by Amanda Rose
A brilliant patchwork of color splashed through the distant mountains, the sun catching the snowy pines in a way that made it look like a Thomas Kincaid painting.
It was the beginning of December, and a light flurry was gently falling from the heavens, a stark contrast to the beaches I had just left behind. I've officially traded palm trees and waves for pines and ferns. Sandy dunes for rolling meadows.
My new life.
I heard the bus doors closing behind me, then the crunch of the stones as the wheels begin to move.
No turning back now.
Looking around I spotted the beat up blue truck that my uncle described parked on the curb. Swinging my duffel bag over my shoulder I began walking towards it, the sound of Christmas music floating softly through the air from the church across the street. It sounded like they were practicing for an upcoming pageant or something.
"Can I help you with that bag, Hon?" a deep voice said from directly behind me. The duffel dropped to the sidewalk as I let out a little screech of surprise. I've always been so easily startled. My sister used to hide around the house and leap out at me because she thought it was hilarious to watch me have a mini heart attack five times a day. Ugh.
Heart pounding, I stooped to retrieve my things. "It's okay, I don't need help with my own..." and the rest of my sentence was lost as I turned around to see this misguided gentleman helper.
Oh. My. God.
I’d expected a kindly middle-aged man perhaps, maybe a scruffy cowboy with dirty hands who couldn't believe a little lady like myself could muster the strength from her skinny arms to hoist a piece of luggage into a truck bed by herself. The man standing before me was not what I was expecting at all.
I looked up into coffee colored eyes. A modeling contract worthy face with high cheekbones, a strong jawline and dark hair in a messy carefree sort of cut. All of this on a six foot something body that was built for sin. Definitely not the middle aged hick I had imagined.
"Ummm..." I stuttered uselessly, trying to regain the confidence I had just a minute ago. I wasn’t usually this tongue tied when talking to men, but I wasn’t sure this guy should be classified with the average man. Unearthly beautiful male specimen? Ideal slice of man meat? Chief hottie? All of these words flew through my head as better descriptions for the chivalrous stranger standing before me with a proffered hand.
Clearing my throat, I tried to start over as he smiled patiently at me.
"I, uh, I can manage myself actually. It's just the one bag, and it’s not that heavy." I finally said, hoping it didn't come out too breathy or weird sounding.
"Well, if you say so sweetie," he chuckled, eyes sparkling as they roved over my body, taking in my snug fitting jeans and my burgundy sweater. He got caught up on the stiletto ankle booties with the fur cuffs that I wore. I knew they were a bit out of place for a rural Oregon farm town, but I was a city girl at heart, and even though I was starting a new life, I felt compelled to wear at least one article of clothing that reflected my usual style. I lived in heels and I just wasn't sure if I was ready to trade them in for work boots yet.
There was a moment of awkward silence while I waited for the sexy cowboy extraordinaire to get on his way, leaving lil' ole me waiting for my driver to come back to the truck. He’d be here soon enough, whisking me off to my uncle's Christmas tree farm where I would be learning the ropes this season.
Instead he calmly looked up from my shoes and walked slowly to the driver’s side door, opening it and getting in.
"Let me know when you're loaded up darlin', and we can get on our way." He called back in his deep, friendly voice.
There I stood, mouth agape as my mind tried to comprehend that he was my chauffeur.
Seriously uncle Mark? You sent a freaking God among men to pick me up and didn't even think to warn me? Ugh.
Doing my best to wipe the surprise from my face, I attempted to throw the bag into the truck bed. It was a big truck, and I hate to admit that I struggled a bit with the luggage, but dammit, I had said I didn't need help and I meant it! I am woman, hear me roar and all that. I wasn't going to start out on this farm having Mr. Sexypants over there telling everyone in town that I had the upper body strength of a third grader. That was my little secret for now.
This was gonna be an interesting ride...
