She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like my uncle is going to pay for that. And I’m not using precious tip money for some silly ornaments. Maybe I’ll just use tea bags and hang them off the branches or something.”
“I guess we better take it all off and I’ll take the tree back,” Mason said in mock seriousness. “We can’t allow the Poinsettia Paradise Christmas tree reputation to be tarnished because you insist on hanging garbage off it.”
“No, wait, let me try at least.” Natalie scrambled behind the coffee counter and rummaged around. “It’s just about being creative with what you have. Fairy-tale villains learn to improvise and be crafty.”
She returned to the tree and haphazardly decorated it with individual tea bag packages before opening paper napkins, twisting the center into some kind of stem, and popping the paper abominations in between branches. Lastly, she tossed her scarf on the tree like a garland and added a brown knit hat as the Christmas topper. With everything in place, Natalie crossed her arms, tilting her head as if studying a masterpiece, one which was more conversational than high art.
“Are you done?” he asked.
“I’m still waiting for an apology. Ye of such little trust.”
He studied the tree, stroking his jaw as he attempted to concoct the correct words for describing her decorating abilities. “Well, it’s…” He threw a hand in the air. As much as he wanted to be a prince for her, he couldn’t fathom one nice thing about it.
“Yeah, you’re right. It looks like shit,” she said.
He chuckled. “I get that the scarf is supposed to be some kind of garland. But what are the napkins supposed to be?”
“Those are supposed to be winter flowers or snowflakes or whatever. I don’t know. I’m not very good at this stuff.”
“So, as a villain, you’re actually not very crafty?”
“No, I guess not. You’re not really going to take the tree back, are you?”
He shook his head as if he hated delivering bad news. “I’m sorry but it is our standard farm policy. Napkin decorations won’t be enough to save you.” He removed the scarf garland like he was a repo man about to retake possession of the white fir.
“Nooooo,” she said, her hand grasping onto his arm, her eyes sparking with humor. “What if I promise to pick up another box from Dollar Tree? Don’t take my tree.”
Mason began wrapping the scarf around her neck. “Please maintain some decorum, ma’am. Don’t make this harder than it already is. You’re going to make the little elf children cry.”
She lifted her gaze, her full lower lip in a pout. As he let go of the end of her scarf, his hand grazed along her jawline. Her fingers, still gripping his sleeve, tightened. Until this point, they’d never touched before. This was barely anything and, yet, he felt the heat of it down to the marrow of his bones. Her teasing pout disappeared as his own emotions shifted from playfully serious to wanting. He took a chance, reaching for her again and brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re so soft,” he said in a low tone.
“Fairy-tale villains aren’t supposed to be soft,” she replied but made no move to escape his grasp.
“I don’t care what you’re supposed to be. You can just be what you are.”
Her eyes grew large, her lips fell apart, and her chest began to visibly rise.
His desire to kiss her was reaching a fevered point.
The distance between his arm and her waist was mere inches and he tentatively closed it, her hand sliding across his forearm, as he found purchase on the small of her back. Fast or not, touching her, holding her, wanting to kiss her was the easiest thing in the world, like falling into bed after a long day.
“Mason,” she said, her other hand clasping over his, stilling it on her cheek.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make the mistake of kissing a villain when you really want a princess.”
This one tiny sentence had the ability to pop the bubble. His hands automatically dropped away from her. “What?”
Natalie turned toward the tree, grabbing the impromptu napkin flowers and packages of tea bags from the branches, and stuffing them into her box. “I-I’m just trying to—I’m not the woman for anyone in this town.”
“What does that mean?” There was a spark of something here, of this he was certain. He didn’t understand anyone who would prefer to ignore it.
She held the box to her chest, turning it into a shield between them. “I’m not looking to start anything with anyone. I’m a dead end. Get it?”
Mason set his hand on his hips as he considered this. He should drop it, leave her alone. He shouldn’t be trying to start anything with anyone either, instead he should be focused on the farm, doing exactly what he told his father he would do. Except, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to understand. “A dead end by choice? Or because someone made you feel like one?”
“What difference does it make? I’m still not going to start anything with anyone, especially someone I’m going to be kinda working with in the next month. I’ve got enough on my plate. I don’t need anything else.”
“And if you feel something? What are you supposed to do with that?”
Natalie looked him dead in the eye. “Wait for the feeling to pass. It always does.”
