Page 11 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

“I’ll take those, thank you, Jennifer.” I hand Indy hers, and she takes a sip, whipped cream covering her lip and sticking to the tip of her nose.

Holly laughs in a way I’ve never heard from her before. My head rears back, and my instinct is to pull Indy closer to me. I’m not completely blind—I know Holly isn’t a perfect person. We both use each other for certain ends. But I’d never seen her outright cruel to someone. And Indy has given me no reason to think she’s a bad person. Hell, from the conversation she had with James in the kitchen, it seemed like Holly was the one who slept with the guy her friend had a crush on. Indy was blindsided today.

“Here, let me.” I pull off my glove, and Indy’s eyes flit between mine, wide and untrusting. As if she expects me to make her look foolish, and I have never felt such a desire to do anything other than put her at ease in this moment.

I brush my thumb over the tip of her nose, lifting it to my lips and tasting it for myself. The sweet, sugary cream melts over my tongue in seconds. Indy’s lips part, and for the briefest of moments, I forget where we are, what my objective is. I’m just a man, looking into the beautiful indigo eyes of a woman who deserves better than what she’s been given.

Her hands run up my chest and grip the lapels of my coat.

“Why does yours seem to taste so much better than mine?” I mutter, just loud enough for Holly and James to hear.

Indy’s smile is small, shy, and she runs her tongue along her top lip, cleaning up the excess cream. I should have licked it off myself when I had the chance.

“What is going on here?” Holly hisses, her gloved finger flitting between the two of us.

My eyes don’t stray from Indy’s as I give her a silent message.

Keep your eyes on me, Indigo.

“I— I have no idea.” I smile, my eyes dipping down to Indy’s lips, to truly sell the moment.

“Me neither,” she replies breathily, her smile growing, her chin lifting so our noses are mere inches apart.

The brassy sound of trumpets and the clanging of cymbals reverberate through the air. The moment is broken, but not before I spot Indy bite down on her lower lip, her smile dipping for the first time. Holly and James scurry back to Holly’s parents, her dad’s stare lingering between me and Indy. I ignore him, nestling Indy into the crook of my shoulder. My lips graze against her temple.

“I hope you’re as shit at singing as I am,” I whisper.

◆◆◆

Indy Winters might be the worst singer I’ve ever heard. Her soft caramel tone all but disappears the second she puts some effort behind it, her vocal cords straining as if they were being strung out and wrapped around a Christmas tree.

We’re walking back to her cottage now, the bottoms of my pants wet from the snow as I feel the damp fabric begin to cling to the bottom of my calves. Her teeth are chattering, her body shaking from the cold. The moonlight drapes over the snow-covered trees, making them appear as if they were covered in glitter. It’s beautiful here. The snow has a chance to lie across the paths, unlike the city, which has the gritters and snowplows on standby each time there’s a hint of a flurry.

“I think that was a success,” she says, breaking the silence.

“It was a start, for sure. Tomorrow we’ll get to work on the rest of the plan.”

She nods, her hand trembling as she tries to push the key into the lock. Placing my hand over hers, I steady it, hearing the snick before I bundle in after her.

The crinkle lines around her eyes are back. She slips off her coat, throwing it over the back of the couch as she perches to remove her boots.

“Let me. It’ll be a miracle for you to get these off,” I offer.

I kneel, lifting one foot so the heel digs into my thigh in the most exquisite sting I’ve felt in a long time. My hand wraps around her calf as the other pulls the tiny zipper down. I tug, placing the boot carefully to the side before moving to her other leg. I feel the warmth of her calf through the fabric, her fingers clenching and unclenching on top of her thighs. Once I’m done, I lift my head, watching her for a moment. Her mouth parted, color coming back to her face now we’ve escaped the blistering cold. My hand is still wrapped around her calf, and I squeeze the muscle, kneading it.

“That feels good,” she groans, her head dropping back, eyes closing on instinct.

I shouldn’t be doing this. But she intrigues me more than I expected her to. She attempts to act as if things don’t bother her, but her emotions are written all over her face. Even now, as she grips the back of the couch, her white knuckles tell me she’s holding back.

“Why do you want to be with James?” I ask, squeezing again, desperate to elicit another moan from her lips.

“Why do you want to be with Holly?”

I sigh. It’s hard to explain to anyone the deal that Holly and I struck. It’s not official; there was no contract or signing process. But we had a mutual understanding that I would provide the life she desired, and she would help me acquire certain things by portraying the loving partner. It was mutually beneficial. It so happened I worked in the same industry her father helped build, and being attached to his name wouldn’t do me or my business any harm. In fact, I saw to it that Holly was happy and healthy for the last few years to ensure we had a meeting. I wanted to meet her family after the investment with Charleston, the largest venture capitalists in Seattle, was secured. I wanted to show that I had something to bring to the table. That I was worthy. That I wasn’t just a kid who grew up with nothing and no one trying to take advantage of his daughter. We were a team. At least I thought we were.

My silence lingers, and she presses. “Aside from punching James in the nose, you don’t seem all that upset that she’s with him.”

“Would you like it if we sat around in our pajamas and traded war stories?”