Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Harper
“Do we really need to go all the way out here?” I looked across the cab of the truck at Grayson, before turning my attention back to the snow-covered forestry road he’d driven us down.
The windshield wipers swished back and forth in a steady rhythm that kept time with my nerves. “This road doesn’t look safe, Gray.”
Beside me, Grayson’s mouth curved into a stubborn smile I remembered all too well. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a back road, Harper? You’ve been gone too long.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it again. “I don’t remember ever loving the back roads.”
“Oh no?” His eyebrow quirked up, and he shot a glance in my direction. “I remember you enjoying more than one of our back road adventures very much.”
Heat flamed my cheeks. Okay, he wasn’t wrong.
As teenagers, more than once, Grayson had taken me to an out-of-the-way riverbank, or a quiet meadow where we would lie out under the stars and…
“Aren’t there tree lots in town?” I refused to meet his eyes as I changed the subject. “In fact, doesn’t your hardware store sell trees?”
“Sure,” he scoffed. “If you like overpriced, half-dead pines with no meaning.”
“You are talking about your own products.” I laughed. “You know that, right?”
“One, it’s not my store.” He shot me a glance. “And two, it doesn’t matter. They’re not good enough,” he said. “Your grandma hasn’t had a Christmas tree in years and you…well…” He swallowed hard. “Your tree should be perfect. And I know the best spot.”
“Perfect,” I echoed under my breath.
Moments later, he pulled the truck off the rough road, into a snow-covered clearing. “This is the spot.”
The world outside was quiet, blanketed in fresh white powder that glittered in the winter sun. It looked like something out of a postcard. It was gorgeous.
We climbed out, and I tugged my knit toque down low over my ears. Grayson grabbed a saw from the back, and we started our trek through the deep snow.
“What about this one?” I asked after a few minutes of trudging.
“Absolutely not.” Grayson shook his head. “Look at the bare spot.”
I tilted my head, but couldn’t see the spot he referred to. With a shake of my head, I carried on after him to the next stand of trees.
“This one?”
“Harper. You’re kidding, right?”
I wasn’t. The tree looked pretty good to me.
“Willa deserves better than a Charlie Brown tree.” He reached for my mittened hand and pulled me forward. “Let’s keep looking.”
I let him keep hold of my hand as we moved through the trees. We argued good-naturedly, pointing out trees and dismissing them for a variety of reasons that I couldn’t make sense of.
Too bare.
Too crooked.
Too lopsided.
“This one’s cute.”
“Not cute enough.”
“You’re picky.”
“I’m looking for perfect, remember?”
My breath hitched. “I remember.”
Were we still talking about Christmas trees? Somehow, I didn’t think so. It both scared and thrilled me.
I took a step back, my foot catching on a root buried under the snow. I lost my balance, yanked my hand free from his and, with a dramatic whirl of arms and legs, fell backward into the snowdrift.
“Harper!”
I reached for my face, using my mittened hands to brush the wet snow out of my eyes to see Grayson standing over me, concern on his face.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded as he extended his hand to help me up.
I should have thanked him and laughed it off. But I reached for his hand and, instead of letting him pull me up, I tugged. Hard. And pulled him down into the snow with me.
He landed half beside me, half over me, our laughter tangling together in white puffs of breath in the cold air that hung between us.
But just as suddenly as it had happened, the laughter faded, because there was nothing funny about how close we were and how warm his body felt against the sharp contrast of the snow.
His eyes searched mine, and I stopped breathing altogether.
When his lips brushed mine, it was tentative at first, as if he were testing me—us. But then his hand slid behind my head, and I leaned into him, and it was nothing like the staged kisses we’d shared in recent days. This was different.
Raw. Aching and everything I’d forgotten I wanted.
By the time we pulled apart, my pulse was racing.
He smiled and brushed snow from my cheek. “Come on. Let’s go get you that tree.”
I let him help me up this time, not trusting my knees to hold me.
When we finally picked the right one, full and even, with branches strong enough to hold all the heavy ornaments, Grayson handed me the saw.
“You should do the honors.”
“You’re sure?” I raised a brow.
“Of course.” His grin was crooked and endearing. “After all, it’s yours.”
I smiled and crouched beside him, our shoulders brushing as I sawed through the trunk, and he held the tree steady until finally, it toppled into the snow with a soft thud.
“Timber!” Grayson cried out, and we both laughed like kids.
By the time we wrestled it into the truck bed and climbed back into the cab, my hair was damp with melted snow, and my cheeks ached from smiling.
The heater blasted warm air, and the silence stretched between us. Not uncomfortable. But charged with everything we hadn’t said…and the kiss we’d shared replaying in my head.
I reached for the radio and turned to a station playing Christmas carols.
Grayson glanced over at me and laughed when I started singing along to a country version of “Jingle Bells.”
My hand rested on my thigh, fingers twitching.
Before I could stop myself, I let it slide across the seat until it brushed his.
His hand turned, palm up instantly, like he’d been waiting for me. I probably shouldn’t have done it; after all, nothing good could come from blurring the line between real and pretend any more than we already had. Still, I laced my fingers through his.
The words of the song died on my lips, and I turned to stare out the window at the passing trees, my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
I still hadn’t answered Captain Howard’s message. A charter season in the Mediterranean should’ve been an easy yes.
