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“Oh, I am?”
I nod. “Uh-huh.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
I shrug, turning to toss the dishcloth into the sink. I can see his reflection in the small window as I say, “If you don’t, I’ll find someone else.”
His expression immediately sours. I bite my lip as he marches toward me, his body caging me in as he props his hands on the counter on either side of me. “What if I just handcuff you to my bed and have my way with you?”
His hips angle into mine, and I push right back against him. “Never letting me out? Your perfect little sex toy?” I ask playfully.
He nips at my ear. “I don’t think you’re supposed to sound that hot,” he teases. He reaches up to give my low pigtail a tug. “You’re too young for that kind of mind.”
I knew what I was doing when I did my hair this morning. He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me. I smirk, taking in his words. I really don’t know what has come over me. There’s just something about my uncle that calls to that sexual beast inside of me. Maybe she wants out of her cage because she knows I’ll just stuff her right back inside when life goes back to reality. “You bring it out,” I tell him. “I think you’re the only uncle I’ve ever…” I pretend to count on my hand like I’ve fucked another relation before, and he growls into my ear. I giggle in response, breaking free of his grip. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” I tell him, grabbing his hand.
He latches onto me, giving me a firm, brief squeeze like he doesn’t want me to get away before he loosens his hold again. His forehead creases, so I only persist more, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the swinging door.
I stop in the foyer to grab his winter hat. I pull it down over my head and smile back at him. Next, I pull on the boots, and he only relents when I’m standing in front of the door, my hand around the doorknob.
He fishes the truck keys out of his pocket, and I almost squeal as we head outside. It’s been days since we’ve been through the town again. Of course, I don’t know which way he’ll take me, but I hope it’s through the snow-lined streets of Winterhaven.
He’s quiet in the truck. The radio is on low, the carols of Christmas just barely audible above the truck’s engine. When we get to the town, I turn it up a little until it feels like I’m in a real-life snow globe.
We’re only a few blocks into town when he takes a right. The main street businesses turn into residences, and on the outskirts of that, I spy cars pulled over to the side of the road. “Where are we?” I ask, trying to see why everyone is parked here.
“The town Christmas fair.”
I gasp. “There’s a fair and you didn’t tell me?”
He shrugs. “It’s always going this time of year. This is where we get our Christmas trees.”
He meets me in front of the truck, then takes out a pair of gloves from his pocket and hands them to me. “You didn’t dress warm enough.”
I pull them on happily, and we walk side-by-side to an area of white tents. A horse-drawn sleigh passes us. The driver waves to Cam, and he nods back. I just stare, watching the beautiful brown horses pull an actual sleigh. No wagon or spinning tires. The whole scene is backdropped by snow clinging to frost-bit trees. “It’s beautiful,” I tell him.
“They do it every year,” he says in answer before steering me between a row of tents. There are people selling holiday crafts, hand-made toys, hot cocoa and Christmas cookies. At the far end of the lane, I spot green Christmas trees just beyond an arch that reads,Winter Wonderland.
Excitement pricks my skin. This is my first real Christmas tree. I grew up with fake, and since I’m usually at school right up until break, my parents already have theirs decorated before I get home.
I bite my lip, peering at all the holiday cheer, but it makes me wonder what happens when all of this is gone. “What’s it like in the summer here?” I ask.
“Like this but greener.”
I knock my shoulder into his. “You are a wealth of information.”
He pulls away a little, and I note the distance he’s put in between us as we walk under the arch.
“What kind of tree do you want?” he asks.
“What kind do you usually get?”
Before he can answer, a couple greets him. He talks with them pleasantly for a few minutes after introducing me as his niece, and then beelines straight for the last row of trees once they walk away.
I follow after him. Shoulders bunched, I watch as he takes in a deep breath. Then, someone else calls his name. The tension is right back as he turns, waving with a strained smile to the man on the other side of the row. I attempt to ask him what’s wrong, but he turns away, intent on staring at our different options.
With a frown, I start looking at the trees too. Firs and pines. Some have different needles and slightly different shades of green. There are fat ones and skinny ones. Each one of them has the names written above in red lettering.
“Find one you like?” Uncle Cam asks finally.
