Chapter Six
Mason sent atext to Natalie a few days later regarding tree delivery. This time he made sure to keep it short and professional.
When he received her first text regarding the ribbon, he had been working and didn’t want to fail under his dad’s scrutiny this soon. Mason had slipped the phone into his pocket and tried to ignore it. He’d tried to ignore it as he created a work schedule for opening weekend. He’d also tried to ignore it when he made calls to vendors and verified Santa would be ready and that the photo area would be appropriately decorated. He’d definitely tried to ignore Natalie’s text when his dad had stopped by with Charlie and they’d had a chat about what type of things were still on the to-do list and if they were going to move the parking area to another spot in the open field.
Mason became so focused on ignoring the text, his brain was exhausted by the time he got home in the evening. As he heated leftover spaghetti in the microwave, he read it again and arrived at the conclusion he’d proven he could stay focused at work, passing whatever test he’d set for himself. Being off the clock meant there was no harm in replying to her.
Mason loosened the reins on himself and proceeded to have the most delightful conversation in his life. He was used to feeling awkward and unsure around women but, with Natalie, he became clever and funny, like he’d finally discovered someone who got him and his weird sense of humor. Every message he got from her had him laughing in his usually lonely apartment, and, for a short period of time, it was less lonely. Until he ruined it.
He told Natalie she was a woman after his own heart, which had been a joke, but it didn’t matter. She’d stopped responding.
This was why the Christmas-tree-related text was short and to the point. Mason mentioned work had been busy and asked if he could drop the tree off on his way home from the farm instead of early morning. She said okay and they set a time for after hours. There was nothing fun or flirty about the conversation, almost as if their text exchange about stolen ribbons and avenging birds never happened in the first place.
His truck sat parked in an alleyway spot behind Pony Expresso and he sent a quick text to inform her of his arrival.
Soon her head popped from the rear door and he did his best to keep his heart from reacting but failed. “Hey. I don’t know if going through the back is the best way. This hallway is a little tight. Street parking is kind of a pain right now, but maybe I can help you carry the tree to the front. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” He lowered the tailgate of his truck and pulled the tree out, setting it on the pavement trunk-first. The ribbon was still tied around the branch, reminding him of her red scarf. She wasn’t wearing it today. Natalie wore a black, puffy parka, bundling herself in it and zipping it up as high as it would go to protect against the November chill.
She stood beside him on the other side of the tree as he held it upright with one hand. Her dark brown velvet gaze slid their way upward until they reached his eyes. “Hi,” she said on a light breath, a wispy strand of hair playing across one cheekbone.
He was tempted to remove his own gloves and press the warmth into her cold cheeks with the palms of his hands, and then press the rest of her into him. Instead, he could only stare, mesmerized, in return. “Hi.”
“Do I need to pat you down?”
“Sorry?” Her question caught him off guard. Was she reading his mind?
“Oh! I didn’t…I didn’t mean that,” she stammered, covering part of her face with a palm. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to make it weird. I was just referencing our last conversation. I swear.”
He laughed. “You were? I might need a reminder of this conversation because it sounds intriguing.”
“You know how gangsters hide their machine guns in a trombone case or something?”
“They still do that?” Mason had no idea where this conversation was going but he liked her turning all awkward and cute. She used a lot of hand gestures when she spoke, and, even when flustered, she was as graceful as someone conducting an invisible orchestra.
“They do in old movies, and I just imagined you were smuggling in a vengeful blue jay the same way. Except, instead of inside a trombone case, he might be in the tree or in your jacket. So I’d need to pat you down to make sure you’re clean and not smuggling any blue jays—Okay, now that I’ve had to explain it, it’s no longer funny and I look ridiculous about the whole thing. Forget it. God, I want to die. So if this is an ambush, just get it over with because my dignity has already been massacred.”
Mason held up his free hand in a half surrender pose. “No ambushing birds here. Just an ally bringing you your tree. You can trust me.”
“Can I?” she asked while he tipped the top of the tree toward her so she could carry the lighter end.
Mason lifted his side and they made their way through the alley. “I’ve never met someone so suspicious of things that would be innocuous to most people. Normal people.”
“Excuse me? Like what?” She shifted the weight of the tree in her hand before continuing on the path.
“Birds. Big Christmas. Don’t tell me that’s all there is because I don’t believe it.”
“Okay, first of all, I take offense that my skepticism of these things somehow makes me abnormal. More generous people would say I’m a free thinker. Secondly, I have dreams of becoming a fairy-tale villain. Being the mortal enemy of Christmas trees, birds, and everything nice, has to put me on the right path toward reaching my goals.”
“If you’re a fairy-tale villain, what would that make me?”
She gave him a quick glance, as they adjusted their angle to make a turn and continue on the sidewalk. “You’re more of a Prince Charming type and therefore you’ll never be a true ally. I have every right to be suspicious and expect bird ambushes.”
Most people would consider being compared to Prince Charming a compliment. Coming from her it didn’t seem like it, as if she was drawing up lines and he’d already found himself on the other side of it. “Does a fairy-tale villain ever get a happy ending?”
“I think they make their own version. It just doesn’t look like how you’d imagine.”
“I’m imagining mass destruction and chaos.”
