Page 10 of Mistletoed with the Mountain Man
His lips twitch. "How'd you know?"
"You're a straight-black-coffee type of guy. No frills, no nonsense." I move closer to investigate the espresso machine. "This is all for me?"
"Well, yeah. You're doing me a favor, decorating this place in such short notice. Least I can do is make sure you're caffeinated."
I look up at him, and he’s smiling, his eyes (leaning toward green today) crinkling at the corners.
"Thank you," I say. "This is really thoughtful."
"You’re welcome."
I push the cookie bags toward him on the countertop. “These are pecan berry bursts, compliments of Aunt Meredith.”
His eyes go wide. “Geez, I’m going to gain a ton.”
I busy myself with the espresso machine, and glance down at his waist. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure those abs will snap back in no time.”
This time his cheeks go full red.
"So, Deputy Giles, what's the plan for today?"
He moves to lean against the counter beside me. "You’re the creative director."
"I am. But you strike me as someone who needs a structured schedule."
"Maybe." He pulls out his phone, and I catch a glimpse of a color-coded calendar before he turns it toward me. "I made a rough outline. Subject to your approval, of course."
I scan his meticulously planned day: tree selection (9-11 AM), lunch break (11:30-12:30), and tree decorating (1-5 PM).
"You scheduled bathroom breaks," I say, delighted.
"Everything’s flexible. I’m notthatbad."
"Good to know." I grin and hand back his phone. “I approve of this plan.”
After we’ve tasted a few cookies and finished our coffee, we head to the Silver Pine Tree Farm, and surround ourselves with approximately eight hundred Christmas trees.
I’m trying not to stare at Kade in his navy puffer jacket and knit beanie.
He looks like a damn L.L.Bean model.
"What about this one?" He points to a big Douglas fir.
"Too tall. We need something that'll fit in the great room without scraping the ceiling." I move past him, brushing snow off branches as I go. “And we need at least two, remember? One for the great room, one for the loft."
"Right. Two trees." He follows, and I’m hyperaware of his presence behind me. "Any other requirements?"
"Has to feel right. You'll know when you see it."
"I need something more concrete to go on."
I spin around, nearly colliding with him. "Christmas trees are supposed to make youfeelsomething more than anything else."
His eyes darken. "Feel what?"
"You know, like magic and wonder and—" I scoop up a handful of snow and fling it at him. "—childlike joy!"
The snow hits him square in the chest. He looks down at the white splatter on his jacket, then up at me.
