Page 8 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
“North Waylon,” he said, his voice sounding like it was scraping over gravel.
I almost shuddered. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Waylon. I’m so excited to be here. I know I might not be what you were expecting, but I assure you I’m a hard worker and a fast learner. I’m not going to squander an opportunity like this. I’m here to soak up as much knowledge as I can and be an asset to you at the same time. My counselor warned me I had some big shoes to fill.”
The men shared a look.
I gave a gracious little bow and then immediately felt like an idiot. Why was I bowing? When did I think this was, 1840? “Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous. Flustered energy. My dad calls it my tornado tongue. I just talk, and talk, and talk—”
“Let me show you where you’ll be staying,” North Waylon said.
The shorter man beside him cracked an amused grin. “You’re gonna have a December to remember, Miss Dodson.”
I brushed past him as North collected my suitcase and lifted it from the ground with ease. “You can call me Winter,” I said.
“I’m Justin. Nice to meet you, kid. I’m going to get out of your hair. North, I’ll call you later. And Winter?”
I smiled. “Yes?”
He winked. “Good luck.”
With that, he took his leave, making his way to the Jeep parked in the drive. I hurried after North Waylon, having to do a little hop-step every other stride to keep up with his long legs that ate up the distance in record speed even though he looked like he was moving slowly. We passed a gorgeous farmhouse-inspired kitchen that was at least six times bigger than the one in my parents’ house. It gave way to an incredible dining room and lounge, and before I knew it we were pressing back outside into the cold, crossing heated paving stones out to the start of the tree field.
“Christmas trees,” I breathed as we passed through the first line of them. Hundreds of thousands of Christmas trees. I breathed in the cold, pine-scented air. “It smells incredible.”
North hefted my suitcase up a little higher. “Tell me you have more appropriate footwear in here than what you’re wearing?”
I looked down at my heels. “I have sneakers for exercising if that’s what you mean. And some slippers. I’m the sort of girl whohasto have her creature comforts.”
He grunted. “No snow boots, then?”
“No… I didn’t think I’d need any for this kind of work.”
“I’ll sort that out.”
Puzzled, I wondered why I would need snow boots. I knew it snowed in New York. It actually looked like it was about to start snowing now. But how much time was I going to be spending outdoors versus indoors designing elaborate Christmas scenes and events? The heels seemed like the more appropriate choice.
We walked for a good five minutes before I started to wonder where North Waylon was taking me. He walked with purpose, so I held my tongue, trusting my counselor hadn’t sent me out to the middle of nowhere New York, to this tiny town and sprawling farm where I would be murdered by my tall dark and sexy host.
I listened to too much Dateline.
“Does Justin work for you, too?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“No.”
“Just a friend, then?”
“Yes.”
I licked my lips. Not a chatty one, this guy. “You know, I didn’t know farms like this existed in real life. I figured they were a Hallmark movie exclusive.” I pumped my eyebrows, waiting for a reaction to my punchline, but received nothing but silence and the stoic stature of his back as we trudged onward. “I don’t know where exactly I thought people got their trees from to sell them at those pop-up tree sale markets, but I guess this makes sense. Have you been doing this a long time?”
“Family business.”
“How many generations?”
“Three.”
“Are you going to pass the legacy down, too?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes narrowing briefly. “You ask a lot of questions.”
