Tangle of Tinsel

by Shyla Colt

  She pulls up another chair and sits beside me, organizing her ribbons, tape, and string.

  “How’s Romy?”

  “You know about her?” I turn, astonished.

  “Of course. Dad was the one who came over to handle the cleanup and put a new tree in place. I helped decorate it, though. He’s rubbish at it.”

  I smile.

  “You know your father adores Mom as much as anyone. She asked, and he was out the door like his pants were on fire.”

  I snicker. “Sounds about right.” I swallow. “How’s he doing?”

  She snatches my olive branch up with both hands, and we launch into small talk. “Do you know what all this is about?” She curls a red ribbon with her scissor’s edge and places it carefully into a brown paper bag with a handle.

  “Not a clue,” I admit.

  “Huh. Mom always has something up her sleeve, doesn’t she?”

  Nona sticks her head inside of the door sometime later. “How’s the project coming along?”

  “Almost done.” Mom ties a charming twine bow.

  “Excellent. Cal, those bags on the floor beside you will go with the ones you’re packing.”

  “Are you going to tell me where I’m headed with this?”

  “Romy’s.”

  I groan and cover my face with my hand. “Nona, she’s going to think I’m a stalker. I can’t just show up at her place like this. I need to leave the girl alone.”

  “It’s fine. Oh. You should take Romy to the tree farm, too. I’m sure she didn’t have a chance to get that either.”

  “Who says she even wants to go anywhere with me?”

  Nona waves me off as Mom laughs. “I’ll text her. That’s what you kids prefer to actual conversation now, isn’t it?”

  I laugh, shaking my imaginary cane. “Us whippersnappers and our phones, huh?”

  “Hush, you.” She swats my behind and pulls her phone out of her apron.

  “There’s no stopping her now,” Mom mutters.

  Romy might not want to admit she’s attracted to me, but I can sense it. I won’t break her rigid boundaries unless she asks me. But I will push to see their definition.

  “So, tell me about Romy.”

  “I don’t know as much as I wish I did, honestly.”

  “I sense there’s more to it than that.” Mom stops to run a hand over my cheek.

  I tilt my head into the comforting gesture. “There could be. From the second I saw her ...” I trail off, trying to put the strange event into words. “It was like the world held vibrant colors. Like she was the brightest star in the galaxy, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I thought she experienced it, too.”

  Mom’s brow wrinkles, and her lips turn down at the corners. “And now you don’t?”

  “I’m not sure. Romy said yesterday has gone a bit fuzzy.”

  “To be fair, the woman did hit her head pretty damn hard.” She rests her hand on my shoulder. “Do you want my advice, Cal?”

  I nod my head.

  “If you feel this strongly, pursue her. Chase the emotion and see where it leads you. Once I was a nineteen-year-old girl at a Fleetwood Mac concert who saw a gorgeous man. He had a wide grin, a devil may care attitude, and some kind of force I couldn’t deny. Our eyes met across the field. We left together, and we’ve been together since. There have been great highs and lows, but I never once regretted my decision to seek him out. That’s our story. You have to learn your own. Maybe this girl is the one. Maybe she isn’t. Either way, you’ll drive yourself crazy with what-ifs if you don’t find out.”

  I’ve seen the first picture she and Dad ever took together at that concert. She’s in a flowing white dress with a wreath of wildflowers around her hair. Dad is in a pair of jeans with a white shirt open to show off his suntanned chest. He was a carpenter back then. The happiness that flows between them then is the same thing they have now, only less matured, weathered, and tested. If I have a shot at half of that—

  “Thanks, Mom. You answered my questions.”

  ROMY

  He’s coming back. My heart sings as I tidy the house I’d been moping around since he left. Running the dishwasher, I zip around the house, keeping myself busy as nervous energy fills me. I toy with the end of one of my braids, twisting it between my thumb and forefinger. This is a favor to Nona. I shouldn’t read too much into it. Knock, knock. I slowly count to ten before I force myself to walk to the door. When I do, my mouth flops open. His long arms are weighed down with brown paper bags.

  “Special delivery courtesy of Bits and Baubles.”

  For me, the real gift is the man smiling down on me. Like it or not, I’m insanely attracted to him.

  “I can’t believe she did all this for me. She said she was sending a few things over. This is too much.” I cover my mouth, enchanted as I step aside to let him enter.

  “Take it from me, you’re better off not picking this battle. You’re going to lose spectacularly. Nona is a bulldozer in disguise.” His deep sigh makes me laugh.

  “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  “Let’s just say it runs in the family. Small yet mighty is my mother’s theme as well.” The exasperation in his tone is adorable. Every truth he reveals further endears him to me. “Plus, we all feel terrible about the um ... Tangle of Tinsel.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  He nods solemnly. “Yes.”

  My joy wanes. This visit is more business than pleasure for him. “I don’t have anything to put them on.”

  “Did I mention my delivery comes with a free trip to the Johnson’s Christmas Tree Farm?”

  “Caleb. You really don’t have to—”

  “I never do anything I don’t want to.” His voice is steely. Uncertainty splashes across his face. “If you don’t want to go with me—”

  “I do.”

