Page 70 of Falling for Mr. Wright

Chapter Nineteen

Ryan brought the last of the tall Douglas fir trees to the front, propping it up into its plastic stand and bending down to secure it. When he’d arrived at the tree lot on the corner of 24th and 7th Avenue, he’d greeted Hank and Sylvie by asking for a huge favor.

Well, actually two favors. The first one was now sitting on a small worktable in front of him for when Sarah arrived. Sylvie had helped him with that special request.

And the second… He tugged the two pink balls dangling from the white Eskimo hat that he’d asked Hank if he could wear.

Once he’d told the old couple what he planned, they’d been willing to help any way they could. Sylvie had even offered him something that he hoped Sarah would be excited to do.

With the two things he needed for when she arrived taken care of, he’d gotten to work helping Hank move some of the Christmas trees to the front. It was the least he could do. Plus, he had far too much nervous energy to stand around and wait for Sarah.

“Ryan?”

He stood immediately and turned, his heart pounding as he took in the beautiful redhead walking toward him all bundled up in her ivory wool coat and red hat, her wavy hair flowing over her shoulders.

“Hi.” He smiled, trying to steady his breathing. “You came…um…I mean, I’m so glad you’re here…er…you got my note.”Way to start your romantic gesture, idiot. Stop rambling.

“Where on earth did you get that hat?” She stepped closer and reached her hand up, touching one of the round pink balls.

He smiled down at her and pointed to Hank and Sylvie, who were both not-so-subtly watching from the lot’s entrance. “A friend lent it to me.” He pointed. “He’s over there with his wife.”

Sarah frowned. “Is that the old man from the Santa Run?”

“Yeah.” Ryan chuckled. “Pretty random, huh?” He reached out and touched a branch. “He and his wife, Sylvie, sell these beauties every season. They run a Christmas-tree farm in Connecticut.”

“Wow.” She spun around, admiring the trees.

“And the hat was Sylvie’s. She wore it the first time they met—at the Santa Run forty years ago.”

“That’s so sweet.” She glanced over at the couple. “Why were you moving that tree? Are you moonlighting?”

“Not quite.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a blue rag Hank had given him, wiping the tree sap from his hands.

That act gave him a couple of seconds to gather his courage.

It’s time.

His heart banged against his rib cage, demanding to get the show on the road. He glanced down at the business card box in her hand. “I see you brought the malt balls.”

She tossed him a grin and held the box close. “That depends. Are you my Secret Santa?”

“Guilty.” He locked his gaze on hers. In a few minutes he hoped to be so much more. “Can I have a piece of candy?”

“You want my Secret Santa gift?”

“Yes. I’m feeling a little anxious.”

Clearly confused, she eyed him. “Okay.” Removing the lid, she handed him a malt ball.

He popped it into his mouth, ready to make his big reveal.

In one.

Breathe, dammit. Breathe.Two.

Three.

“Sarah, I love you,” he finally revealed how he felt.

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