There’s a rough edge to his voice and it hits me deep in my belly. Sean’s words from earlier in the week pop into my head, and I have to swallow down the urge to just blurt it all out right here. But it’s really not the time or place for that conversation.
“About so high.” I lift my hand to my eye line. “The tree,” I add, like an idiot.
It’s Reed’s turn to smile, and our gazes catch for one long drawn-out second before he turns and points a couple of rows back. “I think we need to start looking over there, then.” He starts off in that direction, but I need a moment before following.
I want him.
That’s the only thought running through my head.
I want to kiss him.
I want to reach for his hand and tug him back, maybe slide our fingers together as we take our time choosing a Christmas tree to put in our house. I meanmyhouse.
Huh.
Apparently, Christmas really does turn me into an old romantic. I let that thought sit for a second and come to the realisation that I’m absolutely okay with that. But maybe it’s something I should probably keep to myself for now.
In the time it’s taken for me to get lost in my head to thoughts of Reed and I together, he’s reached a row of trees about the height I suggested and is waiting patiently, if shivering a little.
Itskas I come to a stop beside him. “You need to get a warmer coat.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
Oh god. It reminds me way too much of Sean’s teasing, and I mentally curse him for putting that thought in my head. I clear my throat, but my voice is still rough when I speak. “I’ve got a spare back at the house you can borrow if you want?” I should have thought of that before we came out.
Reed’s gaze flicks to mine and holds. “Thank you.” He sounds as gravelly as I did, and hope flares to life inside me. Maybe he does feel the same?
Tree now, though. Talking later.
“Right, let’s hurry this up before you freeze.” It takes great effort on my part not to tug him into my side. I’m not that much taller than him, but I’m broader across the shoulders, and he’d fit nicely tucked against me. He’d be warmer too, but I can’t pass that off as just being friendly. So I keep my free hand in my pockets and start walking.
“You can’t rush picking a tree,” Reed pipes up as he falls into step beside me. “It’ll cost enough, so you might as well take your time and get the best one.”
“That’s true.” He’s not wrong, although Pete always gives us locals a discount. I like the rustic look, though. A tree isn’t going to be a uniform shape all over, so I never spend too much time searching for one. There’s a certain charm to a tree that’s not perfect.
We walk in between the trees, giving them all an initial once-over while I ask Reed about his first week at work.
“Yeah, it was good,” he says, walking all the way around the tree we’ve stopped in front of. “I already knew my boss, but it’s been good meeting the rest of the team. They seem like a great bunch.” His breath is visible as he speaks, and it’s a reminder to hurry up.
I don’t care what he says, that coat can’t be doing much to keep him warm.
“What about this one?” He glances up and catches me staring at him rather than the tree.
“Um...” I can blame my flushed cheeks on the cold, right? The tree in question is about my height, maybe an inch or two shorter. It’s not symmetrical, but it’s not far off. The branches are full and nicely spaced, and the ones near the top kind of curl up at the edges, giving it a bit of character. “I like it.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you just saying that so we’ll be done quicker?”
I laugh, because he’s spot on. “That thought might have crossed my mind, but I actually do like this one.” I walk around it in an attempt to convince him, because he still seems sceptical. “Perfect height, nice width. Not too bushy. And,” I add, pointing to the top, “I like the way those branches curl in. Makes it a bit different.”
Reed’s eyes light up and he smiles. “Same! That’s what I noticed first.” He’s so enthusiastic as he grabs my hand and tugs me back a few paces so we can get a better view.
He doesn’t let go, fingers still wrapped tightly around mine. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
Yes.
I know he doesn’t mean us holding hands, but Reed’s grip is firm and sure, and it’s been a long time since I’ve done this with anyone. Warmth fills me, and it’s not until Reed whispers,“Jerry?” That I realise I’m rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand.
He still doesn’t let go, and neither do I.