CHAPTER TWO
It took more effort than I had anticipated to climb up into the cab. I was used to low riding sports cars and sleek sedans, not a behemoth of a vehicle with a lift on it. One of those jacked up things that people take "off roading" and "mudding". I saw a show about it once on Discovery channel. My ex used to love watching shows about these big manly truck events, even though he was an investment banker that drove a Mercedes. The luxury car was already a masculinity enhancer (which he desperately needed if I was being honest) but he still had to fill our DVR with programs about surly men running auto shops and country boys doing donuts in swampy fields. Neither of those being things that he could have done if his life depended on it.
The man who sat next to me as we drove along an increasingly winding mountain road seemed to be the real deal. A living breathing country boy who goes fishing and sets fence posts. The kind of guy that has a truck like this out of necessity, not novelty. I never thought I had a thing for guys like that, but as I sat there watching the scenery fly by I found myself wondering if the big truck meant he had a big—
"You're awfully quiet over there, hon," he said, snapping me out of my reverie with a start, "We never did get properly introduced, and my mama raised me better than that. I'm Jameson. Jameson Tyler. And as much as I’d love to keep calling you things like sweetheart and sugar, it would be an honor to know your actual name if you don't mind tellin' me?" He glanced away from the road to give me a panty melting smile.
Was it hot in here, or was that just him?
"Oh, I'm sorry," I choked out, "I was just a little… distracted. I'm Holly McCall. Although I'm sure you probably knew my last name already, seeing as how you work with my Uncle Mark." I tried my best to return the movie star smile he was still throwing my way, all while blushing furiously.
Get it together Holly. You're a grown ass woman. Stop acting like a simpering idiot.
He chuckled as he turned his full attention back to the road. "Holly, huh? A pretty appropriate name seeing as how you're here to help run your uncle's holiday empire. Almost like it was meant to be."
"It's not entirely coincidence actually," I replied, my voice finally coming back to me as I told the familiar anecdote. "I was born on a snowy Christmas eve. My mom said the name felt appropriate, seeing as how I was her very own Christmas gift from heaven or something. You know how moms are. Always with the sentimental stuff." I sighed. "It is a coincidence that my mom's brother ended up owning the biggest Christmas tree farm in the Northwest though. Maybe all the holiday hoopla inspired him or something, cause he started the farm the year after I was born. Although this is my first time visiting it."
"Well Miss Holly, I hope you enjoy your time here. I've been working on this farm with your Uncle for about ten years now and it's become a home to me."
He seemed so genuine when he said that, like this place meant so much to him. "And, what is it that you do here, Jameson, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I run the day to day operations of the farm." He replied with a touch of pride in his voice. "Take care of the business aspects, as well as help out with all the various chores and such. There's quite a lot to do here, Holly. We have a few year round workers that you'll meet. This is obviously the busiest time of the year though, and your being here should really help us out, I reckon. Lighten the load, so to speak." He winked at me.
Wait, was that a come on? I couldn't quite tell, so I decided to stay quiet. I did see him smiling mischievously out of the corner of my eye as Christmas music streamed softly from the radio. People around here really took the holidays seriously...
Just as the silence started to become uncomfortable agai
n, Jameson made a left turn onto what looked like a private drive and announced, "Welcome to McCall's Winter Wonderland."
The paved road turned into gravel beneath the tires, and suddenly the lane was lined on either side with a farm style wood fence that was entirely wrapped in twinkling colored lights. Their reflections danced on the snow drifts below them, illuminated in the growing darkness. Rustic hand painted signs began to appear on the trees, advertising things like "This way for the worlds best Christmas trees!" and "McCall's tree's make the holidays merry!" It was almost ridiculously cute.
I sat fascinated, taking in every detail as we continued up and up the winding road. How long was this driveway? When we rounded the last corner and the farm finally came into view my jaw literally dropped in surprise.
