by Linda Seed
“Delilah? Are you there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“Enjoy, is all I’m saying,” Roxanne went on. “And see if you can send me a picture. If he’s as hot as you say, I’ve got to see him.”
Quinn texted Delilah the afternoon following their Hospitality Night date.
What are you doing tomorrow?
He was busy today—he’d led a hike in the morning and had another one in an hour—but tomorrow was all clear, and the only thing he wanted to do with that free time was spend it with Delilah.
When she didn’t answer immediately, he tried to focus on other things. He’d finished the furniture website and was waiting for the client’s comments and change requests, so he worked a little on his own websites, both the one that advertised his wilderness adventures and the one offering his web design services.
He was just updating the price list for his hiking trips—time to bring his rate up a little—when his phone pinged with Delilah’s response.
I have to put up a Christmas tree.
Three dots bounced around, indicating that she was typing.
My mother thinks I’m giving my sons a crappy Christmas, so I have to get a tree and lights and ornaments.
Quinn sensed some angst there, so he abandoned the texting and called her.
“Hey,” she said when she picked up.
“Hey yourself.”
He’d been right about the angst. She started unloading it right away.
“Do you know that I actually hadn’t thought about getting a tree until my mother mentioned it? I’m a horrible mother. Of course the boys need a tree. It’s just, with the divorce, and selling the house, and everything we’re going through, it seemed like the last thing in the world I wanted to worry about. But it’s Christmas! And we’re here, and I have to make it as nice for them as I can. God. I don’t have anything. A stand, a tree skirt. I need everything.”
“What’s a tree skirt?”
“It’s the cloth you put over the tree stand so it’s not visible.”
“Ah. We always used a bedsheet for that.”
“Right. Okay. That would work.”
He’d clearly caught her when she was already worked up about it. This seemed like a good opportunity to make himself indispensable.
“Tell you what—I’ll help.”
She was silent for a second, either in hope or dismay. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” He leaned back in his desk chair and switched the phone to his other ear. “I don’t have anything going tomorrow, and besides, have you ever tried to put a tree in a tree stand by yourself? It can’t be done.”
“That’s—”
“It’ll be fun,” he said, interrupting her before she could say no. “We’ll play Christmas carols and make hot chocolate. The boys will love it.”
So will I, he thought but didn’t say.
“Okay. That’s really nice of you. I could use the help.”
He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself.
“No problem. Is ten a.m. too early?”
Chapter 20
The boys had been happy when Delilah told them they would be getting a Christmas tree. But that was nothing compared to their reaction when she told them Quinn would be helping them.
“Quinn’s coming?” Jesse’s eyes widened, and his face held an expression of hopeful expectation, as though what he’d just heard might actually be a miracle.
“Yes, he is. He’s going to help us pick out a tree and ornaments and all the things we need, and then he’s going to help us put it up.”
Gavin, usually less verbal than his brother, jumped up and down on his toes and started listing the things they’d need.
“We have to get a tree, and lights, and a star for the top like the one at Gramma’s house. And that shiny stringy stuff.”
“Tinsel?” Delilah tried.
Gavin nodded vigorously.
“I want a really tall one!” Jesse said. “Like, really tall. Tyler’s dad had to cut a piece off the top of their tree last year because it touched the ceiling.”
Apparently it was important for him to best Tyler, his closest friend from home.
“We’ll see,” Delilah said, beginning to feel the infectiousness of her sons’ enthusiasm. “You know what else? Quinn thinks we need hot cocoa.”
“Yeah! With marshmallows!” Jesse said.
Gavin nodded. Then his face fell, his expression filled with concern.
“Gavin? Honey, what is it?”
“How is Santa going to know we’re here instead of at home?”
Delilah crouched down to his eye level. “Remember when you talked to Santa last night?”
Gavin nodded.
“Well, I gave a note to one of his elves with our temporary address on it. He knows we’re here, honey. And Otter Bluff has a nice, big chimney for him to use, so I think we’re all set.”
Delilah had expected to buy a pre-cut tree, probably at one of those roadside stands that popped up every year right after Thanksgiving. But Quinn showed up at Otter Bluff in full man-in-charge mode, insisting that the only proper way to obtain a Christmas tree was to choose a living pine and cut it down like Paul Bunyan.
“You want us to cut down a tree,” Delilah said, giving him a significant amount of side-eye.
“Not us, per se. All you and the boys have to do is choose one. I’ll cut it down.”
“Because my womanly arms are too weak to hold a saw?” She awaited his response with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows high.
“Yeah, now that you mention it.” He made a show of inspecting Delilah’s biceps, poking first one and then the other with his finger. “Maybe when it’s time to trim some of the scrawny little branches.”
Jesse and Gavin giggled.
“Yeah, Mom,” Jesse said. “Cutting down trees isn’t for girls.”
