I laugh a little too hard at his reply, and his self-satisfied grin tells me that was his mission all along. I’m grateful he’s keeping things light. After the enormity of us locking lips, I needed to return to the comfort of our usual banter.
“You know what will make this trip complete?” he asks.
“What?”
He turns on the radio and grins when he finds a channel playing Christmas music. “What do you think?” His gaze darts to me, then back to the road.
“I think you’re right.” I tap my foot to the lively beat, and soon we’re both joining in, belting out the lyrics. I’m not even concerned with how horrible my singing voice is. He’s heard it before anyway.
The drive home passes much too quickly, and before I know it, we’re turning onto my street.
“Did we hit a time warp on the way home? It feels like it took half the time the drive there did.”
He smirks. “It’s the same distance each way.”
“I know that, smartass, but it feels like twenty minutes instead of an hour.”
“Probably because you were busy assaulting my ears with your singing.”
I snort out a laugh. “I can’t even argue with that.”
“Actually, I liked it,” he says, pulling into the driveway.
We meet at the back of the truck and wrestle the tree out. Then we slip and slide all the way up the driveway and laugh our way up the stairs. Pops opens the door before we can knock.
“Well, look at you two. I thought you must’ve gone to the North Pole to find a tree.” He runs a hand over his gray hair that’s sticking up as if he’s been dozing in his recliner.
“Hi, Pops. We didn’t go quite that far, although the trip there felt like it took forever.” I wink at Jordan.
“Let me get out of the way,” Pops says, stepping aside so we can haul the tree through the entryway. “Set it up in the same spot as always, by the window.”
The tree’s still bound tight, its branches pressed close. We maneuver it into the stand and then I remove my gloves and crouch down to tighten the screws.
“All right,” Jordan says, rocking the tree slightly to test its stability. “Now comes the moment of truth.” He yanks off his gloves and pulls a multi-tool from his pocket, using it to slice through the netting. The branches spring free, shaking some needles onto the wooden floor. The scent of pine wafts around us.
“Voilà! A perfectly imperfect tree,” I announce, clapping.
Pops chuckles. “I like it. It reminds me of the trees your grandmother used to pick. A little lopsided but full of charm.”
A lump fills my throat at her mention. “Yeah. She’d like this one.”
He nods. “She would.”
Jordan helps me turn the stand so the fullest side is front and center. The tree is beautiful, even with its lean.
“Now that the excitement is over, I’m heading to bed,” Pops informs us. We both say goodnight, and he heads down the hallway.
I fill the stand with water and throw the netting in the trash. I can wait until tomorrow to vacuum when there will be even more needles on the floor.
“I should probably hit the road before it ices over,” Jordan says.
I walk to the door with him. “Thanks for taking me. It was fun.”
“It was.”
We step out onto the porch and turn to face each other. “Can I…” he starts, voice low.
I don’t let him finish. I rise onto my toes and kiss him. The first brush of our lips is gentle, but when he sighs against my mouth, as if he’s been waiting for this moment, everything changes. His hand finds my jaw, thumb tracing just beneath my ear, the warmth of his skin burning off the chill of the nighttime air. His other hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. My arms wrap around the back of his neck as I arch into him. Everything else fades as his lips move with mine, eager and sure, like our desire has been caged for too long.
