Page 26 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

The makeshift tree lot left much to be desired. It was run by a dirty looking man living in a trailer parked along the fence, still donning a fanny pack around his waist and a mullet unironically from the eighties and sucking on a wooden toothpick.

“Whatever one speaks to you,” I told Mateo as the group of us walked alongside the first row of fluffy Fraser firs.

He snorted. “Honey, I don’t know much about the verbal communication of trees in Colorado, but in Florida they don’t whisper sweet nothings.”

“Don’t be a scrooge, Mateo.” Nat came to my rescue, running her fingers across the needles of a tree. Frankie followed behind at my heels as I sized up a shorter, thicker one.

In all the winters growing up, the one thing I always looked forward to was picking out a tree. Mom, Dad, and I would squeeze together in the bench seat of the old Ford pickup and hold on for dear life as it rattled down the road toward Quail Creek Ranch. My father insisted the best trees were the furthest up the hill, so far that no one in their right minds would ever want to haul a tree that distance, but Mom and I would laugh and hook arms, following anyways and giving the thumbs-up when he finally declared he’d found the “best looking Christmas tree in all of Colorado”. Neither of us had the heart to tell him we’d passed twenty trees that looked exactly the same on the hike, but that was part of the tradition. One I held onto for as many years as I could before the magic ran out.

“What about this one?” Frankie suggested, standing a tree up on its stump and giving it a twirl so everyone could see.

“It’s too tall,” Mateo pointed out.

“You’re just short.” Frankie put his elbow on his best friend’s head like an armrest and got a playful punch to the ribs.

“I think it’s beautiful, Francesco,” Nat told him, sticking her tongue out at Mateo.

“What do you think, O?” Frankie only cared for my approval as I walked a circle around the fir and eyed it up and down. The branches were healthy and thick, no gaping holes where pine needles should have been. I was sure the ornaments back at the house were few and far between, but what little the boys did have would fit nicely.

“I like it,” I admitted, giving him an impressed nod of approval.

“As good as they come back home?”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re pushing it.”

We stood back a few feet as Frankie bent at the knees and hoisted the tree and all its bristles to rest over his shoulder. The movement pulled his T-shirt up his torso and gave me adamningview of the lower half of his stomach and that teasing V of muscle below his belly button again.

He and Mateo started toward the sketchy tree park owner down the lane who was watching Frankie’s show of strength with a little too much excitement.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” Nat whispered.

I clamped my mouth closed.

“I need another drink, I think. The sun is getting to me.”

“Sure, Phee. And Frankie hasn’t been following you around like a puppy since you woke up this morning.”

“He’s pestering.”

“You’re loving it.”

I rolled my eyes. “He told me he unmatched me because he wastoointo me. That’s a cop-out, isn’t it? It’s a line to save his ass. I can’t justgive in;he’s gotta earn it.”

“Maybe. He might be serious. I’ve known Frankie for a while now, and he’s not really the type to hit it and quit it.”

“He obviously is if he was trying to get lucky in Colorado Springs on a stayover.”

The two of us steered toward the front doors of the store and waited outside while the boys loaded the Christmas tree into the bed of Mateo’s truck.

“He’s in his mid-thirties. He’s basically the other woman at his own house.”

I giggled. “That’s funny, he thinks the same about you.”

“What?”

“Nothing—and besides the point. He could have been honest and just said I wasn’t what he was looking for, and I would have told him it’s fine.”

“And then you both would have been lying.” Natalia eyed me knowingly. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? You spend your holiday vacation getting eaten out by an attractive older guy who lends you his socks and makes you coffee in the morning?”

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