She nodded slowly, giving him the go-ahead.
Their bodies vibrated as the chainsaw rumbled to life, and Luke heard Cassie’s sharp intake of breath. He helped her cut a notch at the base of the trunk, then shouted over the noise, “It’s all yours! Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Stepping back, he watched the chainsaw bore deeper into the trunk, all of his senses on high alert. Cassie’s slight frame shook with the force of the power tool, but her features set in determination.
Suddenly, a large crack rang out, and the massive tree toppled over.
Luke rushed to Cassie’s side, retrieving the chainsaw and killing the engine.
Breathless, Cassie pushed back the goggles, her green eyes bright and sparkling. “That was incredible!” Shaking out her hands, she hopped in excitement, a huge grin illuminating her face. “I can’t believe I actually did it!”
A vision of pure joy, Luke wanted to hug her on the spot. Instead, he slapped her on the back like she was one of his buddies. “Nice job. I think you’ve found your calling as a lumberjack.”
“I think you’re right.” She giggled.
“And now,” he said, bending down to grab the trunk. “You’ve earned yourself a hot chocolate.”
Cassie seemed to glide on air as they made their way back to the truck with her hard-won prize.
Luke had grown up cutting down their own Christmas tree every year, and while he always enjoyed it, nothing compared to seeing the experience through Cassie’s eyes. Her fervor was infectious.
Taking in the velvety black silhouette of the treetops against the star-studded sky, the brisk, wintry air, and the intoxicating scent of pine needles and fresh sap, Luke couldn’t imagine a more perfect night.
Until Cassie said eight little words that sent his already soaring heart plummeting over the edge.
“I don’t have a boyfriend, by the way.”
Chapter 6
Cassie groaned, burying her face in her hands while she waited for her morning caffeine fix to steep in the French press. The subtle fruity flavor notes of her favorite Colombian roast only slightly served to calm her erratic heartbeat.
Why had she told Luke she didn’t have a boyfriend? Momentary insanity? That was the only logical explanation. Her body had been pumped full of adrenaline while cutting down the Christmas tree, and the minute it drained from her body, it took her common sense with it.
Cassie rinsed her favorite mug in the porcelain sink and set it next to the French press, admiring the gentle curve of the delicate handle. Although she’d only been staying at the cottage for a few days, it hadn’t taken long to choose a favorite mug. It had little to do with the color or design. Although the vibrant red poppies made for an eye-catching pattern. The immediate connection stemmed from the way its weight settled in her palm, instantly finding an equilibrium as though it belonged there.
In two days, Cassie had managed to make herself more or less at home. The only room in the house she hadn’t explored was her grandmother’s. For some reason, Cassie couldn’t even bring herself to crack open the door. Although the soft white paint and brass doorknob caught her eye every morning as she passed the narrow corridor off of the kitchen.
She would have avoided her mother’s room, too, but Cassie had no way of knowing which one belonged to Donna Hayward. Both upstairs bedrooms were practically identical, and neither showed any sign of a former teenage inhabitant. Almost as if her mother never existed.
Forcing out the unwanted air, Cassie rolled the top of the craft coffee bag down as far as it would go before securing it with a rubber band. Her heart sank, realizing she’d gone through her supply much quicker than she anticipated, prompting another trip to town in search of more.
Mac’s Mercantile sat on the corner of Main Street and Dandelion Drive, its expansive green awnings shading both streets. Stands of seasonal fruits and vegetables like hearty kale, nutty parsnips, and plump persimmons spilled onto the cobblestone sidewalk, intermixed with freshly bound bouquets of carnations, chrysanthemums, and holly berry. Wrought iron bistro sets studded the colorful display. Although the winter chill precluded most people from sitting outside, each table still offered a free copy of thePoppy Creek Pressand a vase displaying a single Christmas rose.
Cassie brushed past the oak barrels of individually wrapped taffy candies and licorice shaped like lumps of coal to the back of the store, which catered to locals more than tourists. In between a row of baked beans and canned corn, Cassie stumbled upon a single can of ground coffee. Not one row. Onecan. Considering the odd assortment surrounding it, Cassie wondered if it had been misplaced.
“Hi!”
Still clutching the container of nondescript coffee, Cassie swiveled to see Eliza cradling a sack of flour nearly half her size, her dark eyes bright and cheerful.
“Hi.” Cassie returned Eliza’s smile, surprised to find herself happy to see her new acquaintance.
“Snatching the last can of coffee, I see,” Eliza teased.
“Actually, I was wondering if someone accidentally placed it on the wrong shelf. It doesn’t seem to belong here.” Cassie set the can back inline.
Eliza eyed the row of seemingly random items. “Nope. That’s right. Coffee. In between baked beans and canned corn.”
Cassie couldn’t hide her confusion, and Eliza shook so hard with laughter, Cassie feared she might drop the sack of flour, turning the entire aisle into the scene of an avalanche.
