He’d been at the cemetery when his phone beeped with an email from Mayor Thompson. Cemetery time was sacred time, though, and he wasn’t going to soil it by reading an email from the mayor, so he’d put the phone in his pocket.
But now he was back at the tree farm, trudging through the snow between the rows of balsam pines, their brown needles drooping sadly toward the cold ground. His boots crunched on the icy path as he remembered to check his phone. He stared at the ominous email from Mayor Thompson glaring up at him from the screen. With a heavy sigh that billowed out in a cloud of resigned frustration, Ethan pocketed the phone and rested his head against the rough bark of the tree beside him. Somewhere on this huge tree farm, there had to be at least one tree that wasn’t inundated with brown needles.
Ethan’s gaze shifted from the sickly tree to the sky above, as if willing the heavens to provide some divine intervention. He knew he couldn’t blame the balsam pines for their sad state; after all, it was his responsibility to see them through this tough time. But with the mayor’s email fresh in his mind, he couldn’t help but feel the pressure mounting.
“Dear Mr. Woodward,” the email had read, “I trust that you have selected a suitable tree for the upcoming tree-lighting ceremony. As you know, this event is of great importance to our town, and I would like to personally inspect your choice before giving my approval…” The words seemed to echo ominously in Ethan’s head.
Laughter shattered the quiet despair that enveloped him. Looking up, he spotted his sister and her new boyfriend standing by a tree, holding hands, and sharing a laugh. How could they find amusement at a time like this?
“Nothing funny about trees dying,” Ethan muttered to himself as he strode toward the couple, his brow furrowed with concern.
The cold air nipped at his face as he approached Kristen and Mason, both bundled up in their winter gear. Despite the weight of his worries, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest as he watched them. They looked happy together, and he was glad for his sister. Just because he would never be happy again like that didn’t mean he didn’t want that for Kristen.
“Hey, sis,” Ethan called out, forcing a smile onto his face. “Mason.”
“Hey, Ethan!” Kristen beamed back at him, her cheeks rosy from the cold.
Mason raised a hand in greeting.
“What’s so funny?” Ethan asked, trying to keep the edge from his voice. “These trees need more nit…” His words trailed off as he noticed something peculiar: a pair of blue-jean-clad legs sticking out from under the very tree Kristen and Mason were standing in front of.
“Um… is there a reason there’s someone under that tree?” Ethan ventured cautiously, doing his best not to stare at the shapely derrière attached to the legs, which were half hidden by the low branches.
Just as he was about to inquire further, the tree rustled, and out popped a woman. She was covered in sap and pine needles. Her fiery-red hair was a chaotic mess, but her smile was bright, and she still managed to look adorable in an endearingly disheveled sort of way.
“Ethan, allow me to introduce Ginger Sanders, my childhood friend,” Mason said with a chuckle. “Ginger’s family usually spends holidays in the tropics, but she’s always wanted to experience a snowy Christmas, so I invited her out here.”
“Nice to meet you, Ginger,” Ethan said, immediately reverting to grump mode as he extended his hand cautiously.
Ginger clasped it in a viselike grip. Her hand was cold and sticky.
Ethan tried to suppress a grimace as he felt the sticky sap rub off on his palm. He glanced down at his hand, now covered with goo, and then back up at Ginger, who looked just as mortified as he felt.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping her hand on her coat. “I was just trying to prop up this branch so I could get a closer look at the trunk. I didn’t mean to get sap all over you.”
Ethan waved it off with a forced smile, his eyes still fixed on the gooey residue clinging to his skin. “No problem, happens all the time.”
Ginger somehow managed to grimace apologetically and beam her high-wattage smile at the same time.
“So what were you doing under the tree?” Ethan glanced at Kristen and Mason. He remembered Mason mentioning that he worked with someone who was some sort of plant expert, but Ethan had been picturing a balding forty-five-year-old with a pocket protector, not a beautiful woman.
“Oh. Well…” Ginger looked at Mason and Kristen uncertainly. “I have a way with trees, and Kristen mentioned yours need a little help. Just thought I might take a peek and see if I could suggest something.”
“Ginger’s being modest,” Mason said. “She’s one of the world’s leading agricultural scientists.”
“I appreciate you taking a look, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do. I’ve already tried amending the soil and changing the pH. It’s more difficult in winter, when the ground is frozen, of course.” Ethan hoped that was enough to discourage her. The last thing he needed was this chirpy ray of sunshine tagging along and distracting him from the job of making the trees healthy. He didn’t have time to babysit someone.
“She might have some ideas that you didn’t consider,” Kristen said softly.
Ethan could see the determination in Kristen’s eyes, and he couldn’t fault her for it. After all, she was deeply invested in the tree farm as well and genuinely wanted to help. However, deep down, he knew that the responsibility of fixing the problem ultimately fell on his shoulders.
Ethan’s phone pinged. Probably another message from the mayor. He glanced at Ginger. Her face was covered in sap and pine needles, but her eyes were bright, as if she was excited about a solution. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear her out.
Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking between Ginger and the trees. He didn’t want to admit that he needed help, but Ethan knew he was running out of options. With a sigh, he finally nodded. “Fine, you can take a look at the trees later. But I can’t promise anything will come of it.”
Though Ethan desperately wanted the trees healthy, he doubted Ginger could do anything, and he hoped this was the last he’d see of Little Miss Sunshine. What did an agricultural scientist know about pine trees, anyway? She worked with all kinds of plants; he specialized in one type—evergreens. And he had enough problems with the mayor and the balsam firs that he didn’t have time to deal with another one. The best solution would be to act his grumpiest, not encourage her to spend any more time here than necessary, and hopefully, she would soon go away and let him tend to his problems in peace.
Ginger studied Ethan’s face,taking in the lines of worry and the weariness that seemed to weigh down his shoulders. She couldn’t help but notice his handsome features too—his tall frame, dark hair, and captivating eyes.
