Jonah tidied up the kitchen and washed the dishes while I got dressed in the bathroom and quickly blow-dried my hair. I didn’t bother with it for most of the year – my waves dried nicer in the air and I wore it up for work most of the time anyway – but in winter, going outside with a head full of wet hair was a surefire way to get a chill. Jonah looked me up and down as I emerged, nodding his approval. I was wearing fleece-lined, outdoor leggings, with a black vest on top, warm sweater and my Patagonia parka. It was a lovely, thick, long one, which reached down to my mid-thigh for extra warmth. I felt a bit like a marshmallow in it, but at least I’d be warm.
‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘As cute as the reindeer pajamas were, we wouldn’t want a hunter to mistake you for a real one in the wild.’
‘Why would we be anywhere near hunters?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘Jonah.’
‘It’s OK.’ He paused from wiping the bench to give me a reassuring smile. ‘I’d never take you anywhere or do anything to put you in harm’s way, I promise.’
I felt my heart stop when he smiled at me like that, his words washing over me like a warm blanket. I didn’t need protecting, but he made me feel safe all the same.
He rinsed the cloth and draped it over the tap to dry, taking a step back to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He hadn’t. The kitchen looked exactly the same as it had before he’d cooked us the delicious breakfast.
‘Thanks for breakfast, and for cleaning up.’
‘You’re welcome. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere and relax if the dishes weren’t done.’
‘You felt correctly.’
‘Ready?’
I nodded. ‘Almost. Just need to get my sneakers on.’
After lacing up my faithful black and white Nike shoes, I found my keys and wallet and tucked them into one of my pockets, zipping it up to make sure they didn’t fall out, then nodded. At the last second, I grabbed my hat and scarf from the hook by the door. ‘Is there anything else I need to bring on our mystery adventure?’
‘No.’
‘Then yes, I’m ready.’
Outside, he reached for my hand to help me down the porch steps.
‘Careful,’ he said. ‘The steps are slippery.’
I didn’t have the heart to point out that I’d managed the steps perfectly fine all by myself the last few days, mostly because I liked how his hand felt around mine. His touch made my stomach flutter, and I felt like a giddy teenager again. He led me over to his truck and opened the passenger door for me with a flourish.
‘You really do take this gentlemanly stuff quite seriously, don’t you?’ I commented, as I climbed inside and he passed me my seatbelt.
‘I’m not making any more effort than every man should make for a woman. Buckle up.’
I gave him a salute. ‘Yes, sir.’
He winked. ‘Ooh, I like it when you call me that.’
Even though I’d done a fair bit of travelling around Pine Harbor over the last few days, visiting five different households and patients, I hadn’t taken in much of the view because I’d been concentrating so hard on driving on the snowy roads and following directions. While Jonah drove, I stared out the passenger window, feeling more and more like I really was in a holiday movie. The streets were freshly ploughed, with piles of crisp, white snow on the sides of the road around the lampposts and trees. The harbor, when we drove past it, was still and calm today, the water mirroring the snowy pines that lined the hills around town. The surface of the water ripped gently. A large sailboat was moored just offshore, its sails packed away, its rigging tall and black against the colorless sky behind it. As we drove out of town the houses thinned out, the driveways becoming further and further apart.
‘Is that an actual, real-life Christmas tree farm?’ I squealed, craning to look back over my shoulder out the rear window after passing a sign that said ‘Welcome to Merry Mistletoe Christmas Farm’.
He nodded. ‘It sure is. It’s owned by a friend of mine, Lucas. He’s Norwegian, but has been here in the States for a few years now.’ He craned to look out the window and whistled. ‘That parking lot is pretty full. He’ll be looking forward to putting his feet up in front of the fire in January, putting his phone on silent and taking a well-deserved break after the mayhem of December.’
‘I always thought that would be a dream job,’ I sighed wistfully.
He snorted. ‘Based on what? Hollywood movies?’
I sniffed defensively. ‘Maybe.’
‘It’s not quite as glamorous as they make out. I’ve listened to Lucas moan plenty of times over a beer, believe me. It’s isolated, hard, physical work, while exposed to the elements, and all your income comes in just one month of the year. The rest of the year it’s just money going out. And God forbid your trees get a disease that stunts their growth, or a fungal infection.’
