Page 35 of The Art of Being Merry
If you’d asked me how my husband smelled when we first started dating, at best I could tell you, “like a guy.” Why the minute I’m in Dax’s vicinity I notice his personalized scent is beyond me.
Walking into the store, Dax states, “Because it’s your first Christmas in Winterberry Junction, everyone needs a special ornament to commemorate the occasion. You can pick out whatever you want, and it’s my treat. Think of it as a welcome gift to our wonderful town.” He glances at me as he says the last part, knowing I’ll protest his gift. His sweet gesture almost brings me totears. I’m questioning again for the millionth time why he’s being so kind to us.
He sidles up to me when the boys are occupied with different ornaments. As if he can read my mind, he speaks, “Let me do this for them, please. And you, too. If only to have a Winterberry Junction ornament on your tree.”
“Thought you said we could pick whatever we want. Why does it have to be a Winterberry one?”
“Figured you’d put up less of a fight if it was related to the town, but you do you, Clementine. You want a pickle, get a pickle. Want a beach scene? Get that. Want something else? Give in to your heart’s desire and choose your favorite ornament. The only stipulation is I’m paying.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Dax Nicholas.” My brows furrow. “Is Dax your full name?” I’ve wanted to ask since I met him, but it never felt like the right time. I’m not sure now is, but once it’s out there, I’m not taking it back.
“That’s what it says on my birth certificate. Dax Merritt Nicholas.”
“Gotcha.”
“Time’s a wastin’. Go pick out your topper and ornament. I’ve still got to set up the tree before the night is over.”
“Oh, we need a stand, too. Figured you’d have opinions on the best one.” I can’t keep the sass out of the delivery of the comment. Nor can I not exaggerate the sway of my hips when I walk away from him.
Just because I shouldn’t provoke him doesn’t mean I won’t.
It’s almost like I can’t help myself, which is a problem I’m creating for myself and me alone.
I’m not even looking for another relationship, but I wouldn’t mind getting into bed with Dax if the opportunity arose.
I wouldn’t mind it at all.
Though I shouldn’t be thinking about having sex in the middle of the cutest Christmas store.
True to its name, it’s an oversized barn outfitted to accommodate “rows” of holiday items. From ornaments to tree toppers to holiday decor, if you needed, you could outfit your entire house in decorations, both interior and exterior.
I scour every aisle, searching for the best ornament. There’s an entire display of Winterberry Junction ornaments, but nothing catches my eye. I’d rather have something that reminds me of Dax and the way he’s helped me since moving to town, always going above and beyond what I expect he’ll do.
I spot a depiction of Main Street all lit up and decorated with lights. Even though it’s not specifically my design, it’s the perfect way to memorialize my win and my first Christmas as a Winterberry resident. I’m so lit up with excitement that the only thing that can eclipse it is finding Jace in Dax’s arms for him see the ornaments better. What melts my heart further is the smile on Jace’s face, his excitement exuding off. I have no way of knowing exactly what fills his heart so full of joy, but I have a pretty good guess.
“Mama, look what I found. Isn’t it perfect?” Atlas shoves a video game controller ornament into my hand.
My throat’s clogged, and I clear it several times to get rid of the emotion collecting there. When I feel like I can speak without tearing up, I say, “Yep. That will look great on our tree.”
“I’m gonna find the best spot for it, front and center.”
“Mama. Mama. Come see,” Jace calls out from the end of the aisle. Still comfortable in Dax’s arms, as if this isn’t the first time he’s been there.
Atlas and I walk down the aisle, curious to see what he found. When we’re close enough to see it, he holds it up. It’s a collection of art supplies.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do not cry,I scold myself. My whole “I’m not a crier” is proving to be quite the lie lately.
“I love it. It’s the best for you.”
“I knew you’d love it. It was so high, but Dax helped me get it.”
I can’t look at the man in question. Rude or not, if I give in and glance in his direction, I’m going to lose it. And then I’d have to explain to the boys what happy tears mean. And I’d rather not upset them.
“That was so kind of him. Let me show you the topper I found.” I spin on my heels, moisture threatening the corners ofmy eyes. I lead the way to a section a few rows over, waiting until everyone joins me to show them the star I picked out.
It’s green with white lights, not too big but not small, the perfect size for our tree. Thankfully, the boys like it, saving me the hassle of having to pick out something else.
“The green is almost the same shade as the accent wall in your living room. Nice choice.”