I had to be honest. My uncle—who I loved dearly, by the way—had only ever come to visit us down in Los Angeles. He and my mother had grown up together in Oregon, but when she met my dad she had left her life here behind for the fast paced city and a higher tax bracket. When Uncle Mark came to visit he was always so modest about his success. I had been picturing him living on a quaint little farm out in the middle of nowhere. Probably overlooking a modest field of evergreens. Boy, was I underestimating it.
A sprawling log cabin style house loomed on top of the hill, all lit up with winking white lights in a stunning display. There was a wrap around covered porch, and I counted three stories. A massive barn stood behind it that seemed as though it was recently built, and the whole thing looked out upon endless fields of every variety of Christmas trees as far as the eye could see.
The sun was just about to slip behind the treeline, and the whole scene had that magical twilight glow upon it. "Not what you were expecting?" Jameson asked, pulling the truck up towards the house.
"I..." was still a bit lost for words. "I guess not." I mumbled. “It's absolutely beautiful."
"Absolutely beautiful." He echoed softly, but when I glanced back towards him his rich brown eyes were focused on me, and not the scenery. And now I was blushing again.
When we rolled to a stop Jameson quickly came around to open my door for me. I took his outstretched hand and a tingle shot up my arm that had nothing to do with the excitement of my new luxurious surroundings. My heels hit the gravel and I stumbled a bit, only to find myself suddenly wrapped in his muscular arms.
"Oh.." I whispered, feeling his warmth surround me. Suddenly I forgot about everything else going on.
We stood there, frozen for a few seconds before he loosened his grip on my waist. "Be careful Hon. Even gravel can get icy around here."
I must be beet red right now, I thought to myself.
Without even asking me he went to the bed of the truck and retrieved my bag. I still sort of wanted to make a show of getting it on my own, but if I was being honest with myself I was a bit relieved. My knees felt a little weak at that moment.
Turning to face the log cabin style mansion I saw a familiar silhouette framed in the open double doors of the home.
"Is that my little Holly down there?" My uncle's voice shouted cheerily down to us. It kind of made sense that he made Christmas his business. He looked and sounded an awful lot like Old Saint Nick.
"Hi, Uncle Mark!" I called back, a wide smile spreading across my face. I freaking loved my uncle.
Carefully crossing the remaining expanse of driveway, I finally found sure footing on the steps of the porch. I was wrapped in another warm hug as Uncle Mark pulled me up the last few steps, the strong scent of sugar cookies wafting from inside the house making me realize how hungry I was.
"Come on in the house and out of the cold, sweetie, and we'll get you all settled in," He said in his comforting way, ushering me over the threshold and into a grand entryway. Antlers decorated the walls, and colorful ornaments dangled from each of them. A vaulted ceiling rose high above us and an impressive stairway led to the upper floors, the banisters wrapped in evergreen garland.
Jameson entered quietly behind us, and his sudden reappearance brought the flush back to my skin. I hoped they just assumed I was rosy from the chill in the air.
"Son, could you please bring Holly's things to her room so she can catch up with her Uncle for a bit?" uncle Mark asked kindly. Jameson nodded and smiled, moving towards the stairs. As he passed by me a could swear he threw another wink in my direction, making butterflies erupt in my already grumbling tummy.
That charming bastard.
CHAPTER THREE
A couple of hours later I had found myself tucked beneath an adorable hand sewn quilt, staring at the little snowmen that adorned it. My new room was cozy, the lamp bathing the wood paneled walls in a buttery light. I had unpacked my luggage and slipped into bed shortly after Uncle Mark and I had caught up sufficiently; over a hearty beef stew and those fragrant sugar cookies he had been thoughtful enough to set out for me. Jameson hadn't shown back up since he disappeared to drop my things off, and I thought that was probably for the best. I seemed to be even clumsier than usual around him, and I didn't need to keep falling into his arms.
Or did I kind of want to? Jameson. Despite being completely exhausted from my travels I was tossing and turning, trying to get his smile out of my mind. His smile, and the way his ass looked in those Levis....
