Chapter 11 #2
As Asher is paying, the other half of the duo who owns the Christmas tree farm, Mrs. McGuire, appears at my elbow. She’s a petite woman with gray streaks at her temples and deep wrinkle lines in her forehead, probably due to the fact that her eyebrows are almost always a little raised.
“Kat, dear! How lovely to see you home for the holidays.” She sweeps me into a hug. My parents have known the McGuires for years, and she’s known me since I was practically a baby. “I heard through the grapevine that you were in town. How are you doing, sweetie? It’s been such a long time.”
“I’m doing well, Mrs. McGuire. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m sure you are. And I have to say, you look wonderful. Just radiant.” She presses her palms to my cheeks, making my lips purse a little with the force of her enthusiasm. “It’s so good to have you back in town, if only for a little while! Now tell me, have you heard the news about Daniel?”
My stomach drops, even though I should have been expecting this. Of course she knows about Daniel. I’m sure the whole town does. “Um, I… “
“He’s with Maya Lewis now,” she says before I can answer.
“Did you ever meet Maya? She works at the bank. Lovely girl. Anyway, I heard through the grapevine that they’re engaged now.
Can you believe it? I’m sure it’ll be a big, fancy wedding.
Maya’s family has money, you know, and Daniel’s not doing too bad for himself either. ”
I feel my face getting hotter with embarrassment, knowing that Asher can probably hear every word of this conversation.
“That’s… that’s great for them,” I mutter.
“I have to say, I always thought it would be you walking down the aisle with Daniel,” Mrs. McGuire continues, apparently oblivious to my discomfort. “You two were together for so long, and he always seemed so devoted. But I suppose things don’t always work out the way we expect them to, do they?”
I start to reply, trying to figure out how to extract myself from this conversation gracefully, but before I can get a word out, Asher appears at my side. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close against him, nuzzling his face into my neck in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
“Let’s get home and decorate this tree, bright eyes,” he murmurs, his voice just loud enough for Mrs. McGuire to hear while pretending the words are just for me. “I can’t wait to unwrap you underneath it.”
Her eyes go wide, and her mouth actually falls open slightly. Asher looks over at her as if he’s just noticed she’s there, his expression shifting to mild embarrassment.
“Oh, sorry about that,” he says with a sheepish grin that somehow manages to be both charming and slightly wicked. “I’m Asher Vaughn, by the way. Nice to meet you, Mrs…?”
“McGuire,” she murmurs, still staring at him like he’s some kind of exotic species she’s never encountered before. “It’s very nice to meet you too.”
We make our escape after that, climbing into my car while Mrs. McGuire stands there with her jaw slightly slack. As soon as we’re out of earshot, I burst into laughter.
“If not everyone in town knew we were together before, they definitely will now,” I tell him, still giggling. “Mrs. McGuire makes it her business to know everything that happens in Maplewood, and to make sure everyone else knows it too. That little performance will be all over town by dinnertime.”
Asher shrugs, looking pleased with himself. “Good. Isn’t that the point of all this?”
“You’re right, but still.” I grin despite myself. “Thank you for that. Perfect timing, and exactly the right level of… boyfriend vibes to get her attention.”
I try not to think too hard about the way his breath felt against my neck when he whispered in my ear, or how good he smelled when he was that close to me. The warmth of his body pressed against mine, or the casual possessiveness in the way he held me.
“You looked like you needed rescuing,” he says simply.
“I did. Mrs. McGuire means well, but she has zero filter when it comes to personal questions.”
Back at the cabin, Asher insists on handling the heavy lifting while I direct operations. We wrestle the tree through the front door and into the living room, where he helps me get it set up in the metal stand that Sam keeps in her storage closet.
“You don’t have to help with the actual decorating,” I tell him as I start pulling boxes of ornaments out of the closet, along with strings of lights and garland. “I know this probably isn’t your thing, and I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“I’m invested now,” he says, brushing off his hands. “Besides, I haven’t decorated a tree since I moved out of my childhood home.”
There’s something in his voice when he says it, a note of sadness or regret that makes my heart hurt a little. “Was that after your dad left?”
