Holidate

by Monica Murphy

  I’m hauling one of the extra-heavy signs out of the shed when I notice there’s an unfamiliar car parked in the lot. The lights are off, but I swear I see the glow from a phone screen illuminating a face.

  A rather familiar, feminine face.

  Stopping, I drop the sign and rest my hands on my hips, squinting in the darkness like that’s going to help me see. Though the more I stare at the car, the more I realize that I do recognize it.

  I’ve been in that car. It’s a Mercedes.

  And that Mercedes belongs to Candice Gaines.

  Why the hell is Candice sitting inside her fancy Mercedes, checking her phone and…what? Waiting for me?

  This is the last thing I need. I’ll give the woman credit, she’s damn persistent. But I don’t want to deal with her. She’s too pretty, too bossy, and I’m too attracted to her.

  Yes. I can admit it. I’m attracted to Candice Gaines. But I don’t need the trouble. I need to focus on my job. It’s the busiest time of the year and here I am letting a woman distract me? I don’t do that.

  I never have.

  In fact, the more I think about Candice trying to work me over, the angrier I get.

  Fury fueling me, I march over to her vehicle, testing the passenger-side door. Of course, it opens easily and I slip inside her car like an agile cat, making her scream.

  “You scared me!” Her eyes are wide, her hand is resting against her chest, which is rising and falling rapidly. It’s earlier than any normal human should be awake, yet Candice looks gorgeous. Her hair is down, hanging past her shoulders in luxurious waves. Her brown eyes are wide, her pursed lips slicked with red gloss that matches her nails, which matches the bright red coat she’s wearing.

  “You scared me,” I retort, slamming the car door and settling in. At least it’s nice and warm inside her Mercedes. And it smells good. Like her. “What the hell are you doing here so early?”

  “I-I wanted to talk to you.” She sends me a look I can’t decipher, her teeth sinking into the juicy plumpness that is her lower lip. “I feel bad, what happened between us Tuesday night.”

  “I don’t have time to listen to you go on and on about your feelings,” I bite out, already reaching for the door handle. If she’d led with an apology, I might’ve considered what she had to say.

  But I don’t really care to hear how her bad behavior made her feel bad. That’ll just make her sound like a sniveling brat, and I don’t need any more reasons to dislike her.

  “I brought you a peace offering,” she continues, like she didn’t hear a word I just said. Which is probably the truth. “Here.”

  She holds out a to-go cup that’s got a bunch of writing on it. “What is it?”

  “Take a sip.” She lifts the cup, like she’s about to say cheers and wants us to clink glasses.

  I stare at the cup, for some reason nervous to take it. “Are you trying to poison me?”

  Candice laughs, and the sound makes my stomach flip. Or maybe that was just a hunger pain. I forgot to eat breakfast. Didn’t have time. “I would never try to poison you, Charles. If you died, what would happen to Christmas?”

  “There’d be no trees,” I say, taking the cup from her. I check out the writing, realizing that it’s an actual message written in black Sharpie.

  To me.

  * * *

  Charlie!

  Charlie, she’s sorry!

  Candice would appreciate it a-latte

  If you accepted her apology!

  * * *

  My lips curve in a barely there smile, and I swear she spots it. I can feel the hope radiating from her already. Immediately I frown. “Did you write this?”

  “No, my friend Stella did. She’s the same one who makes the delicious gingerbread lattes,” she says enticingly.

  Gingerbread latte? I should’ve known, with the latte mention in the poem.

  “Are you trying to bribe me with my new favorite drink?” I glance down at the cup, my taste buds already anticipating the deliciousness.

  She lowers her head a little, those gorgeous brown eyes making contact with mine. “Is it working?”

  I take a sip. It’s the perfect temperature, and it tastes fucking delicious. “You’re on the right track.”

  She blinks at me, all solemn quietness while I continue to drink my coffee. It’s way better than that crap I made earlier when I first woke up. And it’s better than any of the drinks I’ve had at Starbucks.

