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“Yeah, well I probably should,” he said. “After all, my father owns the place.”
My eyes went wide. “Really?”
He pointed up at a sign hanging over the entrance to the place. “Hanson Masonry Yard,” he read aloud.
“And you’re Brock Hanson?”
“Yup.”
“And the others are—”
“My brothers?” he smiled. “No. Kade and I go way back to elementary school, though. We picked up Valerio like a lost stray, a few years back.”
Just then Valerio came trudging over, dragging my freshly-wrapped tree. All bound up tight in its plastic webbing, it looked longer than ever.
“Truck’s over there,” Brock jerked a thumb.
“Yeah thanks, dickhead,” he grunted. “Wanna help?”
“If you really need it, sure.”
Valerio rolled his eyes at his friend, then winked at me. Five minutes later they were standing in the bed of my truck, tying the upper portion of the tree down tightly to the top of my cab.
“Got very far to go?” Brock asked.
“No, not really. About three miles.”
“Take it slow then,” he advised. He pulled a pair of the strings taut with two fingers and thrummed them like a guitar. “It’s not going anywhere, believe me. But it might bend a little in a high wind, and you don’t want to break any branches.”
It made me sad, thinking it was over. They’d sold me the tree, bound it up, and tied it off. Our transaction was finished. I wasn’t even done with my hot chocolate.
“Listen,” said Brock. “This thing’s a monster. You sure you got it?”
Beside him, Valerio was nodding eagerly. “Good point. How exactly are you going to drag this sixteen-foot Christmas tree up all those stairs by yourself?”
I thought I knew what they were implying. My pulse quickened.
“How do even you know I have to drag it up a staircase?” I asked suspiciously.
“Well you did saytop floorloft apartment,” answered Brock. “And it sure as shit isn’t fitting in an elevator.”
They had me there. I floundered for a moment, my cheeks turning red.
“Tell ya what,” said Brock. “Leave the tree where it is when you get home. Then text us your address, and when we get off work later we’ll swing by and set it up for you.”
He held out a bone-colored business card, with embossed black lettering on the front. There was a big ‘H’ that I assumed was for Hanson, followed by an office extension and cell number.
“I mean only if you want to, that is,” he shrugged quickly. “It’s totally cool if you’d rather—”
“Oh no you don’t,” I cut him off. I plucked the card from his fingers and smiled. “You offered, and I’m taking you up on it.”
My blood pumped faster as my eyes shifted from Brock to Valerio. They looked so different, like polar opposites. Both of them were totally hot, though. Equally yummy.
“What time are we talking?”
“Six-thirty?” Valerio shrugged.
“Make it seven,” said Brock. “Unless you want us unshowered.”
