Maddox
“Budgie smugglers” seemed too complimentary. Like you had something live and worthwhile in there.
Are you fishing for a… budgie pic?
Maddox
This conversation has gone in a horrific direction. If you send me a pic of your… budgie… I will print it out and post it on the bulletin board at the hardware store. Which reminds me, I have work to do. Goodbye, Hayes.
Wait! One more thing…
Maddox
What?
Tomorrow when we’re cutting down trees and being all ruggedly authentic… try to remember you’re supposed to be the grumpy one. I have a reputation to maintain.
Maddox
Trust me. My grumpiness is very authentic. Especially at 9 AM.
Perfect. See you tomorrow, mountain daddy.
Maddox
I’m blocking your number.
No you’re not
Maddox
*sigh* No I’m not.
My cheeks continued to hurt the rest of the afternoon and evening. When I ran back to town to grab takeout for dinner at Timber, I ended up meeting several locals who all welcomed me and congratulated me on the success of the first posts.
While I enjoyed my time meeting new people, the way I usually did, I was low-key disappointed the place seemed to be missing one ornery photographer.
I checked my phone off and on all evening in hopes of seeing more of his snarky texts, but there weren’t any. For the first time in a very long time, I hurried to bed early.
Morning couldn’t come fast enough.
When my alarm went off,I showered and dressed carefully, selecting pieces from Nordique’s premium collection—brownwool trousers, the exquisite cream Maribel sweater that came up high on my neck, and the camel overcoat that had prompted an unexpectedly heated stare from Maddox the day he’d agreed to be my videographer.
A look that had lingered just long enough to make me think about it later. In the shower.
I added the scarf and my new boots and styled my hair with less product than usual, going for a more touchable look that would work with the casual vibe of a Christmas tree farm.
“Stay luxe,” I reminded myself with a mental eye roll. Nordique’s unnecessary instruction echoed in my mind as I assessed the final look in the mirror. The outfit walked the line perfectly—upscale enough for the brand positioning but practical enough for a winter outing.
The Pinecone was already bustling when I arrived at 8:55. I’d intentionally come early, partly to avoid another “you’re late” lecture from Maddox, but mostly to prepare myself mentally for spending the day with him. I needed coffee and a game plan.
Sadie spotted me as soon as I walked in and waved me to “my” table—apparently, I now had a designated spot as well as a “usual” breakfast. Small towns were weird.
She returned moments later with a steaming mug of coffee, oat milk creamer, and, to my surprise, a plate covered in an omelette with a side of fruit. “Figured you’d want something a little lighter today. Your special someone likes his eggs over medium. Should I get that going?”
I nearly choked on my first sip of coffee. “My— Sadie, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea. Maddox isn’t my ‘special someone.’ We’re colleagues. Working together.”
Sadie’s knowing smile didn’t falter. “Sure, honey.”
