Chapter 10
Curated Holiday Explosion
Istood in my kitchen rereading the small white card tucked into the vase of red and white flowers I’d carried home from work. The golden lettering practically twinkled up at me: “You picked the perfect tree. Now let’s make it shine.”
My stomach flipped in a way that irritated me beyond reason. No signature, but who else would it be from? The reindeer men. The nine magical men who had crashed into my life with all the subtlety of a Christmas parade through a library.
I set the card down and traced the edge of a petal, memories of last night’s kisses flashing through my mind like some kind of festive slideshow I couldn’t shut off. Pierce’s gentle touch. Vix’s hungry mouth. The way I’d let both of them consume me.
The doorbell chimed a jaunty rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” interrupting my thoughts. Yesterday, that would have made me contemplate ripping it off the wall. Today, it only made me roll my eyes. Progress, I supposed.
I opened the door to find Don and Blitz on my doorstep, each clutching sacks large enough to smuggle small children. Don’s massive frame filled the doorway like a gentle giant, while Blitz bounced on his heels beside him, practically vibrating with energy.
“We come bearing decorations!” Blitz swept past me into the house before I could protest.
Don followed, ducking slightly like he might bump his head, a soft smile warming his eyes. “Hello, Neve.”
“Hi.” I felt unexpectedly shy as I closed the door.
My body and brain needed to get the memo that these men were off-limits. Like, priority overnight delivery, certified mail, return receipt requested, whatever it took to make the message stick. Because apparently, my self-preservation instincts had taken a holiday vacation along with my good sense.
I watched as they deposited their haul on my living room floor. They wore matching red T-shirts withTree Teamemblazoned across the chest in glittering gold letters. Did these guys all get together and have a shirt-making party?
Blitz opened his sack, pulled out a box labeledTree Magic, and opened it with a dramatic flourish. “Prepare yourself for transformation, Neve North.”
“Is the matching outfit thing going to be a regular occurrence? Because I draw the line at wearing anything with pom-poms.”
Don’s quiet chuckle rumbled through the room. “We’re honestly pretty restrained today.”
“This is restrained?” I arched an eyebrow, noticing the way Don’s shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. The man was built like a redwood.
“You should see our ugly sweater collection.” Blitz’s sharp features softened into a grin that made something warm and unwelcome curl in my belly.
“I’d rather eat coal.”
“That can be arranged.” Blitz dug through his bag, pulling out strings of lights that seemed to shimmer even unplugged. “We know a guy.”
Don moved to the tree that Pierce and Vix had set up. He circled it thoughtfully before kneeling to examine the trunk. “A good solid tree.”
I pointed at the bags they were carrying that looked very similar to Santa’s sack. “Let’s get on with whatever holiday explosion you’ve brought.”
Blitz shot me a look of mock offense. “Excuse me, this is acuratedholiday explosion.”
I wandered closer, peering into Blitz’s bag. “Did you rob a Christmas store?”
“Only the good parts.” Blitz stepped closer. He smelled like cinnamon and pine, and I wanted to bury my face against him. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you. First timer and all.”
“I’m not a first timer.” I shifted my weight and frowned. “I’ve decorated trees before.”
Both men exchanged a look, and Blitz’s fingers brushed mine as he handed me a silver ornament. The touch sent a tiny spark up my arm. “Not since you were fifteen, right?”
“How do you know that?” The ornament trembled in my fingers.
Blitz gave a half-shrug, but the casual gesture didn’t match the intensity in his eyes. “Just a guess.”
It wasn’t a guess. His knowing look cut through me like he’d been flipping through my diary.
Shaking my head, I held up the silver ornament, and it caught the light, sending prism-like reflections dancing across my walls. Something about the way the pattern of light sparkled and refracted pulled at me, tugging a thread of memory I didn’t know existed.