  His eyes widen, and he relaxes. A slow smile transforms his resting bitch face. The man’s a hardened shell with a gooey inside, and I want to eat him up.

  “All right. I’ll set this down, and you can go get bundled up. We have to find our own, so it’ll take longer than a normal place might.”

  “Wait. The trees are still in the ground?”

  “Uh. Yes.”

  “I’m about to live my best Hallmark life. Please hold while I dress appropriately.”

  His laugh chases me up the stairs.

  Wiggling into a pair of fleece-lined black tights and my sizeable red sweater with white snowflakes, I tug my thick black socks up to my knees. This is more than I ever dreamed I’d find here in Vermont. I add smudge-proof lipstick and pull my hair back into a ponytail. I’m going to Instagram the hell out of this trip, and I need to look decent. Bounding down the stairs, I grin as Caleb stands from the couch. The second I hit the landing, my eyes are drawn to the pile of packages.

  “You brought me Christmas.” My voice wavers.

  “I’m just helping you finish what you started.” Refusing to take credit makes him that much more irresistible. “I-I’m glad we could do this. The thought of your holiday being ruined pissed me off. You deserve better.”

  “You sound so sure.” I walk up to him.

  “You’re sweet, kind, and this is your first Christmas here.”

  “Is that all?” I tilt my head, studying him.

  “Those are reasons enough. We should go.” He removes my coat from the hook by the door, then holds it out and helps me slip my arms into it. Turning me to face him, he zips me up and pulls my oversized scarf over my head.

  The simple act weakens my knees. If this is how he treats a friend, how would he treat a lover? Let’s find out. The wicked voice in my head begs me to make a move.

  “Are you real?” I whisper.

  “Hmm?” Dropping his hands from my person, he steps back. “Sorry, I suppose I’ve gotten used to taking care of you.”

  “You’re very good at it.”

  “You think so? I wasn’t sure you noticed since you
fight me every step of the way.”

  “I’m not used to it,” I confess.

  “You should be. You deserve to be treated like a queen. Do you have gloves?” He smooths his hands down my arms.

  “In my pocket.”

  “Then I think we’re ready.” He offers me his arm, escorting me to his car after I lock up.

  Sinking into the heated seats, I moan.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “Romy, if you’re not feeling up to this, let me know.”

  I cover my face with my hand. “I love a warm bottom.” Silence fills the luxury vehicle. Boisterous laughter erupts from him, and I giggle.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he teases.

  I slide down in my seat as he pulls out of the driveway, thinking of his big hands warming my bottom in a completely different manner.

  “We should get into the spirit.” He turns on the radio. Nat King Cole begins to sing about chestnuts. I admire the scenery as we drive, and he occasionally points out landmarks. The place looks like a postcard.

  “How do you like the town so far?”

  “I haven’t seen as much of it as I would’ve liked. I’ve been pretty focused on learning my way around the practice I work for and getting moved in.”

  “I get that. I might be a little biased, but I think you’re going to love it here. People are friendly, the landscape is amazing, and there’s always something to do. There are a lot of local, seasonal events. The close-knit community vibe is one I sorely missed when I lived in New York City.”

  “Why did you come back?” I ask. It’s such a drastic change.

  “It was time. I went to further my career, but I had plans of coming back when the time was right.”

  “And you just up and left,” I snap my fingers, “like that?”

  “It wasn’t as difficult as you think. I cut my teeth there, learned the ropes, and won cases. Outside of working insane hours, I didn’t have much.”

  “You sound incredibly focused.” I’m impressed.

  “I felt like I had too much to prove not to be.”

  “I can understand that.” I study him. “How old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-five.”

  “You already know my age.”

  “I want to know everything you wish to tell me.” The sincerity in his voice moves me.

  Careful, Romy, he’s out of your league.

  I lick my lips. “So why is there no Mrs. Caleb?”

  “I was too busy working, and I never met anyone who made me think of a little white church and wedding bells. What about you?”

  “I used to daydream about walking down the aisle in a white dress.”

  “What happened?” he asks softly.

  “I realized how silly and naïve I was to expect the perfect man to show up.” I trace designs on the beside me.

  “Perfect for you is different than being without flaws altogether. I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting the right one. What about you?”

  “There it is!” I point at the sign with the farm’s picture, claiming it’s only three miles away now.

  Sitting up straighter, I move closer to the window. We pull into a dirt parking lot. He parks, and I scramble out like a child about to go into a toy store. Assaulted by the scent of pine blowing on the wind, I spin around in a circle, taking in everything. There’s a section of trees already cut and waiting for a home. Two structures sit across from each other in a clearing. Each has cash registers, but one has a menu written on a chalkboard.

  “I’ve never done this before,” I whisper

  “Had a live tree?”

  “No. Gone to a Christmas Tree Park like this.”

  “Ah. Then we have to get you the full experience.” He gestures toward the concession stand. “They have some of the best cider around.”

  I shove the shrewish voice inside of my head, cautioning me to let my guard down, aside and embrace the moment. I follow him to the aptly titled Tree Stand.

  “Can I get two apple ciders with the works, please?”

