Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EMILY
“I know the snowstorm wasn’t ideal, but the trees look gorgeous like this,” I said, looking around at the snow-covered winter wonderland that was the tree farm. “Like a scene from Narnia. I’m almost expecting Mr. Tumnus to appear at any moment.”
Dana chuckled. “Now you’ve got me craving Turkish delight.”
I grinned. “I’m happy to make an emergency trip into town and get some for you.”
Dana sighed. “We should finish checking for damage first.”
“The snow makes it hard to spot,” I noted, staring at an impressive fir, each branch balancing an inch of snow on top.
“Keep an eye out for branches jutting out at a weird angle or drooping down, or if the tree looks lopsided.” Dana walked over to a tree a little taller than me. “Like this one—see how this branch is pointing down?” She carefully dusted snow from the branch, revealing where it had snapped.
“Oh no! What do you do now?”
Dana examined the tree. “If we trim off the damaged section, it shouldn’t look too bad.” She pulled out hand pruners, cut off the branch just before the break, and then stood back. “It hasn’t affected its shape or left a gaping hole, so we won’t need to mark it down.”
As we continued inspecting the firs, my gaze repeatedly wandered to Dana in her charcoal hiking pants and a black puffer jacket. She scanned each tree with her brow furrowed in an adorably serious expression.
The damage wasn’t as bad as Dana had feared.
A few snapped or bent branches that required markdowns, one tree that had lost three branches and would likely need to be used for wreaths, and a couple that she would pull from sale in the hope that they would bounce back next year.
There was also one tree with a large section of bark missing, the telltale criss-cross pattern visible on its exposed trunk.
The mysterious creature. Dana sighed and marked that one down as well.
“The trap is a little up ahead,” she said, pointing.
We approached the trap cautiously. I narrowed my eyes. Was that something in the corner? Something gray?
“I think there’s an animal in there,” Dana murmured.
We slowed our pace. A gray animal the size of a cat was curled up in the cage.
“I think it’s an opossum,” I whispered.
“Damn it,” Dana muttered. “They don’t eat bark.”
We seemed to be catching every wild animal on the farm except for the one actually causing the damage.
“Yeah. While opossums can be a pain, stealing eggs and getting into animal feed, they’re handy for getting rid of pests and rodents. I’ve encountered plenty but never trapped one before. I don’t suppose you picked up any knowledge of opossums during your stint as a TV vet?” Dana raised an eyebrow.
I shook my head. “Sorry, no luck there. Perhaps we could quietly open the trap while it’s sleeping and run away?”
We stopped a few feet from the cage. The opossum was still sleeping soundly.
“I can do it,” I said. “You’re probably not up to running.”
Dana’s legs appeared to have loosened up a little since this morning, but she was clearly still in pain.
“Thank you. That would be great, if you’re sure it’s okay.”
I handed Dana the notebook and pen I’d been carrying and cautiously approached the cage. I was a foot away from the cage when an ice-cold sensation hit the back of my neck and dripped down my spine.
I jumped, letting out a shriek. I glanced up in time to see a bird fly off a branch.
Dana sprinted forward. “A gray tufted titmouse knocked snow on you. We get a lot of them around here.”
“It’s gone down the back of my coat and is trickling down my spine,” I wailed as quietly as I could, glancing at the thankfully still-sleeping opossum and jiggling my body.
“Here, let me help.” Dana swooped her hand behind my neck, down under the back of my shirt.
The icy sensation reduced significantly as she threw a handful of snow on the ground.
Dana walked back around to face me. “There we go. Hopefully that feels a little better.” She dusted some snow off my shoulders and smiled.
The icy sensation vanished altogether, replaced with a warmth that spread across my chest. Dana literally had my back.
My heart thudded as I gazed into her warm brown eyes.
I could just reach out, pull her in a few inches and taste her again, feel her lips pressed against mine. Dana held my gaze and the air crackled with electricity around us. She would kiss me back—I was confident of that.
A loud hiss sent my head jerking toward the cage. Dana jumped.
The opossum was wide awake and glaring at us.
“Holy crap, look at those teeth!” I exclaimed, taking in four long dagger-like fangs amongst countless smaller sharper teeth. I stepped back, bumping into Dana. She put a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve never heard of anyone being hurt by an opossum before,” Dana said. “I’m pretty sure they are all bark and no bite.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The opossum hissed at us again and I flinched.
“Okay, I think I’m going to just open it before it gets even more pissed off.” I took a step forward.
The opossum collapsed onto the ground then lay there, mouth open, tongue hanging, eyes glazed.
“Oh my god,” I said. “What just happened? Did it have a heart attack?”
Dana tilted her head. “Maybe it’s playing dead?”
