Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Finley
Alex still won’t tell me where we’re going, but from the way he made sure I was bundled up with a sweater, scarf, hat, and gloves, plus a pair of Mallory’s insulated snow boots that thankfully fit, I know it has to be outside.
“Are we going sledding?” I ask as we drive out of town in the Wagoneer.
“Nope.” He turns and gives me a quick look. “Do you want to go sledding?”
“If there’s time.” But after the last twenty-four hours, I wouldn’t put it past him to do a U-turn and find a sledding hill, so I add, “But it’s lower on the priority list. Just below a snowball fight.”
He grins. “Okay. Good to know.”
Now I’ll be watching for a surprise snowball attack.
As he concentrates on the road, I study his profile. He didn’t shave this morning, and his cheeks and chin are covered in dark stubble. I have a sudden urge to see if it’s scratchy, to run my fingertips along his jaw to find out.
What am I thinking?
I hurriedly turn to face the windshield and notice we’re heading toward the mountains.
“Are we going skiing?”
“No, but is that something you want to do?”
“Below sledding,” I say.
He gives a sharp nod. “If you guess where we’re going, do you want me to tell you? Or do you want me to keep it from you?”
“I want it to be a surprise.” Then I laugh. “But I’ll still keep trying to guess.”
“Then how about I just shoot down anything you guess, even if you get it right?”
We drive another twenty minutes, before I notice a sign for a Christmas tree farm. My stomach flutters, but I refuse to let myself get excited. Then Alex turns onto a snow-packed narrow road.
He shoots me a look, and I’m dying to ask him, but I don’t say anything until the road dead-ends at a snow-packed parking lot that only has two other cars.
I stare out the windshield at a man setting out orange cones next to a building that looks like a gift shop. “Why are we at a Christmas tree farm?”
He puts the car in park and turns to me. “I know you’ve only had one cup of coffee and half of mine”—a grin stretches across his face—“but I thought you’d be able to figure this one out by now.”
I shake my head. “But why? Your parents already have a Christmas tree. A gorgeous one.”
“I know,” he says, “but I talked to Mom this morning, and we both think it would be great if we got a small one for our room. And then you could go to a Christmas tree farm. Surely that’s on your list.”
I gasp, certain I heard him wrong. “We’re getting a real Christmas tree for our room?”
“Yep. Just for us,” he says, his smile turning soft. “And we can go to sleep looking at it.”
“It’s hard to sleep when your eyes are open,” I tease.
He taps my nose. “Don’t be so literal. Are you ready to cut down a tree?”
I’m already opening the door and hopping out of the car.
Alex goes to the back of the car and opens the hatch. He grabs a thermos and hands it to me. “Mom made hot chocolate.”
Then something else hits me. “But it’s Christmas Eve, Alex.”
“I can read a calendar,” he says with a laugh as he pulls out a collapsible wagon. “And Christmas Eve is just in time, right? I told you our task was time sensitive.” He drops a saw and a small ax into the wagon, along with a bundle of twine, then closes the hatch. “Let’s go find us a tree.”
We walk toward the trees, Alex pulling the wagon, me holding the thermos.
The wind is cold, and stings my cheeks, but we trek through an already picked-over section.
We both agree to be on the lookout for a small tree, about four feet tall.
He cracks a joke about Christmas Vacation, and that it’s my job to make sure there aren’t any living creatures burrowed inside.
“Not it.” My grin stretches my cheeks. “Isn’t it your job as my boyfriend to look for wild creatures?”
“We should make a list of my duties,” he teases. “Sharing my coffee and evicting wild creatures are obviously included.”
“Those seem like givens. What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t save his girlfriend from a wild animal?”
“If a bear jumps out of the woods, I promise to protect you with my life. But if a squirrel attacks.” He shoots me an impish grin. “You’re on your own.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Are you afraid of squirrels, Alex?”
He shrugs. “Superman has his kryptonite. I have squirrels.”
I laugh, a full body laugh. “Okay, you protect me from bears, and I’ll protect you from squirrels.”
His grin softens, and his gaze linger on me with a warmth that makes my stomach tumble. “Deal”
We reach a section of trees that meet our criteria and find one we both approve of.
Alex grabs the ax out of the wagon and kneels on the ground next to the tree, then looks up at me. “You look like you’re freezing. You should drink some of the hot chocolate.”
I unscrew the top, pour some into the cap, and take a sip. He chops at the trunk. After he whacks it several times, he sits upright and unfastens his coat, tossing it in the wagon.