“Plus, I might ruin my manicure,” Delilah put in. She didn’t, currently, have a manicure, but it seemed like the right thing to say to play her part in this little bit of theater.
“I’m glad that’s settled. There’s a tree farm in Atascadero,” Quinn said. “Once you’ve cut your own, you’ll never go back to those sad, pre-cut, poor excuses for trees that drop their needles two weeks before Christmas. But first, we have to stop by the hardware store.”
“For an ax?” Jesse asked.
“For a proper tree stand. The ones they sell at the tree farm are complete crap.”
As they visited first the hardware store and then a variety of local shops looking for lights, ornaments, and other tree essentials, Delilah found herself amused at how seriously Quinn was taking the whole endeavor.
Not only had he insisted on a particular kind of tree stand, he’d also frowned in concentration looking at extension cords and strings of lights, enumerating the relative pros and cons of each type.
“You don’t want this one.” Quinn examined a set of tiny white lights that Gavin had handed him at the True Value in Cambria. “These are incandescent. You want LED.”
“We do?” Gavin asked.
“Sure. They save energy, plus they don’t get hot, so they’re less of a safety hazard.” He examined the boxes of lights on the shelf, then plucked one from the display. “See? This one costs a little more, but you’ll save it in energy costs.” He handed the box to Gavin, who peered at it intently as though he could read the information on the package.
“You’re really putting a lot of thought into this,” Delilah said.
“If something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. Don’t you think so, Jesse?”
“Yeah! Can we get colored lights instead of white, though?”
Quinn, reasonably enough, had insisted that they buy all of the ornaments, lights, and other supplies first, before getting the tree. It would be awkward driving all over town with a tree tied to the roof, for one thing, and besides, you wanted to get the tree into some water as soon as possible, he’d explained to the B
allards.
So, it was midafternoon before they got to the tree farm. The boys had been dragging a little from all of the stops, but they both perked up as they walked amid rows of trees, inspecting each of them to find the best one.
“How about this one?” Gavin pointed to a nicely shaped Douglas Fir.
Quinn examined the tree thoughtfully. “It’s a good one, all right. Nice and symmetrical, with good needle coverage. But it’s only five feet tall. Otter Bluff has, what, eight-foot ceilings?” He looked to Delilah for confirmation.
“That seems right,” she said.
“Then we’re gonna need a seven-foot tree.”
“Yeah, Gavin,” Jesse said, as though he’d known that all along.
Under most circumstances, Delilah would have been irritated by the way Quinn had asserted himself as leader of the expedition. She should have been irked after his remarks about her weak biceps. Somehow, though, she found it cute as hell.
All those years she’d been married to Mitch, she would have welcomed the occasional moment when he took it upon himself to handle things so she wouldn’t have to. But that rarely happened, because he was always too busy with work. Or, as it turned out, with other women.
How do you think we’re going to pay for all of the things you and the boys want? He’d asked that question more times than she could count. As though she was the one who’d wanted an oversized house in a rich neighborhood. As though she was the one who’d wanted the designer clothes he’d insisted she wear. As though she’d wanted anything other than a happy, well-adjusted family—the one thing he’d never managed to provide.
She’d never had this: a man taking charge of her family’s good time. And now that she did, if only for a day, she decided to just sit back and enjoy it.
“How about this one?” She pointed to a big Scotch pine.
Quinn was aware that he was being pushy. He was aware that he was maybe being a little sexist. But he couldn’t seem to help himself—not because he actually was sexist, but because he’d thought he wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas, and his enthusiasm was getting the better of him.
When they were driving back to Cambria with the tree tied to the roof of Delilah’s car, he glanced at her, trying to gauge her mood.
“You know … the thing about you being weak with scrawny biceps …”
“What about it?”
“I was just kidding. I don’t really think you’re a pathetic weakling who can’t cut down a tree.” As he said it, he reflected that it hadn’t come out right and he was probably making things worse.
“Well, that’s good to know.” The whisper of a smile on her face either meant she was amused or she was feigning amusement to hide her inner rage.
After the excitement of the day, the boys had both fallen asleep in the back of the car, so they both kept their voices low to avoid being overheard.
“I was playing up my manly prowess for the boys.”
“Right.”
“You get it.”
“Sure.” She gave him that hint of a grin again. “Of course, one could say that modeling sexism for the boys isn’t optimal. Especially when they have a woman as the head of the family.”
Shit, she was right. Now he felt like an idiot. He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Ah, man. You’ve got a point. A good one. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He glanced at her from his place in the passenger seat. “Are you saying don’t worry about it because I really shouldn’t worry about it? Or because you’re pissed and you’ve written me off entirely, so there’s no point in worrying about it since we’ll never see each other after today?”
She let out a laugh. “You’ve got a whole drama playing out in your head, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” He shifted in his seat to face her. “I just … Christmas hasn’t been a thing for me for a couple of years. I guess I got overly excited. Maybe a little bit carried away.”
