“She’s a little protective.”
“I can see that.” Pressing her hands to her abdomen, Monica shuddered. “Well, it’s been good seeing you, Rachel. Best of luck with the tree competition.”
“We don’t need luck!” Rachel found herself shouting when Monica moved to go. The woman didn’t turn back around.
“That’s all taken care of.” Holden’s voice breached Rachel’s attempt to call out for Monica a second time, and it was a thankful interruption. “Everything okay here?” An evaluating gaze swept the area.
“Just saw someone I knew from years ago.” Rachel regained her lost composure. “Did you say we’re all set?”
“Yep. I told them we didn’t need to bother with bundling or anything since I’m just going to toss it into the truck bed. Let’s get this thing home and decorated. What do you say?”
* * *
They had unloadedand settled the tree into its stand, right in the center of a wall of expansive windows. It was as though the previously empty space begged for a Christmas tree to be placed in the middle. Even the slope of the A-frame cabin mimicked the triangle taper of the evergreen.
Locating a tree skirt in the hall closet, along with a box labeledHoliday Decorationswritten in fat, black marker, they’d adorned the tree with glass baubles and beaded, wooden coils of cranberry-hued garland. And, as luck would have it, the strands of lights were all in working condition, nothing short of a Christmas miracle.
“I’m going to make a hot chocolate for myself. Can I get you anything?”
“What’s with you and hot chocolate?” Rachel moved to the couch and tucked her legs beneath her on the leather cushion, settling in.
She’d seen him order the specific drink multiple times at Bitter Cold and knew it had to be a favorite.
“What’s not to like? It’s a mug full of liquid chocolate, topped with gooey blobs of marshmallow sugar.”
“When you put it that way.” She released a laugh. “Sure, I’ll take one. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
She watched him gather the ingredients, moving about his kitchen as he hummed softly under his breath. They’d stripped out of their large jackets, which left him in a cream colored, cable-knit sweater paired with dark jeans. Goodness, he sure was handsome, that rugged mountain man physique exemplified in his strong stature. Rachel felt heat sweep through her before he even came over to pass off her mug of hot chocolate.
“You’ll want to let it cool down before you take a sip,” he instructed, finding his place next to her on the couch. “No burnt taste buds on my watch.”
She blew across the dark surface, pushing tendrils of steam across the mug, then took a sip. Hazarding a guess, she asked, “There’s a little something else in here, isn’t there?”
“A dash of chili powder and a pinch of sea salt.”
“Like the one they serve at Bitter Cold.”
“The very one.”
His look lingered over her face. It might have been from the drink in her hands, but a flush of warmth traveled up her neck.
“I had a lot of fun with you today,” he said.
“The fun’s not over, Buddy.” She gulped down another sip of the sweet drink. “That tree is only half-decorated. It’s not going to finish itself.”
“You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”
And where would that be? Back to her parents’ place, stewing over her mistletoe project? Or worse yet, losing herself and her mind in the Christmas tree competition?
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.”
The words were true and tumbled out more freely than she would have liked.
“You’ve mentioned a few times that you’re staying with your parents,” he said. “Any chance I know them?”
Rachel stilled. “Oh, I doubt it. They like to keep to themselves. Don’t get out much.”
