Page 98 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

I stand on the trunk, tugging on the axe handle.

It doesn’t move.

Great.

No matter how I struggle, strain, or heave, it remains solidly in the wood.

Just like the sword in the stone. I’m clearly not the man to be king here.

The city boy yields to the men of Hanover Tree Farm.

Chapter 33

KELSEYROUNDS THERIGHTBASE

Everyone at the various stores watches me curiously as we buy ribbon, taste-test peach pie, and load two crates of bottled apple cider into the bed of the truck.

Carrie answers their questions easily. I’m a guest at the house and helping out. No one digs too deeply, at least not in front of her.

When we get back to the tree farm, I don’t see Jack or Randy anywhere. Gina sets me up at a long table in the wood building with the ribbon, wire circles, and some plastic greenery to fill them out.

“Good luck!” she says, and I get the feeling she’s pleased as punch to have dumped this task on the poor unsuspecting girl who dared show up with her brother.

When she’s gone, I snatch up my phone to text Zach.

Me:Forget the horror movie. I’m free labor.

He writes me instantly, as if he’s been waiting.

Zach:What are you doing?

Me:Sitting alone in a building, expected to produce ribbon wreaths. I don’t even know how to make them.

I glance around. On the back wall, a long counter holds the cash register and racks of knickknacks, snow globes, ornaments, candy bars, and light-up necklaces.

The two side walls are filled with shelves of decorations, carved statues, and even some taxidermy, including an entire family of squirrels in Santa hats.

I can’t seem to avoid that no matter where I go.

Zach:You want me to come?

I do, desperately. I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into. But I can’t ask him. Apparently, my fate is to make ribbon wreaths.

Me:It’s okay. This is my dystopian nightmare.

Zach:Where’s the husband?

Me:I have no idea but he better be ring shopping.

Zach:If it’s less than a carat, send it back.

This makes me smile. Zachery is good in every situation.

He sends me a link, then another, all short instructional videos on how to make ribbon wreaths. The last one says, “Impress your mother-in-law!”

I have to laugh. Zachery gets me. All the way to the bone.

The door creaks open, and I quickly snatch up a roll of ribbon.

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