It was everything I’d been working for. To be the head chef on a boat that size was a dream come true. It would open so many doors for my career.
But sitting there, my hand in Grayson’s, nothing about my decision felt easy anymore.
Grayson
Maneuvering the tree up the narrow staircase to Willa and Harper’s apartment was trickier than I’d expected, and more than once I considered that maybe in my quest for the perfect tree, I should have paid closer attention to the size of it compared to the hallway.
After some wrangling, I wrestled it through the doorframe and into their small living room.
“Careful with my walls, Grayson,” Willa called from her chair by the window, a steaming mug of tea balanced in her hands.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, grinning as I finally got the thing upright. I wasn’t going to admit it, but we’d definitely chosen a larger tree than was probably practical for their small apartment.
But the way Willa’s eyes lit up when she saw it in the stand told a different story.
Pine needles scattered across the floor, filling the air with the sharp, clean scent of Christmas.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Willa whispered, clasping her hands to her chest. “Absolutely perfect.”
“It’s not too big?”
“Not at all, Grayson.” Willa looked smaller than I wanted to admit, tucked into her chair with a blanket across her lap. Her eyes were bright as she took in the tree.
Harper held it steady as I crouched to tighten the screws in the stand until it stood straight. Well, as straight as we could manage.
Straightening, I wiped my hands on my jeans, my gaze snagging on the door down the short hall.
Harper’s room.
The same door I’d slipped through more times than I could count when we were teenagers, quiet as I could manage on the squeaky old floorboards, my heart pounding in my chest, certain we’d get caught.
I could almost hear a seventeen-year-old Harper’s laughter, hushed and breathless as she tugged me inside.
I swallowed hard and looked away, but the memories chased me anyway.
“Everything okay?”
I cleared my throat hard and turned to see Harper watching me.
“Fine,” I lied as the memory of our most recent kiss replayed in my mind.
That kiss had been different.
Grown up.
Real in a way that I didn’t dare think about for too long.
She gazed at me a moment longer before turning back to the box of decorations she’d unearthed. I watched her carefully unwrap a set of glass balls one at a time, holding each one up for her grandma to see.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, dragging me back to the moment.
I pulled it out and read the text from Brody.
Family dinner tonight. Don’t be late.
Wasn’t that what we did last night at the restaurant?
I stopped myself from sending the reply.
I knew exactly what kind of response it would get.
Our family was intense about our weekly dinner dates.
Even when Dad passed and years later, Mom moved down South to escape the cold winters, the carryover from our childhood persisted.
Somehow, the tradition we’d found annoying as kids had become something we all looked forward to.
Mostly.
I’d never had a reason strong enough to blow off the weekly date before. But then again, Harper had never come back before now. She’d never been standing in front of me, her eyes shining with happiness that I’d helped put there as she began decorating her Christmas tree.
Bring Harper.
The second text came through as if Brody had read my mind. I hesitated, the idea more tempting than I wanted to admit. But Harper was already elbows-deep in her second box of ornaments, oohing and aahing over each one she unearthed.
I stuffed my phone back in my pocket. “I should probably head out,” I said. “Dinner with the family.”
“Oh.” Harper’s head shot up. “It’s family dinner night? Did you want…should I…”
My heart squeezed at the unasked question. “No,” I said. “You should stay here with your grandma.” I smiled. “That big tree isn’t going to decorate itself.”
Her soft smile hit me in the gut.
“You should stay, Grayson,” Willa said. “I have a pot of soup on. We could use the help. It would be just like old times.”
It was tempting. Very tempting.
“As much as I’d love to,” I said after a moment, “I think I’ll leave the two of you to it. If I don’t show up to dinner, I’ll never hear the end of it. Brody doesn’t seem to care that we see each other almost every day—we need to sit around a table and share food weekly to be a real family.”
“Never take family for granted, Grayson,” Willa chided me immediately. “You never know when they won’t be around.”
“Grandma!” Harper’s face fell, and at once, I felt the burn of guilt.
“You’re right, Willa.” I stooped to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’m grateful every day for them. Even when they make me crazy.”
She patted my cheek and smiled. “That’s better.”
“Enjoy your evening, ladies.”
When I turned, Harper was behind me. “I’ll walk you out.”
I wanted to argue and tell her to stay with her grandma and soak up the moment. But more than that, I was hungry for another minute alone with her.
The back hallway was narrow and dark as we made our way down the stairs to the back door that led out to the alley behind the plaza. I hesitated, my hand on the door handle.
“Thank you for today,” she said softly. “For the tree and…well, for all of it. You were right. Cutting down the tree was special. I really appreciate it.”
Her eyes searched mine in the dim light and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. The memory of her lips on mine in the snow slammed into me. It took everything I had in me not to pull her in close.
“Of course,” I said, my voice rough. “You know I’d do anything for you, Harper.”
The words hung heavy between us, but before she could respond, I cleared my throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun tonight.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, her sweet smile back on her face. “Tomorrow.”
I stepped out into the cold, the sound of the door clicking behind me, and wondered how the hell I was supposed to sit through a family dinner when all I wanted was to be back upstairs with her.