  “I’m so sorry, Charles,” she finally says, remorse lacing her sweet voice. “I should’ve never talked about you like that with my friends, and I feel terrible. I just—I wasn’t thinking. Sarah was just blabbing away, and she had no idea you were sitting there listening to her. I knew you were angry, but you took off so fast and refused to take my calls or texts. This was the only way I could get your attention.”

  Her words—her apology—means a lot. “You’re always trying to get my attention, huh?” I didn’t even realize it. I’m always so caught up in my own little world, rarely do I venture out of it.

  Candice is trying her damnedest to capture my attention, push my boundaries, and help me see there’s other things happening around me, stuff that matters. I can grudgingly appreciate her for that.

  She smiles faintly. “I am.”

  I sip my drink. Shoot her contemplative looks. Take my time while I keep thinking. Regular me would tell her she can go to hell and then I’d never have to see her again.

  Or I could also immediately forgive her and pretend what she said never happened.

  “Well? Do you have anything to say?” she asks, sounding completely frazzled.

  It’s probably wrong to admit, but it feels good, ruffling her feathers. I think I do it more often that I realize. “This is a damn good latte.”

  She exhales loudly, irritation written all over her pretty face. “Stella makes excellent drinks.”

  “I need to go there more often.”

  “You do.” She nods.

  “Hard, though, when my tree farm is so far from downtown Carmel.”

  “True, but if you made the time, you could probably make it work.” The way she’s looking at me, I’d guess she means those words in regards to lots of things.

  Like my entire life.

  “Problem is I need to make a lot of time for a variety of things.” Does she realize I’m agreeing with her? “For instance, two things are happening tonight.”

  Candice goes quiet, her gaze meeting mine. “The tree lightings at Cannery Row and downtown Monterey?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows my social schedule by heart. Probably because she’s the one who planned it.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to manage it.”

  “I can help you!” she says brightly. “Both events use Sullivan trees, so it would go a long way, making an appearance at each of them. They’re tightly scheduled, but you can still make it happen, especially with the locations being so close together.”

  She’s practically vibrating with excitement, and I can’t help but smile.

  Then I remember I’m supposed to be a grump, so I scowl at her instead.

  “It’s my busiest day of the year,” I remind her, taking yet another sip. I can’t stop drinking this stuff. Maybe her friend laces it with crack to get us addicted. “I will be going all. Day. Long. That’s why I’m here at the ass crack of dawn.”

  The face she makes over what I said almost makes me laugh. “We can make it work, Charlie. If you let me help you.” She hesitates, her expression solemn. Those big brown eyes blink up at me, and I can feel myself getting lost in them. “Will you let me help you?”

  Thirteen

  Candice

  His dour expression makes me think he’s going to say no. He appears so unsure, so full of doubt. Over me. I hate that I’ve lost his trust. That he now thinks I’m a typical mean girl who sits around with my friends and laughs at him.

  I swear I’m not that person. I wish he would believe me.

&n
bsp; “I’ll let you help me,” he finally says, and overwhelming relief swarms over me, making my shoulders sag. “But it’s going to be a busy day, Candice. Like, out of control busy. Normally on Black Friday, I don’t even leave the farm until around nine.”

  “But you can’t do that. Not today. That’s way too late.” I grab my phone and check my calendar app, looking at the times of both lighting ceremonies. “You’ll need to be finished by five at the absolute latest, and that’s cutting it close.”

  “I’ll try. No guarantees, though,” he says as he takes another drink of his latte. It warms my heart, that he enjoys it so much. That I made him happy. “Should we meet at the first tree lighting?”

  “No way.” I shake my head. He might never show up if we do that. I need to take control of this situation. “I’ll meet you here. At four-thirty.”

  He makes a face. “That’s too early.”

  “No, it’s really not. Four-thirty. We have to be in my car and leaving here by five. No later. Do you understand?” Oooh, boy, don’t I sound firm? Kind of like him. Nerves eat at me, but I shove them aside. Leaving here at five is already cutting it extra close. But I will drive like a demon from hell to get him to that lighting ceremony on time if it’s the last thing I do.

