'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  Pasting a closed-lip smile on my face, I make my way toward the red building in the near distance Candice told me to meet her at, nodding and murmuring hello at all the people as I pass by them. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, but we’re only a couple of days away, so I guess we’re close enough. Candice and Charlie’s wedding is this Saturday. The Saturday after Thanksgiving. Candice admitted a while ago that Charlie wasn’t particularly happy about her choice of wedding date at first, since it’s smack at the beginning of his busiest season. But he agreed to it because he will do anything to make the woman he loves happy.

  And what makes Candice happy? Christmas. Friends. Family. Decorations everywhere and twinkling lights and holiday music and rows and rows of fresh green trees. Basically, she’s marrying her dream man, the Christmas tree farmer. I’m happy for her.

  Can’t help but wonder what that’s like, meeting the man of your actual dreams. The one who will drop everything to help you. Be with you. Who only wants to make you happy and doesn’t worry about what anyone else thinks. Who loves and cherishes you and doesn’t let his gaze linger too long on a pretty woman while he’s standing right next to you. Yeah, I have no idea what that’s like at all—

  “Whoa, watch out!”

  I run smack dab into a wall, AKA a man. As in, my entire body just smashes into him, my face pressing right into his firm chest for the briefest moment before I seemingly bounce off of him like I’m a rubber ball. A fleeting thought floats through my head as I almost stumble backward and nearly fall.

  This guy. He smells really freaking good. Like pine and cotton and…campfire smoke?

  Yes, like the fresh outdoors. Like he spends all of his time in nature. The scent doesn’t seem manufactured either.

  “Sorry about that. You okay?” He grabs my shoulders, his grip firm yet gentle and keeping me from falling to the ground.

  Slowly I tip my head back to find a very attractive man watching me. He’s wearing a dark green ball cap with the words Sullivan Tree Farm stitched in red across the front of it. He’s got on a matching forest-green sweatshirt and jeans, and he’s gripping me with hands that are covered by work gloves. His brows are lowered and his full lips are parted, and I have another, weirder thought.

  What would it feel like to kiss those lips?

  I shake my head, knocking that wild idea out of my brain. “I’m fine.”

  “You sure about that?” When I frown, he continues, “It’s just, you said you’re fine and shook your head at the same time. I call that a mixed message.”

  That almost sounds like an insult. But when I study his face, his very friendly, cute face, I don’t see any derision or anger in his expression at all. He’s just stating himself plainly. No games.

  “You startled me, that’s all,” I say with the faintest smile.

  He returns it, and wow, that just upped his attractive factor by about a million. He has perfectly straight teeth, and his blue eyes light up, as if he’s extremely happy to see me.

  Even if he doesn’t know me.

  “Sorry,” he repeats as he tries to let go of me. As in, his fingers are, um…sticking to my very expensive denim jacket. “Damn sap,” he mutters under his breath as he pries his fingers away.

  I glance at the spot he just touched on my right arm, seeing the sap stain he left behind. “That probably won’t come out, will it?”

  “It might, if you use rubbing alcohol. Make sure you pour it on a clean white washcloth first, since that won’t stain, before you try to rub it out.” He makes an uncomfortable face and starts to chuckle.

  Oh. I get it. Rub it out. Close to rub one out. Why do guys always have to take things to the sexual level?

  “Thank you for the tip,” I snap at him before I start walking, heading for that red building as fast as possible.

  “You’re welcome!” he calls after me. “Sorry about staining your jacket!”

  Ignoring his third apology, I increase my pace, needing to get away from him. He’s cute. Nice. A little crude, but I’m also a bit of a prude right now considering I’m single and sensitive about men in general, so there’s that. I shouldn’t take things so seriously. Not every man I come across is like my ex. I can’t just paint a wide swath and consider all men egotistical assholes.

  I know plenty of them are that way, but not all of them.

  By the time I’m entering the red building, I’m out of breath and completely overwhelmed by the burst of Christmas that is going on in this place.

