Regardless of what he meant, that was my cue to exit if there ever was one. Yet I remained stuck, frozen in place.
Whatever the guys were discussing, heatedly arguing over, they kept their voices low. Elm’s gaze held and kept mine. Green eyes swirling with emotions held me captive. What the hell am I supposed to do? Go? Stay? Run?
If I didn’t know better I’d say they were growl-rumble-speaking at each other, but that was just silly. Growl-speaking wasn’t a thing. It was most likely an interpreting tone thing. Birch joined whatever the hell was going on a few feet away from me, using that same weird growl-speaking like his brothers, dragging Elm’s attention from me.
No longer locked in his gaze, turning to sneak off, I heard a tell-tale crinkle and paused. One glance down at my inner coat pocket and I felt like doing a bit of snarling myself.
About to march over to Cy and give him a piece of my mind, Birch shot in front of me, seeing me coming, effectivelyblocking my way. Elm may take the lead in tallest of this brood but the Tree men were all bruisers in each their own right.
What Birch lacked in height, he made up for in sheer breadth. His wide shoulders were the first thing you noticed about him. It was kinda hard not to.
“Your brother is a lying, kiss-distracting, flocked toad and I’m about to give him a piece of my mind. You really want to jump in the middle of this, Britches?” I barked, ready to march over to Cypress and slap the envelope he’d slipped inside my coat, distracting me by planting one on me to manage the feat, right into his cowlick overrun, fat head. How that equaled lying to me was a bit fuzzy, but it felt like a betrayal. Deceit. That’s what it was.
That no good- Kiss stealin’- Of all the- Damn him. Humiliation pinched at me. He’d only been kissing me so he could trick me and here I’d been all goopy puddled at his feet over it. God, I felt so stupid. Used. I’d kissed him back!
Cheeks pinkening as Birch gave me a look that said if I really wanted to try and get past him I could surely give it a go, I made to push past him and found myself blocked by a plaid flannel-ed boulder.
“Move,” I growled. I was in no mood to play games right now.
Birch’s lips tipped in amusement at my response. I was a frustrations induced growler and tensions were high. So sue me. It wasn’t funny.
Catching Cypress and Elm pausing their heated argument to turn their nosy faces our way long enough to spy our bickering from the corner of my eye, I thought turnabout was fair play.
“Fine. I can play dirty, too,” I muttered. Grabbing the sides of the black and white, Beetlejuice looking flannel Birch had mashed his massive arms into, my hands falling about waistlength on him, I leaned in as if I meant to go for it and smack one to Birch’s kisser.
Birch caught on quick. Instead of jerking back, ducking, any of the things I’d expected, he froze, lips parting, eyes bugging so wide they looked about to pop right out of his shocked mug, and a soft gurgling noise garbled from his thick lips.
Elm let out a garbled sputtering sound as I made as if I meant to make my move. Cypress barked something unintelligible, the closest to actual words any of the three of them had managed in the moment.
My lips lightly pressed to the end of Birch’s little snub tipped nose. He blinked, then blinked again, before letting out a soft, surprised— dare I say it, a relieved sounding— grunt.
Tucking the envelope into the front pocket of his flannel, I laughed, a gotcha grin on my face, gave his chest a there-there pat, and whirled around to run to my car.
Birch was still standing there, blinking stupidly, as I hurried to hop in, lock my doors, pull out, and take off.
Spying Elm and Cypress rushing Birch, I laughed out loud, the sound muffled through the music blaring through my car the second I’d turned the ignition over.
Cypress got one look at what was in Birch’s pocket, snatched it up to peek inside, and turned towards me as I made my escape to bare his teeth at my retreating vehicle. His snarl echoed in the trees just beyond the lot and then some. It sent a shiver down my spine and then came that warm, fluttery feeling in my stomach much like his kiss had produced. It shouldn’t. That was kinda weird, wasn’t it? It’s just the thrill of the moment, I told myself. A sick sort of thrill.
Elm’s laughter was loud, enough so to be heard over “Pork and Beans” blaring from my car.
“Not funny!” Cypress bellowed, his top officially popped. The temper on that guy. Yeesh. So easily riled and you never knew what was going to set it off. And yet I grinned.
Turning my music down as I pulled around front and out towards the street, rolling my window down enough to wave at Forest as he closed up the front of their store. I’d swear the male smiled as he glanced in the direction of Cypress’ caterwauling and Elm and Birch’s ribbings to follow, then back my way, and waved.
“Thanks, Mr. Tree! Have a Happy Thanksgiving!”
In the rearview, I was a thousand percent sure Mr. Tree was grinning, a peek of white teeth flashing sticking out amongst all that deep, chocolatey brown beard and wild facial hair, as Elm and Cypress ran to the front as if to catch me at hearing my voice, Birch smilingly tailing them.
Cypress’ fit of pique as he cursed wildly, arms flailing in his annoyance, waving at Elm, his father, then Birch, throwing blame about everywhere, quickly faded into the distance as I hit the gas.
“Thwarted. Ha!” My face hurt, I was smiling so wide.
So much like old times… it kinda tripped me out.
Just as quickly, that pleased curve of my lips faded.
A pinch of guilt overshadowed the moment, that I shouldn’t be laughing and smiling like this, like the last year hasn’t been the worst year of my life.