  “You’re very pushy when you want to be,” he grumbles.

  “Same goes for you,” I tell him. “Though you’re always pushy, so I guess that’s no surprise.”

  He smiles, looking very pleased with himself, and the sight of his pretty smile does something weird to my heart. Like, twists it all up and makes it ache in the best way. “I think you like it when I’m pushy.”

  Oh my God, he’s figured me out. But how? “Why do you say that?” I ask cautiously.

  “Why else would you keep coming around, trying to help me? I think you have a crush on me, Gaines.” Reaching out, he taps his index finger on the tip of my nose, then thrusts the now empty to-go cup of coffee in my face. “Thanks again for the latte. Better watch it—I might want you to make this a habit.”

  Before I can say anything in response, before I can gather my scattered-to-the-wind thoughts, he’s climbing out of the car, slamming the door extra hard, sending the car into a full-blown shudder. I watch as he walks away, my gaze locked on his perfect butt, admiring the way his jeans fit just so. Those long strides. That wild tangle of hair.

  Sighing, I start the car and back out of my spot, peeling out of the dirt parking lot, leaving a cloud of dust behind. My driving probably pissed Charlie off.

  Oh well. Let him be angry. I sort of don’t care.

  But the giddiness gets to me within a couple miles of me being on the road. I’m back in Charlie’s good graces. He actually requested my help tonight. We’re going to spend time together this evening. He even accused me of having a crush on him—spoiler alert, I’m pretty sure he’s correct—and he tapped me on the nose.

  I know the nose tap doesn’t feel like a major moment, but OMG it so was. He purposely touched me in a flirtatious manner. It starts with a nose tap, and it could turn into something more.

  I’m being serious! It so could.

  Deciding I need to look extra good when I return to pick him up, my foot presses eagerly on the gas pedal. I only have a few hours and I need to use every single one of them to ensure my outfit is on point.

  I pull into the Sullivan Tree Farm parking lot at four-thirty on the dot, and Charlie is nowhere to be found.

  Figures.

  The lot is half filled with cars, and when I climb out of my own, I watch a family of four pass me, followed by a Sullivan employee hauling their beautiful, freshly cut tree propped onto a shiny red wire wagon that is shaped perfectly to carry it. The little boy—he looks about three—is skipping/running and chattering about the tree nonstop, his mother gently scolding him to watch out for cars as they walk by.

  My Christmas-loving heart warms at seeing this.

  Actually my Christmas-loving heart can barely contain itself as I watch the open tree farm in action. Christmas music plays from overhead speakers, some jazzy version of “Jingle Bells”. It’s been cloudy all day, and the lights strung everywhere blink and shine in the rapidly growing darkness. The giant white pegboard that was covered with a variety of wreaths for sale when I saw it earlier this morning now stands half empty. And in the distance, I see the store’s double doors propped open, with plenty of people milling inside.

  Charlie wasn’t wrong. It’s super busy. I can practically smell all the money they’re currently making.

  Or maybe I’m confused and that’s the pine trees I’m smelling.

  “Hey, Dolores.”

  I turn to find Isaac Jones smiling at me. “You know that’s not my real name, Jonesie.”

  He rests a hand against his chest. “And I think you know I kind of hate that nickname, Dolores.”

  We laugh and I shake my head. “Looks busy here today.”

  “It’s been busy. A good busy, though.” He holds out his hands, every one of his fingers dark. “I hate it when I get sap on my fingers.”

  I make a face. “Don’t you use gloves?”

  “Sometimes.” He shrugs. “And sometimes they get in the way and it’s easier to use my bare hands.”

  “How do you remove the sap?”

  “Cooking oil mostly does the trick. Or peanut butter, though I’m not a fan of using it. I tried toothpaste once. It worked, but only so-so,” Isaac says.

