picking out the tree.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, smiling despite the ache in my chest. “I think she would. I know she’d be glad I was helping Pops.” I put my gloves on as we head for the exit. Outside, the air feels colder than before, stinging my face.
“They should have the tree loaded in the truck by now,” Jordan says.
I nod, pulling my scarf up over the bottom of my face and tucking my gloved hands into my coat pockets.
On the walk back to his truck, it’s silent but not awkward.
I’m lost in my own thoughts, going over everything that happened.
The high point was our moment under the mistletoe—damn, that was something.
I’ve never been so affected by a kiss. I felt it all the way down to my toes, and now there’s no going back to what we were before.
“You’re quiet,” he mentions without looking over.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“How everything can change in one night.”
He glances my way, the corner of his mouth curving. “You think it changed?”
My eyebrows rise on my forehead. “Don’t you?”
He brushes a flake of snow from my cheek with his gloved hand. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I think it did.”
Oh my God.
When we reach the truck, the freshly cut and wrapped tree’s already in the bed, and there’s a layer of snow accumulating on top.
Jordan opens my door and waits until I’m seated before closing me inside.
As he walks around to the driver’s side, I take a deep breath to settle myself down.
I may not know what’s going to happen with us, but for the first time in years, the unknown doesn’t scare me.
For a handful of seconds under the mistletoe, it felt like the start of something incredible.
Jordan climbs into the driver’s side and starts the truck. He shivers and pushes a couple of buttons on the dashboard. Heated seats are a lifesaver. “They should get warm pretty fast.”
“Good. I like my buns toasted,” I joke.
He laughs. “I’m getting old. I like how it makes my back feel better.”
The heater hums as we pull out of the lot, and my cheeks start to tingle as they thaw. For a while, neither of us says anything, which gives me time to process everything that happened. I’m still replaying our kiss in my mind when he clears his throat.
“So, I think we qualify as professional tree pickers now.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Professional?”
“Yeah. We braved the storm, found the perfect tree, and didn’t lose a single digit to frostbite. Sounds professional to me.”
I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure professional tree pickers don’t spend half an hour debating between Blind Date With a Tree and Perfectly Imperfect.”
“That was all you,” he says, shooting me a quick grin. “I’m decisive.”
I blow out a puff of air. “Decisive? I’ve seen you take ten minutes to choose an appetizer.”
“That’s different. Appetizers can make or break the whole dining experience.”
I laugh a little too hard at his reply, and his self-satisfied grin tells me that was his mission all along. I’m grateful he’s keeping things light. After the enormity of us locking lips, I needed to return to the comfort of our usual banter.
“You know what will make this trip complete?” he asks.
“What?”
He turns on the radio and grins when he finds a channel playing Christmas music. “What do you think?” His gaze darts to me, then back to the road.
“I think you’re right.” I tap my foot to the lively beat, and soon we’re both joining in, belting out the lyrics. I’m not even concerned with how horrible my singing voice is. He’s heard it before anyway.
The drive home passes much too quickly, and before I know it, we’re turning onto my street.
“Did we hit a time warp on the way home? It feels like it took half the time the drive there did.”
He smirks. “It’s the same distance each way.”
“I know that, smartass, but it feels like twenty minutes instead of an hour.”
“Probably because you were busy assaulting my ears with your singing.”
I snort out a laugh. “I can’t even argue with that.”
“Actually, I liked it,” he says, pulling into the driveway.
We meet at the back of the truck and wrestle the tree out. Then we slip and slide all the way up the driveway and laugh our way up the stairs. Pops opens the door before we can knock.
“Well, look at you two. I thought you must’ve gone to the North Pole to find a tree.” He runs a hand over his gray hair that’s sticking up as if he’s been dozing in his recliner.
“Hi, Pops. We didn’t go quite that far, although the trip there felt like it took forever.” I wink at Jordan.
“Let me get out of the way,” Pops says, stepping aside so we can haul the tree through the entryway. “Set it up in the same spot as always, by the window.”
The tree’s still bound tight, its branches pressed close. We maneuver it into the stand and then I remove my gloves and crouch down to tighten the screws.
“All right,” Jordan says, rocking the tree slightly to test its stability.
“Now comes the moment of truth.” He yanks off his gloves and pulls a multi-tool from his pocket, using it to slice through the netting.
The branches spring free, shaking some needles onto the wooden floor. The scent of pine wafts around us.
“Voilà! A perfectly imperfect tree,” I announce, clapping.
Pops chuckles. “I like it. It reminds me of the trees your grandmother used to pick. A little lopsided but full of charm.”
A lump fills my throat at her mention. “Yeah. She’d like this one.”
He nods. “She would.”
Jordan helps me turn the stand so the fullest side is front and center. The tree is beautiful, even with its lean.
“Now that the excitement is over, I’m heading to bed,” Pops informs us. We both say goodnight, and he heads down the hallway.
I fill the stand with water and throw the netting in the trash. I can wait until tomorrow to vacuum when there will be even more needles on the floor.
“I should probably hit the road before it ices over,” Jordan says.
I walk to the door with him. “Thanks for taking me. It was fun.”
“It was.”
We step out onto the porch and turn to face each other. “Can I…” he starts, voice low.
I don’t let him finish. I rise onto my toes and kiss him.
The first brush of our lips is gentle, but when he sighs against my mouth, as if he’s been waiting for this moment, everything changes.
His hand finds my jaw, thumb tracing just beneath my ear, the warmth of his skin burning off the chill of the nighttime air.
His other hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
My arms wrap around the back of his neck as I arch into him.
Everything else fades as his lips move with mine, eager and sure, like our desire has been caged for too long.
When we finally part, I’m breathless and my heart’s beating so hard, I think it might push right through my chest. Jordan rests his forehead against mine, his breathing uneven.
“Drive safe,” I whisper.
A soft, crooked smile touches his mouth. “Yeah, I will once the blood flows back to my brain.”
I roll my lips, holding back a laugh.
He hesitates for a moment longer, like he’s not quite ready to leave. When he finally walks toward his truck, I want to call him back and kiss him all over again. But I head inside, lock the door, and lean back against the cold steel.
I’ve officially fallen for Jordan Thorne, and there’s no coming back from this.