Page 12 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
Trees?!
I knew my mouth was still hanging open, and I knew I probably looked like an ungrateful brat standing a good foot and a half shorter than North, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I’d been shipped off to the middle of small-town New York to hang ornaments on tree branches as my internship.
What sort of leverage was that going to give me in my interviews come summertime?
Who was going to take me seriously?
Hi, I’m Winter Dodson, and after all my hard work earning my degree, I decided to spend my precious December playing with Christmas lights and garland. Please hire me.
I cringed at the thought.
“Are you having an aneurism?” North asked, cocking his head to the side.
I scowled. “I’m processing.”
He folded his thick arms over his chest. “Take your time.”
I stomped around to the other side of the four-wheeler, put my back to him, and hopped up onto the seat. The leather was cold on my ass. I huffed, and my breath steamed in the chilly air.
Christmas trees. What a joke.
I didn’t even have any relevant experience to apply to the job!
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Ever since I was a little girl, my mother and I had a tradition of putting the lights on our family tree after Dad dragged it out of the garage and into the living room. Every year on the first of December he’d bring the tree in the house and start cooking dinner. Wealwaysate his famous homemade mac and cheese recipe on tree night. Christmas tunes would play in the background and frost would cling to the windows. Occasionally, we’d had a year where it would snow but not very often. Most of the time it rained. While the cheese sauce simmered on the stove and made our mouths water, Mom and I would wrap the lights around the branches.
She had this technique that she never deviated from that she’d learned from her mother. Every branch was wrapped in lights. It left our hands itchy and covered in tiny pin pricks from the synthetic needles, but it was worth all the effort. Having some of the lights set back in the tree made it even more magical and eye-catching. Once the lights were on, we’d hang the same strand of garland my mother had owned since she moved into her first apartment when she was nineteen. She’d lived alone, and she didn’t have all that much money, but she’d splurged when she saw the twinkling silver and gold beads in a shop window. They were well worn now, not nearly as shiny as they were when she was young, but our tree wasn’t about looking impressive or having the best decorations.
It was a testament to our family legacy.
Once the garland was on, we’d add some ribbon for depth, and by that point, it would be time to take a break and eat dinner. We’d eat in the living room, something I was hardly allowed to do as a child, and Dad would go on and on about how beautiful the tree was while we ate. Mom would criticize him for putting ketchup on his mac and cheese. They’d bicker and laugh. Dad’s favorite song would come on, Song for a Winter’s Night by Gordon Lightfoot, and they would abandon their empty bowls on the coffee table and dance in the middle of the living room in front of the lit but undecorated tree.
They still did that to this day.
I smiled and ran my foot over the frosty grass. Yes, there was something precious about Decembers, especially in the Dodson house. And here I thought I’d be there this year to help with said tree decorating. But no, I’d be decorating trees for a corporate stranger to line his already very deep pockets.
What would my mother tell me if I called her to vent my frustrations?
It’s just one year, and your counselor wouldn’t have led you astray. If she says this is going to look good in your portfolio, trust her, and do the best job you can do.
I pushed off the four-wheeler and turned to North. He’d been staring calmly at my back the whole time.
“So?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Thank you for giving me a moment. I need the credits, and I know I can do a good job. I just… need to think things over.”
He nodded once. “Very well. I’d hate to have to find a replacement for you on such short notice.” He swung his leg over the seat of the four-wheeler and looked expectantly at me, waiting for me to do the same. “Remember, if you do well, your name will carry weight and be heard by people who have influence in the holiday business. Rockefeller Center is no joke.”
I forced a smile and sat behind him, sliding my hands back into the depths of his warm pockets. “You’re right.”
We lurched forward and picked up speed, and I knew we were heading back to the cabin in time. The cliffside loomed before us, dusted with snow on the higher elevations. Soon I spotted the smoke of my little cabin over the tops of the trees, and a few minutes later, we pulled up in front of my porch.
I got off. “Is that it for today?”
He nodded curtly. “Take some time to mull things over. I have client meetings tomorrow, so I’ll need your decision by morning.”
“Okay.”
“Call the house if you need anything or if you need help with your bags. Don’t walk around the fields alone if you can avoid it.”
