Page 74 of How to Catch a Rockstar

“I want this tree.” Aurora sticks out her bottom lip and pouts.

I run a hand through my hair and try not to pull on the ends. “This tree has all its roots attached. We’ll need to water it and it’s going to shed needles all over the house.”

She snorts. “As if you do the cleaning.”

She has a point but I can’t tell her the real reason I don’t want a live tree. I want her Christmas present to be a surprise.

“Besides,” she continues. “We live in Winter Falls. If we return home with a cut tree, they’ll probably banish us. Maybe chase us out of town with shovels.”

Winter Falls and its crazy environmental rules strike again. I still don’t know what the big deal is about driving a car with a combustion engine around. Especially if it’s fuel efficient.

But I know better than to say anything to the town's inhabitants. They have PowerPoint presentations prepared for all your environmental questions. I wish I was kidding.

“Fine,” I give in.

Aurora squeals and rushes to me. She throws her arms around me. When I feel all her curves against my body, I don’t give a shit about how messy the house is about to be.

“Thank you.” She pushes up on her toes to reach my lips.

The second her mouth touches mine, I forget all about the Christmas tree. All about us standing in the middle of a Christmas tree farm on Christmas Eve. All I can feel is her curves. All I can smell is her flowery scent. I want to drown in it.

“Ahem. AHEM!”

I force myself to break the kiss and meet the gaze of the throat clearer. “Cash or credit?” the attendant asks.

I pay for the tree and together we attach it to the top of Cash’s car, which I borrowed for the day. When we arrive home, I ask Fender to help me set the tree up in the corner of the living room.

“What do you think?” I ask Aurora once Fender has left.

Her eyes are alight with happiness. “It’s perfect.”

“Do you want to pop some popcorn while I figure out the light situation?”

“Perfect.”

Yip.

Aurora freezes on her way to the kitchen. “Did you hear something?”

I swallow my smile. “No.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Me?” I grasp my chest. “I wouldn’t lie to the mother of my child on Christmas Eve.”

She snorts. “You are such a liar.”

Yip.

“There! I heard it again.” She rushes toward the den. She screeches to a halt in front of the giftwrapped box sitting on the table. The one Fender snuck into the house when he came to help with the tree.

“Can I open it?”

“How do you know it’s for you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course, it’s for me. Your presents are still…”

Her voice trails off when the lid of the box lifts. She doesn’t hesitate to pull the lid the rest of the way off. She gasps before removing the puppy and cradling her to her chest.

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