  It’s a store filled to the very brim with holiday décor, and it is dazzling. No tacky, cheesy Christmas decorations in here. It’s all elegant. Tasteful. Sections of the store are divided into themes, and when you first enter the store, the front display has a strong, traditional Christmas vibe. Santa Claus and Rudolph with red and green everywhere.

  I might be grumpy and feeling anti-holiday this season, but I can appreciate the beauty that surrounds me. My mother would love this place. I need to bring her here soon.

  “Amelia! There are you are!”

  I turn to find my friend Candice rushing toward me, a giant grin on her face. She pulls me into an enthusiastic embrace, and I hug her back, suddenly appreciating her sweet nature, the way she makes everyone feel as if they’re automatically loved. “This place is gorgeous,” I tell her when we pull away from each other.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” She gazes around the shop with wide-eyed wonder, like it’s the first time she’s ever seen it. “Charlie’s sister Victoria runs it. She does a fabulous job.” Candice leans in closer to me, her voice lowering. “She let me tag along last summer to a wholesale expo where they were showcasing all the upcoming holiday décor, and it was amazing. I was beside myself, helping her choose items for the store.”

  “I can only imagine,” I tell her with a genuine smile. Wow, can’t remember the last time I flashed one of those.

  “So!” Candice claps her hands together, her expression eager. “You need a tree for your jewelry store.”

  “Yes, we do. Do you already have something picked out for me?” I ask hopefully. Not really looking forward to walking through endless rows of trees searching for the perfect one.

  “After I spoke with your mother, I talked to Charlie about it and he had some of his employees gather up a few options for you. I told him what you were looking for, and I’m positive one of the trees he chose will work. Come on, let’s go out back.”

  I follow her through the store, my gaze busy, not sure where to look next. It keeps bouncing from beautiful item to beautiful item. The scent of cranberries mixed with spice drifts in the air, and there’s soft, jazzy holiday music playing in the background. Whereas outside is Christmas in your face, in the store it’s much more subtle. Downright soothing.

  We exit through a side door and she takes me to a spot where a few cut trees are leaning against a low, wooden fence. “He didn’t cut all of these specifically for me, did he?” I ask, worried that I killed too many trees for no good reason.

  “Not at all. These trees are going to one of the lots in Monterey, and we pulled these ones aside just for you. They were the best ones, according to Charlie.” Candice smiles. “He knows his trees.”

  “I’m sure he sure does,” I murmur as I contemplate my choices. They’re all beautiful. But there’s one that’s very tall and extra fluffy, and it snagged my heart from the moment I set eyes on it. “I want that one.” I point toward the fluffy tree.

  “Really? That’s my favorite one too! Okay, I’ll let him know and they’ll deliver it to the store later this afternoon,” Candice says. “Does that work for your schedule? Will you still be at the store?”

  “Yes, I will,” I answer, trying to sound pleasant. As if there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  Truly? I’d prefer to be in bed, hidden under the covers, watching a sappy romantic movie on Netflix and letting myself cry yet again for my lost relationship. The lost years I devoted to it.

  Oh yes, and drowning my sorrows and depressio
n in ice cream. Trying my best to not focus on the good memories I have with he who shall not be named.

  When you think about the good stuff, you forget about the bad. And I can’t do that.

  No matter how much I want to.

  Chapter 2

  Isaac

  “I think I pissed off a customer,” I say to my boss, Charlie Sullivan. He’s the oldest son of the Sullivan family, and the one who runs the tree farm. I’ve worked for him for three years, and while he can be a giant prick when he wants, he’s also a great boss. Fair. He’ll work you hard and always compliment you when you do a good job. The pay’s good too.

  This isn’t my life’s work, though. I’m only twenty-one. Got this job straight out of high school, been thinking about going to college and get a degree in something, but what?

  I don’t know. That’s my problem. I’m young and I have my whole life before me, according to my parents, but I can’t figure out what I want to do. I almost envy Charlie and his business. He had no choice from the time he was young. He’s a Sullivan, the oldest. He’s known since he was a kid that he would run this place someday.

