Page 19 of A Very Barrie Christmas
Why bare her soul now? What made Nate so special?
He’s not special. You simply feel safe spilling your guts to someone you’ll never see again.
Yes, that was the most logical explanation.
You’re here for one reason and one reason only, she reminded herself.To finish the first ten chapters of your novel. Do not, under any circumstances, fall for Private Nathaniel Henderson.
For one brief moment, she wondered what her parents would say if she dated someone like Nate. Her parents—who cared more about a healthy stock portfolio than someone’s personality—would most likely be horrified. Her love life would become one more way she’d sunk below their lofty standards. Not that it mattered. She and Nate were the least likely couple on the planet.
“It’s a shame.” His deep voice startled her back to reality.
For one unhinged instant, she thought he might be talking about their inauspicious relationship. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the tree, the bow saw grasped tightly in his hand.
“I almost hate to cut it down. It’s so—” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “So full of life.”
A sharp, penetrating sadness clouded his eyes, transforming the rich blue hue to a muddied gray, as if his thoughts had wandered into murky depths. The intensity of his gaze was almost unnerving.
“Nate?” she prompted gently, but he didn’t respond.
He kept staring at the tree, clutching the saw until his knuckles blanched. He’d traveled somewhere deep withinhimself, somewhere dark and troubling. Where had he gone? What nightmare had his memories forced him to relive?
She wanted to reach for his hand, to pull him to safety. She’d witnessed the relentless effect of trauma too many times to count during her work at Reclaim, watched women struggle to wrench themselves free from the pain of their past.
It wasn’t fair that Nate had fulfilled his military duty, and yet, even back home, he could never escape what he’d seen—what he’d done.
For a moment, she couldn’t move, mesmerized by the intensity of emotion etched into his face—the deep grooves of grief.
She couldn’t fathom the connection between Nate’s sudden sadness and cutting down a Christmas tree, but it didn’t have to make sense. Her compassion didn’t live within the confines of her ability to fully understand. “Actually,” she said abruptly, forcing a brightness into her voice. “I changed my mind. I don’t want this tree after all.”
Her words seemed to snap Nate from his trance. He blinked, glancing left and right, as if his surroundings had suddenly slipped into focus. “What? Why not?” He fixed his gaze on the tree again. “I thought you said it was perfect.”
“Perfect is boring. I have a much better idea.” Grabbing his free hand, she led him down the next row of trees, following the sign she’d seen earlier, but had casually dismissed. His calloused fingers felt warm against her skin. Strong. Secure. Her heart raced at the intimacy of his touch.
Holding hands was a mistake. A reckless, foolish mistake. A mistake she didn’t regret for one second.
She stopped beside a small assortment of potted Christmas trees in various sizes ranging from tabletop trees to giant seven footers, but she didn’t let go of his hand. She couldn’t, as if thephysical contact had cast a spell over her somehow. “Let’s get one of these.”
“What exactly am I looking at?” He sounded pitchy and out of breath, even though they’d walked only a few feet. Was he thrown off-kilter by their connection, too?
“They’re called living Christmas trees.” She swallowed, struggling to focus on anything other than the feel of Nate’s palm pressed against her own. “You rent them instead of buying. Once you pick the tree you want, you bring it home in the decorative pot, string lights around it, and hang ornaments—just like you would any other tree—then bring it back after the holidays.”
“I’ve never heard of a living Christmas tree.” From the clear, sparkling sheen of his eyes, he liked the concept. His grip tightened, ever so slightly, stealing her breath.
Focus, Jules. Inhale, exhale. “It’s become trendier over the years. Families can even rent the same tree, year after year, so it can grow along with their children. Isn’t that sweet?”
“What happens when the trees outgrow the pot?” His voice had taken on a raspy quality, and he cleared his throat.
Was holding her hand having an equally disorienting effect on him? For some reason, the innocent gesture suddenly felt like so much more.
“They, uh, get planted in a nearby forest and live a long, full life.”
He nodded slowly, as if it took great effort to process her words. “Frank and Beverly won’t mind?”
“Not at all. Look. There’s a seven-foot Frazier fir in a festive gold pot. Just like Frank ordered. All we have to do is figure out how we’ll carry it back to the truck.” It had to weigh a hundred pounds.
Her comment drew Nate’s attention to their clasped hands. She followed his gaze. Her temperature rose as they stared at their entwined fingers, neither one saying a word, as if a lack ofverbal acknowledgment meant they could continue in this state of exhilaration forever. Or was that simply wishful thinking?
“Your girlfriend has excellent taste.” A male voice from behind them slammed the world into focus.
