Turning to the trees, I try to picture the space where Hailey told me she was going to put it.
If I remember correctly, the space is nice and wide but not overly high. We don’t want to get some lovely tall tree, only to end up cutting off the top when we get it back. “Nothing over seven foot. But it can be wide.” I spread my arms as if Sean doesn’t know what wide means and immediately want to die when he laughs. It’s a nice laugh, though, warm and hearty like he’s laughing with me, not at me. Despite my embarrassment, I feel myself smiling. “Fuck off,” I mutter, but there’s no heat to it.
“Come on,” he says, striding forward. “The six-footers are about three rows back.”
I hurry to catch up with him. He’s only got a couple of inches on me, but his legs must be way longer because he’sfast.
We walk up and down the rows, stopping to look at various trees. None of them catch my eye. Either too spindly at the top, not enough separation between the lower branches, or not symmetrical enough.
I’m not usually this picky about a Christmas tree, for fuck’s sake, but for some reason I want this one to be perfect.
At my latest refusal, Sean sighs. “We’ve seen at least four trees that’d be fine. What’s the problem?”
I cross my arms. “I don’t wantfine,” I mutter.
Sean snorts and I raise an eyebrow.
“This is Hailey and Char’s first Christmas in the pub and I want it to be perfect.”
“Look,” he says, his hand finding its way onto my shoulder. “They’re trees. You’re not going to find one that’s the perfect height, width, and fullness. No matter how many times we walk up and down. Personally, I like a tree with a bit of character, and I’m pretty sure neither Hailey nor Char will care if it’s a bit thicker on one side—we can put that bit to the back. Sorted.”
I know he’s right. I know it, but some stubborn part of me doesn’t want to admit it. Am I always like this? Or does he bring it out in me? Either way, I need to rein it in or we’ll be here all day. With great effort, I accept defeat. “Show me thesefinetrees again.”
He laughs, and his whole face lights up with it.
Even though he’s definitely laughingatme this time, it still makes me smile, makes my stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and anticipation. I stomp that shit down because nothing good will come of it. Being the centre of Sean’s attention is as heady as I remember, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to crave it more and more.
I make a shooing gesture with my hands. “Come on then, we’ve not got all day.”
He huffs but turns and walks back the way we’ve come, which isn’t much better as it turns out. The bottom of his coat sits just above the swell of his arse, and my gaze is drawn there as he strides to the tree he’s picked out. The material of his trousers pulls tight with each step, and I’m quickly mesmerised by the firm-looking muscle underneath.
Working outside looks good on him.
“What about this one?” Sean asks, and when my head snaps up, I realise two things. Firstly, we’ve come to a stop. Secondly, he totally caught me checking him out.
Naturally, I pretend I was doing no such thing and focus on the tree in front of us. It’s a little taller than me, tapering out to a wide base. From the front, it’s definitely not symmetrical, but I walk around it, getting a good look from all angles.
I’ve only taken a couple of steps when I stop for another look, and...fuck me. It’s as near perfect as we’re going to get. From my new position, the lower branches are much more even. It has a good distribution of branches at the top as well, not bare-looking like some that we passed. “This one,” I say, eventually.
“See.” Sean moves to stand beside me. “You just needed to give it a second look. Sometimes the first one can be deceiving.”
There’s an edge to his voice and I wonder if we’re still talking about the tree. When I glance over at him, he’s busy taking off his coat, and when he speaks again, his voice is back to normal.
“Can you hold it steady while I cut?”
Maybe I imagined it.
I take hold of the top of the tree and Sean grabs the trunk lower down, then starts to saw.
He might not be wearing flannel, but watching Sean wielding a saw is bringing all my lumberjack fantasies to life.
I can’t look away.
With each pull of the saw, the material of his thermal top stretches tight across his back, shoulders, and arms.
I’ve forgot all about the cold.
There’s a heat in the pit of my stomach, building steadily, and every little grunt he lets out adds fuel to it. Christ, I hope it doesn’t take him too long or I might combust.
