I level him with a look that I hope conveys everything I can’t say out loud.
Because the last time I saw you, I was dying for you to touch me while Travis was sleeping upstairs.
Because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than I wanted your hands on me in that kitchen.
Because I can’t look at you without remembering how close I came to having you.
And the look in his eyes tells me he knows exactly why I’m spiraling. But instead of making this harder, he just lets me have my dignity and doesn’t say a word about it.
“I know you have to sneak around in the middle of the night to do things that make you happy, so I sent Travis out to give you some space up here. He’ll be out delivering until tonight, so I thought…” Christian pulls off his hat, dragging a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looks so sincere that my heart stutters. “Listen, if you want tohelp, I’d love to have you down here, but don’t think you have to. Travis is expected to pitch in, but you’re not. You want to spend the next two weeks with your feet up? Do it. If you want to read in the middle of the night? Go for it. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do any of this.”
“I want to help, Christian. Is that okay?”
There’s something about him that makes me feel soft in ways I didn’t know I could be. Don’t get me wrong—I want to climb him like a goddamn tree and be a total whore for him. I want to feel the rough scrape of his hands on my skin, the weight of his body pressing me down, and his voice rasping against my ear, telling me exactly how good I am and how perfect I feel taking him. But another part of me wants something quieter, something more tender, like slow mornings, half-asleep kisses, and coffee shared in silence over a kitchen table.
I want to be his.
And that thought is almost more dangerous than any of the others.
He nods at me before gesturing for me to walk ahead, and just as I start moving, I hear him speak. “Thank you, Piper.”
Savannah hands me a drink as soon as I reach her. “Hot cocoa. Best there is, and I’ll die on that hill.”
“Thank you,” I say, fingers curling around the cup, letting the warmth seep through my gloves, and when I take a sip, I practically moan. Because holy hell, it is the best cocoa I’ve ever had.
I’ve spent the entire day greeting families, helping them pick out the perfect tree while they huddled together against the cold, cheeks pink and smiles wide, watching as they create memories right in front of me.
It’s intimate in a way I didn’t expect.
I never had anything like this growing up. We never had a real tree, just a makeshift one that Violet used to set up in our bedroom with whatever scraps she could pull together.
Now I’m standing on the other side of childhood, watching kids circle a tree three times because it leans just slightly to the left, or how they step back and tilt their heads, imagining it dressed in lights and tinsel. Even though I’m just the girl handing out saws and helping load trunks, somehow, being part of their joy feels like it’s stitching something back together inside me.
Chainsaws have been buzzing all day, but every time I’ve watched Christian bring down a tree and carry it like it weighs nothing, I’ve gone absolutely feral. It’s a total cliché, but sue me. A tall, strong guy who can lift massive trees could probably throw me around without breaking a sweat, and yeah, I’m weak for that.
As the last families leave and the sun starts to dip, I wander through the trees, letting the fading silence settle into my bones, allowing myself to breathe in the stillness.
God, it’s peaceful here.
“You lost, darlin’?” Christian’s deep drawl sends warmth running through me.
When I turn, he’s leaning against a tree, his cowboy hat tipped low, casting a shadow over those dark, watchful eyes that see right through me. His coat is unzipped, and his hands are shoved into the front pockets of his jeans like he’s been standing there for a while.
“Not lost, but I could happily lose myself out here. It’s beautiful.” He stands taller and steps closer, his full attention on me. “Can I ask you something, Christian?”
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you have one of these in your house?” I reach out, brushing my gloved fingers over the bark. “It’s so magical out here, and yet?—”
“The house looks like it belongs to the Grinch?” I laugh, and I hear that low chuckle of his.
“Something like that.”
He exhales, glancing past me toward the trees and the land stretching out around us. “I don’t celebrate at the house. I haven’t in a long time. Besides, all I’ve gotta do is look out my window, and I see all of this… So I guess it just feels like a waste of time.”
“Where do you go for Christmas?”
“My brother’s. Savannah helps him throw together this huge feast at the bar, followed by a whole lot of alcohol and some truly awful karaoke. He opens it up to the whole town, just in case there’s anyone alone who wants to spend the holiday with people.”