His expression shutters slightly, and he nods. “Yeah. After that, it was just me and my mom, and she kind of lost interest in a lot of the traditions we used to do as a family.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“It was what it was.” He shrugs, but I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I change the subject.
“Well, time for the fun part,” I say, opening the first box of ornaments with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Fair warning, I have very specific ideas about how this should go.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
I start with the lights, methodically working my way around the tree to make sure they’re evenly distributed. Asher helps me keep the cord from getting too tangled, occasionally offering commentary or asking questions about my process.
“Is there a system to this?” he asks as I untangle a particularly stubborn knot in the light string.
“Lights first, always. Then garland if you’re using it, then ornaments from largest to smallest, working from the inside of the branches outward.
” I finally free the lights and start testing them.
Half are dead, of course. “My grandmother taught me that. She says rushing the process ruins the whole thing.”
“Sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.”
“Yeah. She’s the kind of person who makes Christmas feel magical just by caring about all the little details.”
After I get the lights working and distributed to my satisfaction, we move on to the ornaments. Sam’s collection is eclectic, a mix of handmade pieces from her childhood and quirky finds she’s picked up in her travels. I take my time with each one, finding the perfect spot to showcase it.
“You’re very methodical about this,” Asher observes, watching me adjust and readjust an ornament until it’s positioned exactly right.
“I know.” I scrunch up my nose. “I can’t help it! My sister just throws everything on randomly and calls it done. It drives me crazy.”
“Well, your artistic eye is paying off. It looks great.”
I flush. “Thanks.”
We work our way through the remaining ornaments, hanging delicate glass baubles and wooden figures, making sure each one has enough space to catch the light properly. When the last ornament is in place, I step back to admire our handiwork.
“Okay, time for the star,” I announce, pulling out the tree topper from the bottom of the ornament box. “The grand finale.”
I grab the stepladder from the closet and position it next to the tree.
The star is one of those classic five-pointed ones with gold edges that catch the light.
I climb up and stretch toward the top of the tree, trying to get the star positioned just right on the highest branch, but the ladder shifts under me as I reach too far.
My stomach drops as I feel myself losing balance, tilting backward with nothing to grab onto. The ground rushes up toward me, and all I can think is that I’m about to crash into Asher and probably take us both down.
Instead, strong arms wrap around me, catching me mid-fall and pulling me against a solid chest that smells smoky and woodsy, with hints of something spicy that makes my head spin.
“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice rough and close to my ear.
I’m mortified, my face burning with embarrassment. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to almost crush you. I’m too heavy for you to just catch like that—”
“You’re not,” he says firmly, setting me down and turning me around, but keeping his hands on my waist to make sure I’m steady. “Not even close.”
We’re face to face, our chests almost brushing, standing closer than we’ve been since that moment under the mistletoe at my parents’ house. I’m intensely aware of the heat of his muscled body and the way his fingers flex a little against my waist.
“You’ve got tinsel in your hair,” he says, gently tugging a piece of silver strand free.
I laugh, but the sound comes out breathless. “Hazard of tree decorating, I guess.”
His hand lingers in my hair for a moment longer than necessary, and neither of us steps away. The air between us feels charged, electric in a way that makes my pulse race. His fingers trail along my jaw lightly, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
His gaze drops to my lips, then back to my eyes, and I can see something shift in his expression. His fingers move under my chin, tilting my face up slightly, and I find myself leaning into the touch without conscious thought.
My phone pings loudly, the sound it makes to signal an incoming text.
The sound cuts through whatever was building between us, and we spring apart like we’ve been shocked. I fumble for my phone with hands that are definitely shaking, my heart hammering against my ribs.
SAMANTHA: Holy shit, Kat! That’s not a man, that’s a literal god. And he’s staying in the guest house? And people think you’re dating??? I need the COMPLETE story. Everything. Call me as soon as you can!!
“I should…” I gesture weakly toward my phone, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Sam wants to talk. She doesn’t always have service, so I should probably call her back now while she’s at the base camp and has Wi-Fi.”
“Right.” Asher clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
He heads for the door, pausing only to grab his jacket from the back of a chair. As soon as he’s gone, I sink onto the couch, staring at our perfectly decorated Christmas tree and wondering what the hell just almost happened.
And why part of me wishes my phone hadn’t interrupted it.