  “That sounds messy.” I wrinkle my nose.

  “It is.” He stands up straighter. “I’m guessing you’re looking for the boss.”

  “I am. Where is Charles anyway?” I look around, but of course I don’t spot his familiar, tall frame.

  Isaac chuckles. “I’ll call him on the radio.”

  Not wanting to overhear Charlie cursing over my arrival, I touch Isaac’s arm and say, “Tell him to meet me in the store.”

  “Will do. See you around, Miss Candice.” He tugs on the brim of his ballcap and walks away, the crackle of the walkie-talkie sounding as he asks for Charlie to respond.

  I make my way to the store, glancing at my phone to see what time it is. Four thirty-five. I gave myself a half hour to gather Charlie up and get us out of here because I knew 1) Charlie wouldn’t be easy to find; and 2) he definitely wouldn’t be ready to go.

  He’ll need to change. I’m sure of it. Probably needs a shower as well, but I don’t know how we’re going to make that happen. He’s been up and at it since God knows when, and he’s the type to get thoroughly dirty and not even realize it. Does he keep extra clothes here to change into? I have no idea. Something I should’ve thought of before I left.

  Entering the store, I breathe in deep the delicious cranberry candle smell and start to explore, already wishing I had more time. Right away I’ve already spotted two things I wouldn’t mind purchasing and, giving in to my urges, I grab them both. One is a beautiful white reindeer tabletop decoration with a green pine wreath around his neck that I know my stepmother would love to put on the dining room table. The other item is a sparkly iridescent snowflake I can imagine hanging in my bedroom window. The stones would catch the sunlight just so, casting my room with beads of light in the afternoon.

  I’ve only been there for a few minutes, searching through all the pretty stuff, when I feel Charlie’s presence. Funny, how I don’t have to see him, yet I know he’s here. The air changes when we’re in the same room together, and I know that sounds like a bunch of mystical silliness, but I swear it’s true.

  In fact, I can feel him drawing closer, and I hold my breath, waiting for that moment when he’ll say my name. Or, I don’t know, actually reach out and touch me.

  “Dolores. So glad you made it.”

  I can barely contain my smile when I turn around. But my smile fades as I take him in. “Oh, Charlie, you look…”

  “Tired? Beat up? Like absolute ass?” He chuckles, but there’s no humor in the sound. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “Everything l
ooks great outside. It’s still very busy.” I didn’t expect him to appear so exhausted. There are dark circles under his faintly bloodshot eyes, there’s a scratch on his cheek and another one on his nose. “What happened to you?” Without thought I reach out, drifting my finger across the scratch on his face, dropping my hand immediately so he doesn’t think I’m, I don’t know, yearning to touch him.

  Though I am. Yearning to touch him.

  The wound looks fresh, there’s still bits of dried blood clinging to his skin. I hope it isn’t too deep.

  “Got into a fight with a tree. The tree won.” He sniffs, glancing around the room before his gaze returns to the items I’m clutching. “You want to buy that stuff?”

  I nod. “I want to buy more, but I don’t have time.”

  “Victoria’s going to love you. Come on.” He waves his hand for me to follow him and I do, confused when we walk straight past the register counter—where there’s a line and a woman around my age who vaguely resembles Charlie—and start down a short hall.

  “Where are we going?” I ask him, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

  “My office.”

  “But I need to pay for my things.”

  He pauses at a closed door, pulling out a key ring and unlocking the door before he pushes inside. I follow after him, blinking when he switches the lights on. “Remove the price tags and I’ll have Victoria ring them up for me later.”

  I set my things on his desk while he collapses into his chair. “I want to pay for them, not you, Charlie.”

  “You can pay me back.” He leans back and closes his eyes. I take the opportunity to greedily drink him in, noting how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, the deep sigh of exhaustion that leaves him. “I’m fucking tired.”

  I don’t even flinch at the curse word. “Have you cleaned that wound yet?”

  “Nope.” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes. “You want to play nurse with me?”

  I do. I so do.