We share a smile.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not,” he says easily. “We’ll ride together. It might be a late night—are you okay with that?”
“Sure.” A smile curves my lips. “You did rescue me from the tree decorating nightmare, after all.” I glance down at my hands. “Although I don’t know which is worse—the pricks from the pine needles or the blisters, which I’m sure to have.”
He laughs. “Such a baby. You’ll survive.”
“Thanks for the sympathy,” I mutter darkly.
“It’s called tough love.” He throws me a wink.
The flicker of warmth that whooshes between us catches me off guard. Is he feeling it too? The attraction is electric. I’m sure my cheeks are bright red. Needing a distraction, I rise from the drum throne. “I should probably check on the crew.” Anything to get away from this uncomfortable situation.
“Good idea.”
We go into the living room. “The crew” consists of a middle-aged woman with glossy-black curls and her teenage son.
Consuela greets me with a large smile. “¡Hola!”
“Hello.” Her warm and open personality is refreshing.
“You two sounded good,” Consuela says genuinely.
“Thanks,” Axel answers, “we’re getting there.”
“If he doesn’t work me into the ground first,” I joke.
“He does work hard.” Admiration coats her voice.
Consuela’s teenage son, Diego, is busy wrapping branches. They’ve already done four trees and are working on their fifth.
“Wow,” I say, impressed. “Y’all are fast.”
Consuela smiles, crinkling the network of wrinkles framing her eyes. “It helps to have Diego. He’s the fast one. I’m just trying to keep up.”
“You’re doing great. Thank you so much for your help.” Axel throws Diego a conspiratorial grin. “So, she dragged you away from your PlayStation on Christmas break?”
Diego makes a face. “She did … unfortunately,” he mutters.
Consuela’s response comes flying out. “He needed to do something instead of sitting in front of the TV and eating taquitos.” She throws him a sharp look.
“Well, there’s plenty to eat here.” Axel motions to the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge. There are some Hot Pockets in the freezer.”
“Awesome.” Diego brightens.
“You can heat something up after we finish this tree,” Consuela pipes in.
Diego nods and continues working.
Axel talks to them for several more minutes, asking about their plans for Christmas. There’s no trace of celebrity pretense or entitlement in his interaction, only warmth and sincerity. It throws me off balance.
“We’re heading out.” Rocking forward on his feet, Axel looks from Consuela to Diego. “I’ll see you both tomorrow?”
“Sí, we’ll be here,” Consuela answers in a way that leaves Diego no room to disagree.
I bite back a smile. Consuela’s tough—keeping her son in check. She reminds me a little of my mom.
