Page 24 of Boats, Moats, & Root Beer Floats

“Because—”

“Ho the castle,” someone called from what was most definitelynotthe front door.

“I thought I locked that thing yesterday,” I muttered. “And who actually yells outHo,apart from Santa Claus?”

Covin shrugged, his go to when he didn’t want to fess up to something I was fast learning. “Why don’t we go see?”

I stared at him.What have you done, Dustman?Just like that, all the trust I thought we had dissipated. “Why don’t you go first,” I suggested in a sugary sweet voice.

“Sure.” He held out a hand, mug in the other and started walking.

I huffed, though three steps in I found my hand enfolded in his much larger, warmer one.

A forest filled the corridor, and the next, and the next. Trees lined stone walls as far as I could see.

“What’s happening?” I tugged on his hand. “What did you do?”

He squeezed my fingers. “I’d say sorry but…I’m not. Just go with it, alright?”

I narrowed my eyes at his back but he dived between the trees like he knew a secret path I didn’t. Somewhere in front of me he hosted a conversation with the person I assumed had called out. As I worked my way through the labyrinthine maze of branches, I didn't realize I had walked through the arched front door to the castle until I stood outside suddenly, shielding my eyes and saw…

More trees.

And dozens of workmen garnished with more tinsel and holly than I expected Witnot Castle had ever seen.

“Covin…?”

“Right here.” He appeared at my side, his hand beneath my coffee mug ready to catch when I squawked and dropped it.

“You ordered trees.”

“Yes.”

“Not on my credit card. It didn’t have this much space.”Thank Christ.

He hip bumped me and nearly knocked me off the top step of the castle entrance. “I would never force you to pay for Christmas trees. I saw what you ordered, and reversed the charges. I might have gone a little overboard but also this way we don’t have to hang up any more garlands. And the rest of the castle will be done, too,” he mused.

I stared up at him, absently noting our third clear day in a row.That’s a streak that has to break soon.Rain seemed the order of normality up here. “And how much did buying out a Christmas tree farm cost you?” I breathed.

He shrugged. “No idea. I called in a few favors and here we are.”

“A few favors.” I ran my hand across the tree nearest me and started counting. “Covin, this one is twelve feet tall.”

“Yes, it’s a good size. Ballroom?” He gestured to one of the workmen.

“We have a ballroom?” I looked around.

“Yes, off Al’s bedroom.”

“Al has a bedroom?” The world spun grey stone and fir tree green.

“Yes, keep up. Picnic tomorrow, alright?” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, kissed me soundly, and left me standing with an empty coffee mug and a still full one—mine—while he directed the order of the Christmas trees into rooms like an orchestra conductor, followed by boughs of firs that must have been a hundred years old before they were cut.

“Alright,” I whispered, only slightly overwhelmed by the over-caffeinated scholar who took over the castle in his brand of intensity I knew by now that wouldn’t wear off until the job was done.

So I planted my butt on the edge of the top step and off to one side, far enough away to let the tree parade pass me by like King Caractacus while I sipped my coffee. The lingering taste of whiskey mingled on my lips, and I savored the flavor of Covin’s last kiss, knowing I had lost him for hours.

But then, I had a picnic to plan.

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