Page 21 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“What do you mean?” Jonah frowned, standing back up. “Do you have some sort of religious objection to it?”
“No.”
“Okay, then how can you notdoit?”
“I just don’t. It’s never been that big of a deal for me.” But if she were being honest, she’d always wanted to know what it would be like to decorate for Christmas. “Besides, my deadline always falls in January, so I’ve taken to renting a new place every year for the last few weeks of December and holing up to write.”
“What about your family? Don’t you miss spending time with them?”
“No family. Foster kid.”
“Oh.” Jonah scratched behind his ear. “Well, surely someone invited you to spend Christmas with them. You and Lexi seem close. Or maybe you’ve got a special someone in your life…”
“Ha. Not anymore.” And even when she had, Brad hadn’t invited her to his family holiday functions. Probably should have been clue number one that things weren’t going to work out between them. “And yeah, Lexi invites me over every year. But like I said…Christmas just isn’t for me.”
“Well, I just find that to be unacceptable.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” Her hackles rose, but the big grin he flashed her lowered them again. There was just something really…okay, adorable about him. But adorable equaled distracting, and distracting meant no words on the page. “Ugh. Jonah, I can’t. I need to write.”
“Come on. This is a huge White Christmas tradition. My father’s father passed it to him, who passed it to me, and one day, I’ll pass it to my sons—or daughters. I don’t care, as long as there’s a lot of them.” He cocked his head.
“A lot of kids, huh? I’ve never thought having kids would be all that great.” At least, she didn’t now that she couldn’t. Bronte turned back to her computer, glancing at the dismal number she had written for the day. Apparently, her brain had declared mutiny and decided this was the year the words dried up.
“Big families are awesome. There’s just something so cool about seeing yourself in someone else.” Jonah glanced to Bronte and winced. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. Really.”
“I promise it’s okay. I figured it out and put all my focus into my career. It’s the one thing I could control.”
Jonah nodded. “You never did find out if you had any other family?”
Bronte sighed and slammed her computer shut. “No other family, Jonah. It was just me and my druggy mother, and then she lost custody of me when I was six and it was just me. Like I said, it’s fine. I made my own family.” She motioned to her closed laptop. Except, for now, it seemed that this family was holding out on her.
Jonah stepped back, hands held up in surrender, but even as he backed off, Bronte saw kindness in his eyes. “Fine,” he said, “but I’m not taking no for an answer to the Christmas decorating. You need a break, and this is the perfect way to spend it. Trying something new.”
“You’re Mr. Persistent, aren’t you?” Bronte folded her arms across her chest, as if that would protect her from Jonah’s compassion.
He just shrugged, giving her puppy-dog eyes. Ugh. As if he could get any cuter.
Well, if that was going to be the way of things, she didn’t see what a few minutes helping Jonah with decorating would hurt.
“Fine.” She threw her hands up. “But only for a little bit, and then I have to get back to work.”
Jonah pumped the air with his fist. “Yes! Come on, I need help getting the tree from the attic.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the couch.
Bronte frowned at the zing zipping up her arm at his touch. That had to be because she was on her fifth—no, sixth—cup of tea. It had nothing to do with finding this Army man attractive. Not that he wasn’t. Him in his hoodie, joggers, and Santa socks.
Anyway.
Bronte jerked her attention back to following Jonah through the house and into the garage, where the attic ladder unfolded from the ceiling. A snowmobile sat up on a trailer, and a golf cart was next to it, a charge cord snaking from the back and plugged into the wall. Skis, sleds, and other snow-looking items leaned against the wall.
“If you want to stand here, I’ll hand down the box with the tree. You’ll just need to guide it down. Then we’ll take care of those.” Jonah pointed to boxes stacked next to the ladder before disappearing into the attic.
Three trips and half an hour later, they had moved all the boxes markedholidayorChristmasinto the living room. “It looks like Macy’s holiday department threw up in here.”
“Yeah. The Whites don’t do things halfway. Especially Christmas.”
