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“Noelle can stay at Maple Ridge as long as she wants,” Colton says.
I don’t know if I’ll want to stay beyond Christmas, but I know I’m happy to be sitting here now. Between these stubborn men, at the center of their attention, the one thing they both seem to agree on.
“We should hurry up,” Colton says. “There’s still a lot to do this afternoon.”
He stands, brushes the snow from his cargo pants, and heads off in the direction we started from.
Sawyer shakes his head. “Nowhe wants to hurry up.”
Chapter Five
Colton
On the way back to my truck, I settle for a lanky balsam fir for the front porch. My arms are killing me by the time we finish loading all three trees into the truck bed, but I don’t stop to stretch. I don’t stop for anything, because I know what I’ll do if I give myself an even one spare second.
I’ll turn my head to look at her, and she’ll see it. My burning need to taste and touch her. She’ll see it as clearly as I can sense the illicit thoughts running through my son’s mind every time he thinks she doesn’t notice him watching her every move.
This isn’t what she signed up for. Trapped in the country with her stepbrother and his dad, both of whom can’t stop picturing what she’s hiding underneath her sweater.
It’s fucked up, but part of me hopes she might actually like the attention. Judging by how she was checking me out last night, would she really mind if I acted on my impulses?
Obviously it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that. My son wants her, too, and technically he saw her first. Plus, he’s a lot closer to her in age than I am.
Even so, if Noelle gives me a green light, I won’t be able to resist her.
I’ll ram through every barrier that stands between us, no matter who’s in my way.
Back at the lodge, we get to work dragging two of the trees inside and securing them in their stands. Frida and Noelle meet for the first time, and within seconds it’s clear that they’re going to adore each other.
Sawyer and I drag the boxes of Christmas decorations up from the basement. Noelle claps her hands in excitement at how many boxes there are.
“My goodness,” Frida says. “I’m going to need an extra set of hands to get all this on the trees. Are you up for it, Noelle?”
“Absolutely,” she says.
Noelle and Frida start decorating the tree in the lobby, while Sawyer and I secure the balsam fir into the heavy-duty stand out front.
With the trees in their stands, Sawyer gets started on dinner, and I head upstairs to clean out my mother’s old bedroom so he has somewhere to sleep that isn’t the couch. By the time I make it back downstairs, the women have made swift work of the tree in the lobby and the one on the porch.
“What do you think of this plaid ribbon?” Noelle asks Frida.
“I think that will be nice for outside,” Friday says, sliding her glasses down her nose. “The red will stand out against the white lights.”
I leave them to finish decorating and hop back in my truck to perform the regular firewood rounds. Antonio is already splitting wood when I arrive at the shed. I start tossing logs into the truck beds.
“You hear some good news or something?” he asks after a few minutes.
“No,” I say. “Why?”
He shrugs. “You seem more lively than usual.”
“More lively?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You know. Happy.”
I avoid Antonio’s gaze as I chuck the last few logs into the back of his truck. I hadn’t noticed the lightness in my limbs until he mentioned it. The spring in my step continues as we deliver firewood and clear dead branches off the roads.
Maybe my son was onto something this morning when he said I hadn’t ever laughed so hard.