“You’re gonna freeze to death,” I protest. It has to be in the upper teens today. The sun makes it feel warmer, but not by much.
“I’ll be fine,” he says as he chops at the trunk again. “I was getting hot.”
He certainly is. The muscles of his back are stretching his black thermal long-sleeve shirt, and I suddenly feel flushed myself.
I blame it on the hot chocolate, not the view in front of me.
Alex’s broad shoulders and well-toned arms are usually hiding under dress shirts, but now they’re bulging with each swing of the ax.
Since the tree is small, it doesn’t take long for it to fall to the ground. He looks up at me with a grin. “Timber.” Alex stands and brushes the snow off his knees, then grabs the twine to wrap up the tree.
“Can I help?” I’m feeling guilty about standing here enjoying the view while he’s performing all the physical labor. “We’re here because of me, but you’re doing everything.”
“I’m good,” he says, glancing up at me. “Are you warm enough? You still look cold.”
“I’m okay.” I take another sip of my drink which has already cooled off. “You look like you know what you’re doing there.” He’s already almost finished wrapping up the tree.
“I used to work here,” he says.
“What?” I ask in surprise. “Here?”
“Yep, for a couple of years in high school. I got pretty good at both chopping down trees and wrapping them up.”
“I’m in the presence of a pro,” I tease him. “I should have been taking notes.”
“Next time,” he says lightly, then seems to realize what he said, and he looks down quickly.
Next time. The words lodge in my chest—a reminder this is my once-in-a-lifetime Christmas. I need to soak in every moment.
And ignore the twist in my heart that there won’t be a next time.
He ties off his last string, then tosses the twine into the wagon. Picking up the tree, he leans it over his shoulder, then grabs the handle of the wagon. “Let’s go pay for it.”
“I can pull the wagon,” I protest.
“I’ve got it.”
I fall into step beside him, trying to memorize the moment before it turns into a memory.
The wind hits us head-on as we walk to the gift shop. Alex props the tree against the side of the building, and we both go inside to pay. The woman at the counter recognizes him and asks what he’s been up to. He tells her he’s living in Atlanta and home for the week.
I browse the items they have for sale, giving him some privacy, when he surprises me by introducing me as his girlfriend. He stretches out his arm for me to join him.
I walk over next to him, trying not to trip over my own feet.
“Hi,” I say, feeling uncharacteristically shy, reminding myself he only introduced me because if his family finds out he didn’t, they’ll ask why.
The woman gives me an appraising glance, then nods approvingly. “You did good, Alex.”
He wraps an arm around my back and smiles down at me, soft and proud. “I know, right?”
My heart flutters.
Not real. Not real.
But I can pretend, right?
His hand brushes my lower back as he reaches for his wallet to pay, and for a second I forget how to breathe. By the time he’s finished paying, I’ve pasted on a smile and convinced myself it’s just part of the act.
After we walk out, we head to the Wagoneer. The tree’s small enough that it fits in the back. Once we get in the car, Alex turns on the engine to warm it up. I take off my mittens to pour a fresh cup of hot chocolate and hand it to him.
When his fingers brush mine, he frowns. “Your fingers are freezing.”
“I’m okay,” I say, tucking them between my legs.
He takes a sip of his drink, then sets the cap on the dashboard and gently pulls my hands free, wrapping them between his. There’s no center console, and I haven’t put my seat belt on yet, so he tugs me a little closer.
“You don’t have to do that, Alex,” I say, my stomach fluttering.
“I can’t have you getting frostbite,” he says, his voice low and rough.
The timbre of his voice sends a thrill through my spine, and suddenly the car feels smaller. He’s too close and yet not close enough. I’m terrified I might do something stupid, like kiss him.
“Thanks, I’m okay.” I ease my hands free and slide over to my side. “We should get back. We still need to go pick up the stockings.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice still husky. “Agreed.”
We’re quiet the entire way home. The air between us feels charged, like the space is holding its breath.
I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I’m telling myself to be careful.
Unrequited lust is one thing. Acting on it is another.
And if I cross that line—if I let myself want what I shouldn’t—there’s no way I’ll be able to stay.
And I really want to stay.
When we get back, I walk through the back door first and find Valerie and Mallory in the kitchen, waiting for us.
“Did you get a tree?” Mallory asks excitedly.
“We did,” Alex says as he walks in behind me, the tree over his shoulder.
“We put everything in your room,” Valerie says.