Page 19 of Fire in My Heart

Charlotte was watching our exchange, her gaze volleying between us. “You’re too cute.”

Both of us paused and looked at her.

“Cute?” Wes asked, his tone carefully measured.

She grinned, and I was struck by how beautiful she was when she smiled. “Yeah, cute.”

“You know men don’t like to be called cute, right?” I asked her.

She smiled so wide, a dimple popped on her left cheek. “I just call it like I see it. Which one of you brave men is going to show me what I should be doing?”

Wes shook his head, then slapped me hard on the arm. “I think it’s this guy. Go easy on him though.”

Charlotte looked at me expectantly. “I’m a little nervous about losing a finger, but I’m excited to learn how you do this part.”

Wes chuckled as he stepped away, and I refrained from calling him a bastard. Dad raised us better, and I’d stopped acting childish after Mom died. There hadn’t been time to be a kid anymore.

“You’re not going to lose a finger,” I said as I led the way over to the baler. It wasn’t necessary for her to learn this part, but I wanted to challenge her. Maybe she’d leave if it was too hard.

“Are you sure about that?” Charlotte asked dubiously as we paused in front of the machine. The guys placed the treethrough the machine, and it came out on the other side wrapped tightly and ready for transport on the roof of a car or the bed of a truck.

“The tree goes through the funnel that forces the branches tight against the trunk and wraps it with a plastic netting for easy transport. Technically, we could wrap a hundred trees an hour, but we don’t usually have that many guests.”

Charlotte winked at me. “Maybe you will.”

I raised a brow. “I’d have to see it to believe it.”

“What do you need me to do?” Charlotte asked nervously.

“You mind if I show her how it’s done?” I asked one of the kids; I think his name was Will.

“No problem, boss.” Will stepped to the side, already pulling out his phone.

A second kid stood at the other end, ready to catch the wrapped tree. I motioned for Charlotte to stand by my side.

The next person in line handed me a tree. “You just feed it through the machine like this, and it comes out on the other side wrapped.”

When it was done, I said, “Happy holidays,” to the customer and his family.

“Look at that. You do have holiday cheer,” Charlotte observed.

I frowned. “I’m just being nice. Now, it’s your turn.”

Charlotte’s nose turned up. “You sure I won’t get hurt.”

“Here, put these on.” I handed her the thick gloves I kept in my back pocket. They were too big, but they’d do the trick. I tried not to think about how they looked on her much smaller hands.

Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. She bit her lip before taking the next tree and feeding it through. She squeaked when the machine grabbed the tree from her hands. Her startled gaze flew to mine.

“That’s right.”

We walked around the funnel to find the tree wrapped tightly. “Perfect.”

She rested a hand on her chest. “I was worried that I would ruin their tree.”

I shook my head. “Not possible. You want to take over this for a bit? Then later I’ll show you how to secure a tree to the roof.”

“Yeah, okay,” Charlotte said with less certainty than when I left her at the counter. I figured this was out of her wheelhouse. She didn’t feel as comfortable with manual labor.

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