“You wouldn’t mind teaching a pretty girl how to ride would ya?” Neither of them answers. That’s okay, I’ve gotten used to their stony silence. Seems we’re alike in that way.
“Don’t guess either of y’all know where to get a Christmas tree around here?” They ignore me.
Grabbing the axe out of the corner, I hike out through calf-deep snow in hunt of some sort of tree. Reacher chases through a couple of possibilities peeing on them in turn. I guess not those.
I’m not caving into her demand. It’s just that she’s trapped here, and I’m trying to be a good host. That’s what I’m going to tell myself anyway. The fact I know her face will light up when I drag a Christmas tree inside has no bearing on it. Nope, no bearing at all. Just making a friend of my brother’s comfortable.
“How about this one?” I ask the dog. “And if you lift your leg anywhere near, I’m chopping it off instead of the tree.” He considers me for a second before moving on. I think it will be a suitable cedar tree. It’s the only thing still green out here. Hopefully she’s not allergic to them.
I chop it down and drag it through the snow back to the barn. With it propped up in the corner, I chop off some of the lower branches so it’ll sit inside a bucket. It should fit inside my living room without taking up too much room. As the sun starts to set, I hoist the tree on my shoulder and walk to the house.
“Hey, I got you something,” I announce when I open the front door. Some amazing aroma wafts through the air. My stomach rumbles in response. Reacher barks his approval.
“Is that a Christmas tree?” Harmony asks, rushing into the room. Her look of excitement is the very one I was aiming for when I chopped this bad boy down. She does some kind of little happy dance in front of me while clapping her hands. How could anyone not want to spend all their time in this woman’s orbit? Even if she does talk a lot.
“Here.” I hold the bucket out until she snatches it from my hands. I motion to a spot near the front windows and lower the tree into it. “Needs water.” She flits off into the kitchen and returns with the kettle full of tap water.
“I can’t believe you brought me a tree. And it’s a real one! It might be the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me,” she gushes. Why would chopping down a tree make the top of the list? “After supper, you can help me make garland and paper snowflakes for it.”
“What are we, in kindergarten?” When her face falls, I feel like an asshole. “I think I have some frozen cranberries we can defrost for the garland if you think they’ll work.”
She nods, but I can tell I’ve crushed her spirit again. I can fix this. “What is one thing you always wanted for Christmas but never got?” I follow her into the kitchen while she thinks.
“Other than a horse?” she asks.
“Other than a horse.”
“I guess it would be one of those karaoke machines with all of the neon lights.”
“Those are pretty cool. I always wanted a sled like you see people using in the movies. Mom used to watch Hallmark movies starting in November. She kept telling me that a sled only works in the snowy states.”
“You should go to one of the snowy states one Christmas. You could hire someone to watch the ranch.” Her smile has returned, so I guess I’m forgiven.
“Maybe.” She grows silent as she stirs something on the stove. I don’t like it. I know I complain when she talks nonstop, but it’s better than silence. I fight the urge to find out if she’s still mad at me.
I remember Mom complaining about Dad asking her that every time she wasn’t her usual chipper self. Harmony isn’t minethough. I don’t get to worry about her happiness. Do I? It seems like I should have to earn that right.
“What are you making? It smells amazing.”
“It’s an old southern recipe that I think you’re going to like.” Her smile brightens a little more, and my heart skips a beat. I’m sure it’s just from coming into the warmth from being outside. It couldn’t possibly be because I’m falling for this girl after one day. “You have a weirdly well-stocked pantry,” she adds.
“I visit Travis once a month and stock up.”
“Good thing. I think it’s snowing again.” She motions toward the front windows. Turning around, I find soft flakes falling in the last of the sunlight. I’ve never seen it snow like this, especially in December. “I’m sorry you’re trapped with me,” she says.
“I’m not trapped.”
“Ensnared?”
“Not that either.”
“Ambuscaded?”
“Now who’s been reading the dictionary?”
She throws back her head and laughs. When she spears me with her gaze again, her soft eyes dance with mirth.
Once again, I have to fight the urge to kiss her. It would be so easy to pull her into my arms and press my lips to her soft neck. But she has no means to escape me. I would be that letch taking advantage of her situation. I know my parents raised better sons than that.