  And here I am with no goals, no structure. I just…live. Day by day. Week by week.

  “What did you do?” Charlie asks with a grunt as he tosses a bound tree onto the back of the truck. That’s another thing I respect about our boss. He has no issues with working right along beside us. He gets his hands dirty, just like we do.

  “This uh, freakin’ hot woman was walking extra fast toward the store and she bumped right into me. Wasn’t even lookin’ where she was goin’.” I shake my head, hoping like hell I don’t make Charlie mad with this next confession. “I grabbed hold of her arms so she wouldn’t fall, and my sap-covered gloves stuck to her fancy denim jacket.”

  “She was wearing a fancy denim jacket?” Charlie appears to have no comprehension of what I’m talking about.

  I’m not wealthy by any means, but I’ve grown up in this area. I know money when I see it, and that woman looked like money. Classy. Gorgeous. Sleek black hair and dark brown eyes that glared at me when I said rub it out and then laughed.

  That look on her face had immediately made me feel like a jerk. I apologized to her multiple times, but I don’t think it mattered.

  I made her mad. Hell, I might’ve even disgusted her.

  “The jacket looked like it cost a lot of money,” I clarify. “And now I stained it with sap. I’m sure she was pissed.”

  “Did she act like she was pissed?” Charlie asks.

  Should I mention the rub it out comment? I decide not to. “A little irritated, yeah. She stormed off toward the store, like she was in a hurry.”

  “What she look like?” Charlie angles his head toward me, his gaze narrowed.

  “Almost tall as me. Fancy looking. Dark hair. Young. She reminded me of Miss Candice.” Charlie’s fiancé is only a couple years older than me, but I like calling her that. I think she likes it too. We’re friends, me and Candice. She’s nice. Kind. She’s softened my boss up since they got together, and now they’re going to get married.

  This Saturday, as a matter of fact. I’ll be there. They’re closing the tree lot early—on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I don’t know how she convinced Charlie to do it—and the wedding is happening here. Right beside the field of trees. I’m sure it’ll be awesome. And I can’t wait to watch, because I’ll be here as a guest.

  “Well, shit, that was probably her friend Amelia,” Charlie says, shaking his head. “I’ll ask Candice if she complained about you.”

  I’m a little offended. “Why would she complain about me?”

  “Because you ruined her jacket with sap. You’re right about the fancy denim jacket. That thing probably cost a couple hundred dollars. Maybe more,” Charlie says, like it’s no big deal. “Her family owns a jewelry store. They do very well for themselves.”

  I’m sure he’s not wrong about the dollar amount, but damn. That’s a ridiculous amount of money for a denim jacket. “I told her how to get the sap out.”

  “Always helpful, aren’t you, Jonesie?” Charlie laughed and tossed the last tree on the pile of them that lined the back of the truck. “Maybe you can go deliver her tree to the store. See if she’s still mad at ya.”

  “Deliver her tree?” I frown.

  “Her parents own Lee Fine Jewelers in downtown Carmel. That’s why she’s here. To pick out a tree for their store,” Charlie explains. “What do you say? You can even offer to buy her a new jacket.”

  “But I don’t want to buy her a new one,” I mutter, making my boss laugh.

  “Come on, I was kidding. But I do need you to deliver that tree,” Charlie tells me, all traces of laughter gone. “After that, you can go on home.”

  “You want me to drive a company truck home?” I do that every so often, but it’s not something Charlie likes to make a habit of.

  “Yeah, get out of here.” He waves a hand. “You’ve been on the clock since six.”

  It’s past three now, and I never did take a lunch. In fact, I’m starving, and my growling stomach just proved it. “If you say so. I don’t mind sticking around if you need me.”

  “It’s all good. We’ve got it from here,” Charlie says.

  I gather up my belongings, including the lunch I packed and never ate, and make my way to the truck Charlie wants me to drive. There’s a single tree lying in the back of it, a giant, extra-full one that’s actually pretty damn beautiful, and I admire it for a bit before I hop in the truck and start the engine.

