“Someone has to be, especially when you’re operating on Christmas magic and holiday enthusiasm.”
“Hey, Christmas magic is a perfectly valid operating principle.” I twisted in his arms to look back at him, which put our faces closer together. “When we find the right tree, you’ll feel it too.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Feel what?”
“The holiday magic,” I whispered, suddenly breathless.
We stared at each other, the air between us crackling with awareness. Then Peeka shifted beneath us, and I turned forward quickly, my cheeks burning.
The rest of the ride passed in charged silence.
We found our first candidate in a small clearing where several pine trees grew in formation. We slid off Peeka’s back, and I hurried over to circle the largest one, studying it from every angle.
“Too sparse on the left side,” I said. “It would look lopsided in the town square.”
Becken examined the tree with the same serious attention I’d given it. “The trunk’s straight. Good height. The branches look strong enough to hold decorations.”
“But look at this gap here.” I pointed to a bare spot near the middle. “And the top isn’t quite centered.”
“It’s a tree, not a sculpture.”
“It’sthetree. The centerpiece of our Christmas celebration.” I walked over to the next candidate. “This one’s better. See how full the branches are? And the proportions are exactly what we’re looking for.”
“The trunk has a slight curve.”
“That adds character. This one’s dignified but approachable. Stately without being intimidating. The kind of tree that makes children dream about Christmas morning.”
“You can tell all that from looking at it?”
“Obviously.” I grinned at him. “Don’t tell me orcs don’t believe trees have personalities.”
“In the orc kingdom, we judge trees by practical considerations. Height, wood density, whether they’ll provide adequate shelter or building materials.”
“How depressingly logical.”
“How successfully survival oriented.”
We moved around the clearing, debating the merits of each potential tree. Becken’s criteria focused on structural integrity and ease of transport. Mine centered on aesthetic appeal and Christmas spirit, which made him shake his head but didn’t stop him from listening to my reasoning.
“That one,” I said, stopping in front of a magnificent pine tree that stood slightly apart from the others. “That’s the one.”
Becken circled it, checking the trunk, testing the flexibility of the branches. “It’s larger than the others. It’ll be heavier to transport.”
“But look at it.” I spread my arms wide, gesturing at the tree’s perfect symmetry. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. The branches are full all the way around, the color is that perfect deep green, and the top looks like it was meant to wear a star.”
“It is well-formed,” he said.
“This is the tree that’s going to make children gasp when they see it lit up. This is the tree that’s going to make people stop and remember why they love Christmas.”
Something in my voice must have convinced him because he nodded. “This one, then.”
“Really?”
“You’re right. It’s perfect.”
The simple agreement sent heat rushing through me. “I knew you’d feel the Christmas magic eventually.”
“I feel something,” he said, but when I looked at him, his expression was unreadable.
