She'd told herself this was just an errand. Pick up a wreath for her mom. Quick and simple. In and out.
Except her pulse was racing, and she'd changed her outfit three times, and she kept replaying the way Grant had said "You don't need an excuse" last night—like he wanted her to come by. Like he'd been hoping for it.
Stop. You're being ridiculous.
She pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, staring at the farmhouse through the windshield. Smoke curled from the chimney. Lights glowed in the windows. The whole place looked like a Christmas card come to life.
And there was Grant, walking out of the barn in his work jacket and jeans, sawdust clinging to his sleeves. The way he looked in those jeans… She bit her bottom lip. Had he gotten better looking? Overnight?
Her heart started racing. Hewashot. Did she always know that? Yeah, she did. But he’d gottenhotter.
It's just Grant. You've known him forever. This is fine.
He spotted her car and waved, his face lighting up in a way that made her forget how breathing worked.
Riley climbed out, grabbing the thermos like a shield. "Hey."
"Hey. You brought coffee?"
"I brought coffee. Although I'm pretty sure you have better coffee here."
"Maybe. But I appreciate the gesture." He gestured toward the rows of trees. "So. You need a wreath."
"My mom's been overdecorating. Apparently the the one from last year isn't cutting it anymore nor is it acceptable for the front of this house." She quoted her mom.
"Carol Monroe has excellent standards." Grant smiled. "Come on. Let's find you something good."
“She mentioned wanting a real tree instead of the fake one she has.”
Grant grinned, and motioned for her to come with him.
They fell into step together, boots crunching in the snow. The farm smelled like pine and fresh-cut wood, crisp and clean in a way that made Riley's city apartment feel like a different planet.
"What's she looking for? Size? Shape?"
"Big. Full. The kind that takes up half the living room and makes my dad complain about the needles."
Grant laughed. "So a Fraser fir. Classic Monroe family choice."
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything about your family." He said it casually, but something in his voice made Riley's chest tighten.
They walked through the rows, Grant pointing out different varieties, explaining the differences between Fraser and Douglas and Balsam. Riley half-listened, distracted by the way his hands moved when he talked, the way his breath fogged in the cold air.
"This one," Grant said, stopping in front of a massive Fraser. "Seven feet. Full branches. Your dad will hate the needles, but your mom will love it."
Riley circled the tree, running her hand along the branches. "It's perfect."
"I'll tag it and we can load it after lunch. And I’ll grab one of the wreaths we have made up as well. You hungry?"
"I—" Riley glanced at her watch. It was barely noon. "I wasn't planning to stay that long."
"Why not? You drove all the way out here." Grant's eyes held hers. "Plus, my dad made way too much chili. You'd be doing us a favor."
Riley knew she should say no. Should grab the tree and the wreath and go before this got more complicated than it already was.
But Grant was looking at her with a soft expression that made her want to stay. That made her forget why staying was dangerous.
