“We should probably cut down this tree before someone steals it from us.”
He frowned, peering around. “There’s no one else here.” With a shake of his head, Becken retrieved an axe and approached the pine tree. “Stand back. This might be unpredictable.”
“Can I try first?”
He looked from the enormous axe to me. “Can you even lift this, let alone swing it?”
I shrugged. “I want to try.”
He handed it over, his frown remaining locked on his face.
I hefted the axe that must weigh more than a golden retriever and wrangled it toward the tree. I tumbled through the snowalong with it, landing on my knees while the blade barely nicked the trunk. My laughter burst out. “This is so much fun!”
He shouldered his way past the snow-covered branches, helping me to my feet, his hands and voice incredibly gentle. “Let me do it. You’re going to get hurt.”
“This magical axe wouldn’t hurt me.”
“It would gut me to see you harmed.”
My breath froze in my lungs. “Are you just saying that or?—”
“I mean it, Carla. Please let me do it.”
I blinked up at him, hoping he’d say more, but when his mouth thinned, I backed away. The moment was lost. Feeling suddenly bereft, I plowed my way through the snow to a place where I could see but was out of the way.
He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a short-sleeved shirt beneath that clung to his body and showed off his bulging arm muscles.
Talk about swoon.
I watched him work, fascinated by his controlled power in each swing. I was mesmerized by the flex of his shoulders, the intensity on his face.
“Almost through,” he called out, moving around to the other side to work from that angle. “It’s going to fall into the clearing.”
He kept swinging the axe. The tree creaked, swayed, then crashed to the ground with a heavy thud that sent snow into the air. The scent of fresh pine filled my senses.
“We did it,” I shrieked, throwing my arms up in celebration. “We actually cut down a Christmas tree.”
He shrugged back into his coat and laid the axe on the ground near where Peeka stood waiting, rejoining me beside the tree.
“Time for refreshments,” I announced, needing something to do with my hands. Needing something that might bring back my holiday cheer.
I retrieved my bag and thermos from where we’d placed them on the ground and unpacked everything, then poured us mugs of steaming cocoa. The pottery mugs were beautiful, glazed in deep blue with silver accents that caught the light.
“Hail made these.” I handed Becken one of the mugs. “I thought they’d be perfect for today. I bought them in your aunt’s general store.”
“He does an incredible job. Have you seen Allie’s art? She’s planning a show soon.”
“It’s gorgeous.” I hoped to buy a piece before I left, though I was doing all I could to avoid thinking about leaving.
“I wanted today to be special.” I opened the bag of cookies, releasing the scents of cinnamon and vanilla. “Try one of these. Jessi taught me how to make them last night.”
Becken took a bite, his expression shifting to surprise. “These are wonderful.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I can follow a recipe.”
“I’m not shocked that you can cook. I’m impressed that you took the time to learn something new just for today.”
“I wanted the day to be perfect.”
