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“Decorations. You needed a little Christmas décor, spirit.”
He glared at her like a bull in a fight. “And you came all the way back out here with all of
this stuff to give me ‘a little Christmas spirit’.” He all but spat the words.
“It doesn’t sound like as good an idea when you say it.”
A long loud sigh came from him. His look turned contrite. “I have to say it’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time.”
Laurel’s chest filled with warmth. She smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way. Now I just need to get it all put together.” Maybe if he participated it would help him get into the spirit. With half lowered eyelids she asked, “Would you like to help me?”
“I’m not much good at that sort of thing.”
“I’ll show you. First, we need to go cut a Christmas tree. Something I know you’re good at. Also, I need some boughs to decorate with.”
“That’s in my wheelhouse.” He moved to pick up his jacket.
She grinned. This could be fun. At least Brandon showed some enthusiasm. She pulled on her boots.
Outside Brandon said, “I don’t want a big tree.”
“You are grumbling again. I thought we got past that. I’m glad you don’t want a big one because I only got miniature ornaments. I thought you could put it on the table.”
“That sounds like the right size.” He led her around the back of the cabin.
They passed a small pile of wood with a lighter center than the outside and others with very defined rings in it. “What are these for?”
“Nothing special.” Brandon continued walking.
His tone told her they might mean more to him than he wanted her to know.
He kept moving into the woods. She hurried to keep up. He finally stopped in front of a tree. “Will this one do?”
“Isn’t it too big for the table?”
He gave her a pointed look. “I can cut the top out for the tree and the rest you can use for decoration.”
“What kind is it?”
“Norway Spruce.”
She walked around studying it. “Then I think it’s perfect.”
“Do you give all Christmas trees that much attention?”
Laurel continued to study the tree. “I see things as a work of art. Worthy of attention and worth a real look.”
He looked at her for a moment. “Why did you decide to be an art agent?”
“I always liked art. My mother was a lover of art. She took my brother and sister and I to museums whenever she could. There were books about art in our house. I majored in art history.”
He started chopping down the tree. A few minutes later there was a crack and the tree lay on the ground. He finished cutting it from the stump. “Here. Carry this. He handed her the ax then lifted the tree to his shoulder.
Now, he really looked like a lumberjack.
“You lead the way.”
Laurel moved ahead of him.