  My mouth waters as I watch them make the hot concoction. A cinnamon stick goes into the cup of steaming goodness, and a healthy dollop of whip cream is placed on top and drizzled with caramel. Sparkly white sprinkles add a finishing touch.

  “It’s almost too pretty to drink.” Accepting the cup he hands me, I take a bite of the whipped cream.

  “You were saying?”

  “What? I said almost.”

  Smiling, he shakes my head.

  “Have you realized you keep bringing me to situations that force me to trust you?”

  He rolls his eyes playfully. “There are plenty of people around us.”

  “Says the big, bad wolf to Little Red Riding Hood.”

  “So, I’m a wolf now?” he asks, amused.

  “I don’t know, are you?”

  “In the sense that I like to hunt my prey and devour it, yes.”

  I swallow. “How will we let the workers know we’ve found the tree?”

  He’s adorable with a tiny whip cream mustache I want to lick off. His tongue does it first, and my belly clenches.

  “Well, people mark it, but in our case, I’m going to chop it down.”

  “What?” I eye him skeptically. “You?”

  He nods. “Yep. Brought an axe in the trunk. I didn’t want to freak you out, so I didn’t break it out yet.”

  “You’re serious?” I ask, excited at the prospect of him going full lumberjack.

  “You doubt my prowess?” He stands up to his full height and makes a muscle.

  “No. Just your desire to get your hands dirty.”

  “I’m born and raised in the mountains. I can start a fire, chop down a tree, and rough it with the best of them.”

  I press a finger to my bottom lip. “As a lawyer, you’ll understand I require proof.”

  His eyes darken. “I have no problem performing under pressure. Finish your drink, and we’ll get started.”

  I take a sip to hide my smile. He’s not as unaffected by my words as he’d have me believe.

  “Yes, sir.”

  His pupils dilate. “I like those words on your lips.”

  “Hmm, don’t get too used to it.”

  “Drink up, little one. We’ve got things to take care of.” He taps the bottom of my cup.

  “What’s my motivation?”

  “Seeing me chop down the tree of your dreams.” He playfully flicks my nose, and I finish the cup.

  “Good girl.” The shudder that runs through me has nothing to do with the cold. We toss our cups into a garbage can and return to the car for an ax and a sled.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  “I’m all ears, little one.”

  “I’m awful at proportions.” I exhale.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s the right size for your house. Any time we’re together, you never have to worry about the details. Enjoy being here and pick the one you love.” His voice is anti-anxiety medicine. The calm he provides me is exquisite. I brush my gloved hands against pine needles as we wander. There are so many choices. The size and fullness vary. A mid-sized tree with full branches comes to my attention.

  “Caleb?” I grab his elbow.

  “Did you find him?” He leans down toward me.

  I nod enthusiastically.

  “Let’s get him down then.”

  He wanders around the tree, measuring distances with paces, before removing his outerwear, revealing a black and white plaid shirt and a white Henley. Pushing the long sleeves up, he hands me his coat and directs me three feet away. “I want you to stand there where you’ll be safe from any flying wood.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Smirking, he hefts the axe. I watch as he attacks the tree with sure whacks. I press my thighs together as my body responds to his raw display of strength. I imagine how much hotter he’d look topless. Can we revisit this place in warmer weather? Or just get naked together? />
  He yells timber and tips over the tree. My flooded underwear need to be retired as he hefts the tree onto the sled and latches it down with bungee cords.

  “Well?” He holds out his arms.

  I clap. “Very nicely done.”

  “I do love to rise up to a challenge.”

  I bite my bottom lip.

  “Come here.”

  The two words enrapture me. I step forward, feeling like I’m physically pulled by an invisible force. I stop close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body. A thin sheen of sweat lines his forehead. I want to lick it off and taste the salt, the manliness. His breath comes out in a hazy cloud that warms my face. He moves even closer—slow enough for me to ask him to stop if I want. I tilt my head, meeting him halfway. His lips brush mine. I sigh, leaning in to grip his warm shirt. The tip of his tongue traces my lips.

  “You’ve got such a pretty mouth, Romy. I could do so many things with those lips if you’d let me.” He pulls back, and our breaths meld. “Do you want me to?”

  God, yes. I open my mouth to answer, but laughter booms to our left. I jump. He places an arm around me, palming my hip. Closing his eyes, he inhales. “Time to get you and your tree home.”

  I cover his hand with my own. “Stay to decorate it?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “I’d like.” The words flow forth like water.

  Chapter Four

  Caleb

  “Can you put the last ornament right here?” Romy points at a tree limb she’d have to strain to reach.

  I place the burlap star in the requested place and smile down at her. “I think you like ordering me around.”

  Romy places her hands on her hips. “Funny. I’d say the same thing about you.”

  I’m struck again by her curves. My hands itch to travel over them and pull her against me. I don’t want to rush things but being passive has never been my style. I trail my finger over the shell of her right ear.

  “I never give directions I wouldn’t take myself.”

  Her lips curve up. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I nod.

  “So, if I say come here?”

  I take a step toward her. She crooks her finger, and I bend down. Our lips brush. I hum as my nerve endings explode. “I think I remember you mentioning all the things you’d like to do with my lips.”