I took a sip, hearing the word husband roll around in my brain. Did she think we could get married? Puzzled, I smiled and sipped my cider.
The screen door swung open and slammed shut, surprising me and causing my drink to spill on the table. I rushed to the sink to clean it up.
Connor stood in an oversized jacket, black cap, and ski gloves. “Trailers ready and the truck’s warming up. You ready to find a tree?”
The four of us squeezed into the bed of the small truck. Deirdre pressed against Connor, the stick shift in between her legs, and Jaime beside her with me on his lap. Two axes rested at my feet, and I stiffened, just in case a divot on the trail caused the ax to nick my legs. We bounded down the dirt path into the woods behind the house and stopped beside a cluster of trees. Climbing out, I scanned the field.
“What do you think of this one, Deerdj?” Deerdj. Deirdre’s nickname sounded too intimate for me to hear on Connor’s lips, so I slowed my steps behind her.
“Aye, that’s a good one, but do you think it should grow for one more year?”
Jaime hung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him. “Every time we take a tree, we plant another one, so we’ll never run out. It takes years for the trees to grow to the size we need.”
“I’ve never had a real tree,” I admitted. “My mom hates the mess pine trees make, so we decorate the same fake one every year. We set it up the day after Thanksgiving and take it down the day after the New Year.”
“A fake tree…blasphemy,” Connor grunted.
“Don’t you miss the smell of pine?” Deirdre asked.
“We used candles. It wasn’t the same, but it’s all I know.”
“Well, Rory, I’d like you to have the honor of picking out our tree,” Deirdre said.
I leaned into Jaime and inhaled his cologne. Moving away from him, I walked beside Deirdre. “Are you sure?”
“Aye. It’s your first Christmas in Ireland. Wouldn’t you like to pick out the tree?”
I never imagined meeting such kind people. “I would love to.”
I walked in and out of the trees, examining the height, width, and circumference of each one. Jaime’s house was tiny for American standards, and I didn’t want to insult them by picking out a tree too small or overwhelm them by picking out a tree too big.
“This one,” I said, pointing to a tree about four inches taller than Jaime and twice as wide. “This one is perfect.” Deirdre nodded her head in approval and called Connor and Jaime over.
Connor hacked at the tree trunk with the heavy steel-tipped ax. Deirdre pulled me toward the truck and supervised from a distance. “Connor, dear, go to the other side! It’s tipping.”
Connor stepped back and motioned for Jaime to finish the job. Jaime removed his jacket and his arm muscles rippled with every smack. He pulled the ax back, fully rotating his shoulders and hips like he was hitting a baseball for a home run. His face scrunched, and grunts escaped his lips as the blade kissed the bark.
The men pushed the tree, burying their arms in the branches, and it fell to the ground. The sounds of leaves crunching, branches breaking, and the ground shaking stopped as quickly as it started.
“Come on, Rory,” Deirdre called. The four of us grabbed the trunk and hoisted it out of the woods toward the truck. I browsed the branches for bugs but dove right in when I saw my three lumberjacks grasp the tree with their bare hands.
It was heavier than I expected, and sweat poured out of my armpits and forehead. “Hold on, hold on,” I gasped. I ripped my jacket, scarf, and hat off and threw them on the forest floor. “Okay.”
Jaime’s eyes traveled up and down my body, and lust lingered on my skin. I felt his eyes on me from across the tree, and I licked my lips and pressed my top teeth against my bottom lip. This man turned me into a puddle with his eyes. Desire zapped through me at the wonderment of what he could do with his hands.
As we heaved the tree toward the truck, I couldn’t help but focus on Jaime’s backside as he manhandled that tree. My body tingled and I blushed behind my already red cheeks. Behind castle walls, he would be mine.
Chapter 35
The peat fire had smoldered, but the woodsy scent loitered throughout the air. I sniffed deeply, breathing in the remnants of soil, pine, and rain with the occasional hint of apple emanating from the kitchen. “It smells like Ireland,” I said to Jaime as we walked into the house. I wanted to remember that comforting scent for the rest of my days.
I removed my coat and placed it on the chair’s arm, hugging myself while Connor poked the fire to bring it back to life.
“Da, let me know when you’re ready for the tree,” Jaime said, rubbing his hands together.
Deirdre ran into the kitchen, carrying a tray of white and wheat triangle sandwiches. “Hang sandwich? Is anyone hungry?” A round floral plate waved under my nose.
I didn’t know what a hang sandwich was, but I took one and peered at the insides.
