“Alright!” Gwen called, clapping her hands. “You know the rules. One tree per family, no fighting over the trees, there's plenty to choose from, and Wes gets credit for every straight one.”
“That’s a lie,” Wes said, chuckling. “The straight ones are hers.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Kristin wrapped her arm around mine. “Come on, cowboy. Let’s find ours.”
We walked between the rows of trees, hand in hand. The snow came up to our knees in spots, crunching under our boots with that soft squeak that only comes on the coldest mornings. Sunlight slipped through the branches, scattering gold across the drifts. Every breath hung in the air before fading away, thin as smoke.
Kristin stopped every few steps to study another tree, tilting her head, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Too tall.” She moved on to the next one. “Too bare.” Another pause. “Too lopsided.”
I leaned against a trunk, watching her, my breath curling in front of me. The light caught in her hair, streaks of gold against the snow. “You’re really picky for someone who once decorated a cactus with tinsel.”
“That was a low point,” she said, pretending to be serious. “I was homesick. Wait, how do you know that?”
“You were stubborn,” I told her. “Didn’t want to admit you missed home, and I told you I always knew where you were.”
She looked back at me over her shoulder, eyes soft but sharp at the same time. “Maybe I was homesick. You ever think that maybe home isn’t the place, it’s the people?”
The words hit harder than she knew. I pushed off the tree, walked up behind her, and slid an arm around her waist. The warmth of her back soaked through my jacket. I rested my chin on her shoulder, breathing in the clean scent of snow and cedar. “Yeah. I think that a lot.”
She leaned back into me for a heartbeat, quiet, the laughter of the kids echoing faintly through the pines. Then she lifted her gloved hand and pointed ahead. “That one.”
It was perfect—tall, full, symmetrical, dusted with snow like sugar.
I handed her the saw. “Your turn, Mrs. Felder.”
She laughed as she crouched down, the sound rising warm and familiar. “You just like watchin’ me work.”
“That’s part of it,” I said, kneeling beside her, lifting the edge of her jacket to peer at her ass.
The teeth of the saw bit into the trunk with a steady rhythm. I held it steady while she worked, the scent of fresh pine rising sharp in the cold. The trunk gave way with a soft crack, and the tree tipped, falling slowly before landing in the snow with a muffled thud.
Kristin looked up at me, cheeks flushed, hair tangled, eyes bright. “We did it.”
“Damn right we did.” I leaned in and kissed her, quick and sure, before she could say another word.
A chorus of whistles exploded from somewhere behind us.
“Hey!” Ryder shouted. “Family-friendly event!”
Kristin laughed against my chest and buried her face there to hide her smile. “They’re terrible.”
“Yep,” I said, not letting go. “And they’re ours.”
By the time we dragged the tree back to the clearing, the others were already loading theirs onto trailers. Nora had found a perfect spruce while Kipp insisted it was too wide to fit through their doorway. Fallon was trying to convince Nash that their crooked tree had character. Elle knelt with Parker and Cora, helping them hang garland on a tiny tree they’d claimed as their own.
Lexie’s crew had dissolved into pure chaos. Ruby and Sara were singing Christmas carols off-key while Sawyer dumped snow down Wyatt’s coat. Julie stood laughing, her gloved hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa, while Phil brandished a snow shovel like it was a sword and pretended to restore order.
The air smelled of pine, cinnamon, and wood smoke. Gwen had set out a long table of cookies beside a stack of hay bales, and Nora passed them around while kids waited for sleigh rides. The horses stamped their hooves, steam rising from their backs, harness bells jingling softly.
Kristin knelt beside Josie and Lottie near the fence, helping them wrap garland around a small tree. Both girls beamed up at her like she was someone they’d dreamed about meeting.
“My teacher showed us your championship run,” Josie said shyly. “You’re so fast.”
Kristin’s face softened. “You think so?”
Lottie nodded hard enough to make her hat slip down over her eyes. “My dad says barrel racing isn’t a real job, but I think it is. And I think he says that just to bug Mommy.” Josie looked over at her parents who were locked in their own embrace.
Kristin smiled and tugged the hat back into place. “Your dad’s not wrong, and I’m pretty sure he says it to bug your mom. But if you love something enough to chase it and make it your career, that’s what makes it real.”
