Page 34 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

“If we hurry, we can get the tree set up at the HideOut before our parents wonder where we are.” His voice is urgent but his thumb traces my bottom lip like he can't quite help himself. “Though God knows I'd rather stay right here.”

We stumble off the ice, our fingers fumbling with laces as we rush to change out of our skates.

“Jack?” I say as we hurry toward his truck, the tree secured in the back.

“Yeah?” He opens the passenger door for me, offering his hand to help me up.

I hesitate, then decide to go for it. “That hot chocolate... I don't think I'll ever look at other drinks the same way again.”

His eyes meet mine, dark with understanding. “Funny how that happens,” he says softly. “One taste of something special, and suddenly nothing else measures up.”

Jack closes my door and jogs around to the driver's side.

The festival lights blur as we pull away. I glance at Jack, his profile strong against the darkening sky, and know with absolute certainty that he's ruined me.

And I've never wanted anything more.

Chapter 9

Jack

“Pivot!” Eden's voice rings out as we wrestle the massive Fraser fir through the HideOut's doorway. “No, the other way!”

“There is no other way,” I grunt. The tree's taking up the whole damn entrance, and Eden's backed into the doorframe, snow melting in her hair as she guides her end through. A blast of December wind follows us in, rattling the vintage beer signs on the walls.

“Trust me on this.” Her blue eyes sparkle. “If we angle it—” She shifts left and the tree suddenly slides through, showering us both in snow and loose needles. Her triumphant laugh hits me straight in the chest.

I'm still buzzing from earlier at the rink - her genuine laugh when I caught her, the way she fit perfectly against me, how right it felt teaching her to skate. My hands still burn where I'd touched her waist. She's awakening parts of me I thought were long frozen.

“Okay, this way.” Eden backs carefully through the bar, guiding her end of the tree. “Left. No, your other left,” she points tothe corner near the window. The last rays of sunlight stream through the frosted glass, catching the snowflakes in her hair like diamonds. Even giving orders, she's adorable.

“There's only one left,” I grunt, but can't hide my smile. The twelve-foot tree weighs nothing compared to the way my heart lifts at her playful tone.

My boots crunch over fallen needles as I prop the tree up where she indicated, my muscles flexing as I ensure it's perfectly straight. The ancient floorboards creak beneath the tree stand. When I turn, Eden's already discovered the boxes of decorations I'd stashed behind the bar.

Her eyes light up. “Jack Harrison, have you been holding out on me?” She pulls out strands of twinkling lights and shimmering ornaments. “Someone's got a secret festive side.”

I shrug, aiming for gruff but probably failing. “It's good for business.” I flip on the old jukebox, and Bing Crosby's voice fills the quiet bar. But the truth is, seeing her excitement makes me want to deck every damn hall in the place.

“Red and gold on this side, silver on that side.” Her fingers dance through the tissue paper with practiced grace. She's perched on one of the barstools, surrounded by boxes. “We've got exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes before we need to leave for dinner.”

I lean against the bar, working on the tangled mess of lights while Eden sorts ornaments with military precision across three tables. She's created a system - gold, red, silver, each size perfectly aligned. I catch myself watching her more than the lights in my hands.

She bites her lip, humming along to “White Christmas” while she works, completely lost in her task. Something settles deep in my chest watching her move through my bar like she's always been here.

My hands still on the lights. I've spent years building this place, making it exactly what I wanted, but now I realize it was missing something. Missing her.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world, but I know better than to rush. Eden spooks easy - I've seen how quickly she can throw those walls back up. For now, I'll take these quiet moments, watching her make my world brighter without even trying.

“You're staring,” she says without looking up from her ornament sorting.

“Admiring your technique.” My voice comes out rougher than intended.

“Less admiring, more untangling,” she teases, reaching deep into a box of decorations. “Those lights won't hang themselves.”

When we finish, Eden circles the tree with tinsel draped across her arms. The silver strands catch in her sweater as she moves. She moves through my bar like she owns it, and my possessive instincts purr in approval.

Eden steps back from the tree, tinsel draped over her arms. Her gaze sweeps the bar, taking in every detail as she slowly turns in place.

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