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“Well, it’s not like any Christmas tree I’ve ever had, but neither is this Christmas.” Carissa had told her she needed to stop being such a people-pleaser, that she shouldn’t always ‘roll with it’ every time someone made a plan she didn’t really like. But the more she stared at the gum tree, the more she liked it. Something different: that’s what she’d come to Australia for, when it came right down to it.
“Wait here.” Heath banged out the door, and while she waited, she dragged the tree so that it was centred in the window. If they were going to have a gum tree for Christmas, they were going to show it off.
When he came back inside, he was holding two boxes of Christmas lights. “I didn’t know which…white, or coloured?”
“Coloured!” She spread her arms wide, gesturing to the decorating she’d already done. “Obviously!”
“How could it even be a question?” He huffed a laugh again and handed her the box of white lights. “Can you think of a use for these?”
“Oh, I’ve got an idea already!”
“I had a feeling.” He smiled—actually smiled!—and it took away any sting there might’ve been in the words. Then he tore open the package of coloured lights, moving to plug them into the outlet nearest the Christmas gum tree. The lights blinked on, so cheerful, she couldn’t help clapping her hands as he unfurled them and started working them up and around the tree.
In the two Christmases she’d spent with Zach, he’d always left all the ‘holiday madness’ to her. She picked out the tree. She put up the lights and hung the decorations. On Christmas Eve, she was the one who filled their stockings—even her own. The most Zach ever did was place the star on top of the tree, if she happened to get one that was too tall for her to reach.
But here was Heath, putting the lights on their tree, without her even asking. She stared at him as he worked, feeling like he was some kind of miracle. His blocky fingers gently teased apart the strands of lights—patient. So patient. It wasn’t just that, though. It was his laugh and the fact that he’d rushed out to buy not just a tree but lights. He was actually taking celebrating with her seriously. Like it meant something to him.
Heat rushed through her and all she wanted was his hands on her again. He’d been so strong, so gentle with her the night before, and she’d felt safe with him.
She shook her head. Her nipples were absolutelynottingling as she watched him gently twist a bulb and free it from a loop of wire.Woah.She needed to get her mind on something besides what else Heath’s fingers might be good at. She’d tried kissing him the night before. She hadn’t been so asleep that she’d forgotten—but Heath seemed to want to act as if nothing had happened. Carissa might’ve told her to go for a fling with Heath, but she wasn’t going to throw herself at the man. She’d already tried that with Zach, and that hadn’t exactly worked out.
She was standingon tiptoes on one of the breakfast nook chairs, tacking up the last scallopy loop of lights in the bay windows when Heath called. “Lena?”
She hopped down and stood back, admiring her handiwork. Her decorations might be tacky and gaudy, but they were fun. And from what she could tell, fun was something Heath needed more of. The man needed to laugh more.
“You think this looks all right?” He was blocking her view, his well-built frame big enough to hide the tree entirely. Which possibly said more about the spindliness of their tree than it did about his bulkiness. It wasn’t so bad as the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, but it wasn’t the kind of robust tree she was used to, either.
She took his arms in her hands, and moved him aside, more because she wanted touch him than because she thought he wouldn’t respond to actual words. His biceps were exactly the right amount of firm beneath her fingers. When she pulled away, she couldn’t help the reluctant slide of her palms along his warm skin.
Then she saw the tree. Her gasp was completely unintentional. “It looks so good!” It really did. Much better than she’d expected. It was the smile that spread across Heath’s lips that made her throw her arms around him. “Thank you so much!”
From her phone, which she’d left in the bowl on the coffee table, John Denver and the Muppets sang “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
She could have kept holding him, would have loved to, but she felt the moment when he pulled away, ever so slightly, and rather than grip harder, she let go. It was a trick she’d learned with horses: the release was the most important thing, if you wanted them to soften and be with you. Sometimes the horses took the bit and bolted off anyway. More often, they relaxed and did what she’d asked. She didn’t wait to see what Heath would do.
“Do you have any ornaments?” She hurried for her suitcase, which was still on the living room floor, in the walkway behind the couch. “Because you’ll be completely surprised to learn I brought a few…”
When she straightened, holding the small cardboard box containing her favourite childhood ornaments, Heath’s face was stricken.
10
ROCKING AROUND
Heath felt like every question Lena asked him, his answer was no. No, no one named Zach lived at this address. No, you can’t stay in my driveway. No, you can’t sleep outside. No, I won’t talk about that topic. No, you can’t use that Christmas tree. And, “Nah. Don’t have any ornaments.”
“You really aren’t big on Christmas, are you?”
“No. Not really.” He was dodging the deeper, unasked question—why don’t you like Christmas.He didn’t want to talk about it. “But I like that you are.”
A slow grin brightened her face at that, and he was screwed. He liked making her smile. Was getting a little hooked on it. He also liked being the one to ask the questions. Control the narrative. That was safer. “So, what’s in that box?”
“Just my favourites.” She clutched the box closer to her chest. “I got rid of a lot of stuff to move—” She shook her head and whatever darkness he’d thought he saw in her expression was gone, replaced by that bright, lopsided smile of hers. “The best of the best right here.” She slipped open the lid of the box and lifted out a metal galloping horse. “Every Christmas tree needs a horse.” She flipped the ornament over and showed him the back. Written in a child’s printing it said Cocoa Bean. There were three lopsided hearts drawn under the name.
“This one I got to represent my very first horse. Pretty sure my parents regret buying her for me, since it led to every other life choice of mine that they hate.” She was looking down when she said it, tendrils of her dark hair framing her face.
He forced his hands to stay at his sides, even though he wanted to tip her chin back up, look her straight in the eyes, and kiss her hard enough to make her forget whatever hurts she carried. If only kissing could do that much. Maybe she could feel him watching her, because her eyes flicked up to his.
“She was just the best horse.” Then she held the ornament out to him. “You put it on.”