“If it is, that is incredible acting. An Oscar-worthy performance.” I peered more closely at the opossum. I couldn’t see its chest or stomach moving at all. Was it breathing? I really hoped I hadn’t killed it.
I crept closer to the cage, slowly bent down, and inched the trap door open. The opossum still didn’t move.
“Are you sure it isn’t actually dead?” I murmured.
“Let’s stand back and give it a minute.”
We walked back about ten feet and stood behind a fir tree, watching the cage.
Nothing.
The opossum slowly lifted its head. It tucked its tongue back in its mouth, sat up, looked around, and then shuffled out of the trap and onto the snowy ground, heading toward the back of the farm.
“What a little character,” I said as it disappeared out of view.
“It was quite cute when it wasn’t hissing and baring its teeth at us.” Dana grinned at me. “Here, you’ve still got some snow on you.” She dusted my hair gently.
Our eyes locked again.
Dana cleared her throat and stepped back. “We should keep going, see if Roz and Ronnie need any help before it gets too dark.”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
---
DANA
As we walked back toward my cabin, the roar of a chainsaw grew louder. We stepped out from a row of firs to find Roz sawing into a tree while Ronnie watched from a safe distance. Two cut firs lay on the ground next to Ronnie.
“It is a bit sad, cutting down these beautiful trees,” Emily said as we watched the fir fall to the ground.
“A very hot actor once pointed out that it wasn’t sad at all, because of all the joy the trees will bring.” Heat rushed to my cheeks. That kind of flirting was not going to help matters.
Emily laughed. “What a wise, hot actor.”
Our gazes locked and my heart leaped.
Roz’s voice brought me back to reality. “Perfect timing. We were just finishing up. Dana, do you mind dragging a tree back? And Emily, if you’re able to hold the chainsaw, Ronnie and I will take another tree each.”
Roz handed Emily the chainsaw, and the rest of us picked up a tree and started dragging them over the snow toward the hay wagon.
Emily and Ronnie walked together in front, laughing.
“So,” Roz said, glancing at me. “You spent Wednesday night together at your place, then Thanksgiving with her parents and now she’s back at your place again. I think it’s pretty clear what’s happening here.”
“Oh yeah?” I braced myself.
“It starts with a U and ends with a Haul.”
“Ha.” I shook my head. “Very funny. We’re just friends.”
“Come on, I saw the way you were looking at her just before.” Roz raised an eyebrow.
Better not to mention Emily’s offer to come to my parents’ place for Christmas—Roz would definitely use that as further evidence. Emily was just being a good friend.
“By the way, if Emily is interested in some paid work this weekend, we could use another cashier.”
I stared at Emily up ahead, chainsaw grasped in her arms. “Thanks. I’ll let her know.”
---
“Wow, I never thought I’d say this after the amount of food I ate yesterday, but I’ve really worked up an appetite,” Emily said as we returned to my cabin. “Do you want some more lasagna?”
I laughed. “Always.”
Before long, we had polished off two delicious servings of lasagna, paired with some greens from the garden.
“As you know, I don’t own a TV,” I said as Emily, in long yellow rubber gloves, handed me the final dish to dry.
How were dishwashing gloves so attractive?
That’s right—they weren’t. It was just Emily.
“So what do you feel like doing tonight? I’ve got board games, puzzles or books—don’t worry, they’re not all about farming. ”
Emily slowly peeled off the gloves. Oh god, was that one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen? What was wrong with me?
I swallowed as she draped them over the side of the kitchen sink and turned to me.
“There’s something strangely attractive about the way you have that dish towel flung over your shoulder.” Emily reached out and trailed her fingers down the material.
I watched her hand glide over the fabric. I’d forgotten I’d even put it there, mesmerized instead by Emily’s glove removal.
“I could say the same thing about the way you just removed your gloves.”
Emily smiled. “Are you finding this whole just-being-friends thing as hard as I am?”
I let out a shaky exhale and nodded. “It’s definitely more challenging than I anticipated. Although, how was I to know you’d look so hot doing the dishes?”
“So hot, eh?” Emily giggled. “You know, maybe we could…”
Her voice faltered, uncertainty flashing in her eyes.
“Maybe we could…?” I repeated, my heart thumping in anticipation.
Emily swallowed. “Maybe we could just make an exception for this weekend too? What happens in the cabin, stays in the cabin…”
I bit my lip. It was very tempting.
Roz’s words echoed in my head. It starts with a U and ends with a Haul.
But it would just be for the weekend.
Emily stood in front of me, studying my face. God, she’s beautiful.
Desire flooded my body. We both wanted this.
Fuck it.
I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around Emily’s waist, and pressed my lips to hers.