  Traffic’s shit as I make my way to downtown Carmel. I blame the upcoming holiday. Everyone’s out and about. Tourists are here in droves, as usual. I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world, according to my mother. She came here when she was young, right around my age, wanting to make a name for herself. Those were her words, and I’m not sure what she meant by that. Did she have plans on meeting and marrying a rich man so she could live in a fancy mansion on 17 Mile Drive, in a giant house right on the ocean?

  That’s not what happened. She met an average dude and they got married, had kids and live a good life in Marina. They’re still together, and as happy as they can be. I used to live with them too, up until about a year ago, when I got an apartment with a few buddies in Monterey. Most of my money goes to rent, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather live.

  Not right now, at least.

  When I finally turn onto Ocean Drive, traffic is backed up for miles. No wonder I don’t come around here too often. It’s overrun with tourists, there are a lot of overpriced shops, and it’s just not my scene. Though I do like the Carmel beach down at the bottom of the road. When I was in high school, my friends and I used to like coming over here and lighting bonfires at night. Drink beers we stole from our parents’ liquor stash and make moves on the cute girls who hung out with us.

  That feels like a lifetime ago. Before I had responsibilities and rent and car insurance to pay for.

  Sometimes, being an adult sucks balls.

  When I’m finally able to turn onto the side street where the jewelry store is located, I realize I’m thirty minutes late. I was supposed to be here at four.

  Damn it. My next impression with this woman is getting blown all over the place.

  I park where Charlie directed and climb out of the truck to go knock on the back door of the jewelry shop. No one answers. I knock again.

  Again, no answer.

  Craning my head one way, then the other, I decide to walk around the building and enter through the front door like a paying customer. Hope to hell a cop doesn’t ticket the truck while I do this. Parking is tight downtown, and they monitor the meters and parking spots rigorously. An expensive ticket would be yet another expense I definitely don’t need.

  The store is located down a narrow pebbled walkway between two buildings, white lights strung crisscrossed above my head, potted plants everywhere, along with comfortable looking wooden benches. I find Lee Fine Jewelers tucked a
way in the far left corner of the shopping court, and I push open the glass door, striding inside.

  There’s a hushed quality to the store. Gentle piano music tinkles in the background, and there are customers inside, but they’re all talking in quiet tones, like we’re in a library. And they’re all dressed impeccably. The women have fancy handbags hanging from their shoulders or wrists, and the men all reek of money.

  While I’m standing in the middle of this place in dusty jeans and a faded green sweatshirt with a hole in the front pocket. Glancing down at myself, I see there’s a bright spot of yellow mustard on my sweatshirt too. Must’ve been from the sandwich I inhaled on my way over here.

  Great. I’m real a class act.

  “Can I help you?”

  I turn to find the very woman who ran into me earlier at the farm striding toward me, a concerned expression on her face. The closer she gets, the more fascinated I become. Her skin is smooth. Flawless. Reminds me of a painting. And her eyes are so dark, they appear almost black.

  And I see those eyes shift. Widen a little bit. She recognizes me.

  Hope she’s not disappointed in my sudden appearance.

  “Hey.” I tip my head toward her with a polite smile. “Nice to see you again. I’m here to deliver your tree.”

  She scowls. It’s still a good look for her, and my heart does this weird twisting thing in my chest. I rub at it absently. “You’re a half hour late.”

  “Sorry about that,” I say easily, dropping my arm to my side. “Traffic.”

  “You apologize a lot.”

  I frown. “Excuse me?”

  “I believe that’s the fourth time you’ve told me you’re sorry since you ran into me.” She crosses her arms.

  I swipe my baseball cap off, quickly running a hand over my hair. Probably shouldn’t tell her that she’s the one who ran into me. “If it helps, I meant every single one of them.”

  She relaxes a little at that. “Where are you parked? Out back?”

  I nod, slipping my hat back on my head. Backwards this time.