I sighed heavily into my goose down pillow, turning over to see if a new position might help lull me to dreamland. New positions can help sometimes, new positions with handsome new men...Okay, seriously. I had to stop this train of thought or I was going to have some pretty X-rated dreams about my new coworker.
Maybe I was just obsessing because I hadn't had sex in months? Not since Clint and I broke up. Although it wasn't as if I was ever fully satisfied for the 3 years we were together either. That had to be it. I just had a lot of pent up sexual energy.
My silk pajamas slid against my skin as I readjusted myself. They were a new set I had gotten just before Clint and I split. A deep wine colored camisole and shorts number that really wasn't meant to be worn in bed alone. I guess I had been hoping they would be appreciated by someone special when I got them, but I never even got the chance to show him. He probably wouldn't have cared much anyway.
Wine. Now that might help me sleep. I slipped out from under the covers and quietly made my way down to the kitchen. There had been a few bottles of wine on the counter that I noticed earlier when Uncle Mark and I had our dinner in the modernized farmhouse style kitchen. I wasn't much for cooking, but damn, if I was this thing would have been a dream come true. Gleaming granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances that probably cost as much as the average car. He had told me to help myself to anything I needed, and I was assuming that would include a bedtime glass of Merlot.
The house was dark and silent. Mark hadn't mentioned if anyone was sleeping here other than us, but it certainly didn't seem like it. I located the wine easily, and a glass wasn't all that hard to find either. I was a bit stumped about the corkscrew though. There were just so many drawers and cupboards amongst the gleaming walnut cabinetry. I searched by the pale moonlight streaming in from the bay window above the apron sink. Drawer after drawer yielded no results. I was getting a bit desperate when...
"Looking for this?" a deep voice said from the shadows.
I couldn't help it. I shrieked like a banshee and nearly dropped the glass from my hand.
I am such a scaredy cat!
Heart still thundering wildly as I pictured crazy axe murderers or escaped convicts, I turned to see my potential assailant. I figured it was good to know what was behind me in case I needed to start running.
It wasn't a ghostly specter or sinister clown—though both of those images had popped into my head. Instead I found Jameson, illuminated in the moonlight and holding a corkscrew in his hand on the other side of the large kitchen island.
Holy shit. This man was still stunning when he was half cloaked in shadows.
"Oh my God, you scared the hell out of me!" I stage whispered to him as I clutched my
still rapidly beating heart. I listened closely for sounds of movement from the floor above us, but it seemed my scream hadn't disturbed anyone. I guess the house was so big the sound didn't carry all the way through it.
Jameson chuckled to himself. "I'm so sorry Miss Holly. I really didn't mean to frighten you like that. I always move softly. I guess it's an old habit from so many years of hunting."
A pleasant thrill went up my spine, and I was suddenly extra aware that I was wearing nothing but a silky cami and shorts that left little to the imagination. Ok, so my ass cheeks were definitely on display. Jameson eyed my nighty with appreciation. I guess someone did end up enjoying them after all...
"I guess I'm partly to blame," I said, "I have always been easily startled. My little sister, Heather, used to try and frighten me to death on a daily basis. I really should be used to it by now."
He moved around the island towards me, holding out the corkscrew. I took it like a desert wanderer being offered a cool glass of lemonade. If I thought I wanted of a glass of red wine before now it was nothing compared to my current need.
What was it with this man??
I grabbed the tool from his hand, careful to avoid making skin to skin contact with him. He already had my insides in knots, and I was afraid I would spontaneously orgasm at his actual touch. I was still shaking like a leaf as I poured the wine, and a few stray droplets splashed onto the counter.
"I wish I could help make you feel more comfortable, Darlin’. I wouldn't want your first night here to be memorable for the wrong reasons."
"What would make it memorable for the right reasons?" I asked, licking my lips unconsciously. I took a sip from the glass. Maybe if I kept my hands and mouth busy I could reduce the urge to pull him towards me for a kiss. The wine was actually quite good.