“Why hasn’t Christmas been a thing?”
Of course she had to ask that. He’d left himself wide open.
He shrugged. “Family problems. You know.”
She shot him a brief look as she drove. “I know family problems in general, sure. But I don’t know yours specifically. What’s going on there?”
He shrugged again, feeling uncomfortable and wishing he could rewind the conversation by a few minutes so they wouldn’t have to go down this particular rabbit hole.
“I don’t get along with my brothers, that’s all. We had a falling-out. And my mom and stepdad took their side, so …” He left it at that, hoping like hell she would let it drop.
Instead of prying, she sympathized, which was almost worse.
“That must be really hard,” she said, her voice soft.
The way she said it made him want to lay his head in her lap while she stroked his hair. Maybe later, after the kids were in bed.
“It is. It is hard,” he said.
“And you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Not really, no. I’m having a nice time, and if I start talking about all of that, I won’t be having a nice time anymore.”
“I get that.” She drove for a moment in silence. Then she said, “I do think we need to address an important topic, though, whether you want to or not.”
“What’s that?”
“Hot cocoa—marshmallows or whipped cream?”
He grinned, feeling the relief of it. “Whipped cream, obviously. It has so many other uses.”
The way she blushed, he knew she was imagining exactly what some of those uses might be.
Chapter 21
The rest of the day was a flurry of holiday-related activities as they put up the tree, strung the lights, and hung the ornaments, all while Christmas music played on the Otter Bluff sound system.
When they were done, Delilah fulfilled her promise of hot cocoa, serving steaming mugs to the boys and to Quinn.
She plopped down onto the sofa with her own mug, feeling exhausted but happy.
“This living room is a train wreck,” she said, looking over the piles of empty packaging from the lights and the ornaments. Fallen pine needles were scattered beneath the layer of debris. “A really bad one. With casualties.”
With a sigh, she put her mug on the coffee table and started to get up to attack the mess. Quinn caught her arm. “Don’t worry about it right now. We can deal with it later. The boys and I will help. Right, Jesse? Gavin?”
Gavin nodded gamely, but Jesse complained.
“Aww. Do we have to?”
“After everything your mom went through today to make you guys happy, I think it’s the least we can do,” Quinn said.
“Okay.” Jesse said it as though he were agreeing to something he knew he’d regret.
“There,” Quinn said. “We’ll all do it together, but not yet. Enjoy your cocoa.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Delilah sat back down on the sofa, took up her mug, and enjoyed a warm, chocolaty sip. The tree really did look good. Tiny colored lights sparkled amid the branches, and a wildly eclectic assortment of ornaments gave the tree a look of riotous festivity.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on the television, and Jesse and Gavin watched intently as Quinn and Delilah relaxed.
“You want to step out on the patio and enjoy the view?” Quinn asked. Something in his voice said he was interested in more than just watching the waves.
“Sure.”
They took their empty mugs into the kitchen, left the boys in front of the movie, and stepped onto the back patio, closing the sliding glass door behind them.
It was getting late—dinner and the usual evening rituals were behind them—and the sky was dark, with just the moonlight reflecting on the water.
“Come here.” Quinn took Delilah’s hand and stepped over to a part of the patio where they couldn’t be seen from the living room, drawing her along with him. When they had privacy, he pulled her into his arms and kissed
her.
Delilah sank into him, molding herself against him as she savored the warmth of his body and the taste of his mouth.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, still holding her against him. “Maybe after the kids are in bed, we can slip into your room and—”
She put her palms flat against his chest and pushed against him playfully. “Quinn, we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What if they hear us?”
“We’ll be quiet.”
“What if one of them comes in?”
“We’ll lock the door.”
Her eyebrows rose as she considered him. “What are we going to tell them when they see you in the morning?”
“I’ll climb out the window at dawn. I’m not above that sort of thing. And it wouldn’t be unprecedented.”
“I’ll bet.”
Part of Delilah wanted to give in and let it happen. They’d had such a lovely day. Was it so wrong that she wanted to keep that loveliness going and take it to new levels?
But she couldn’t let the boys know that she and Quinn were romantically involved. It was one thing to let them spend time with Quinn as a friend, with the understanding that they would go home in January, leaving him behind.
It was entirely another to get their hopes up that Quinn might be a permanent part of their lives, just to devastate them when it ended.
Because things always ended, even if you were promised they wouldn’t. Even if you were promised a lifetime. Nothing was forever—she’d learned that the hard way.
Even though she couldn’t risk that, she could risk another kiss. She raised onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his, and he held her and caressed her tongue with his.
“I had a good time. Thank you.” She laid her cheek against his chest.
“Ah. I guess that means I’m going.”
“I guess it does. But don’t go without saying goodbye to the boys.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
