Page 50 of Four More The Merrier

"I'm down, as long as you promise me hot chocolate."

"That's my girl." He bumps my shoulder with his. "Grab your coat. Operation Christmas Cheer is a go."

The rental truck bounces over another pothole, and Lyle curses under his breath. Snow dusts the windshield as we climb higher into the mountains, the heater barely keeping up with the December chill.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Lyle drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "That time Beau tried to convince us all to go camping."

"How'd that work out?"

"Jarron lasted exactly forty-three minutes before he started complaining about no cell service."

I pull my jacket tighter. "Sounds about right."

The tree farm appears around the bend, rows of evergreens dusted with fresh powder. A wooden sign creaks in the wind: "Miller's Mountain Christmas Trees."

"This is perfect." Lyle parks next to an old red pickup. "Small enough selection that we won't be here all day, but big enough that we're not stuck with whatever reject is left."

We crunch through the snow, weaving between trees. The scent of pine fills my nose, bringing back memories of childhood Christmases.

"How about this one?" I point to a scraggly spruce.

"Quinn, that thing looks like it's been through rehab twice."

"Fine, tree expert. You pick."

He leads me down another row, stopping at a modest fir about two feet tall. "Now this - this is our tree. Full enough to hold ornaments, small enough to fit through the bus door."

"It's actually kind of perfect."

"Well, get to sawing lumberjack." I say with a smile.

The tree farm'sfirepit crackles as Lyle stabs another marshmallow onto his stick. Smoke curls around us, carrying the sweet scent of burning sugar and pine.

"So," he says, rotating his marshmallow with surgical precision. "You and Beau, huh?"

I poke at the flames with my stick. "What about me and Beau? We're just friends." I hope "I slept with your bandmate" isn't secretly tattooed on my forehead.

"Come on, Quinn. I've known that giant teddy bear for years. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

"And how's that?"

"Like you're his favorite song." He pulls his perfectly golden marshmallow from the fire. "The kind you never get tired of hearing."

Heat floods my cheeks, and it's not from the fire. "That's... surprisingly poetic coming from you."

"I have my moments." He sandwiches the marshmallow between graham crackers. "Just don't tell the others. I've got a reputation to maintain."

A couple walks past our fire pit, their voices carrying on the wind. "We should head out soon, honey. Weather report says there's freezing rain coming."

"How long till it hits?"

"Couple hours, maybe less."

Lyle's eyes meet mine over the flames. "Well, shit. That complicates things."

"What do you mean?"

"Getting that tree back to the bus without turning into human popsicles." He dusts graham cracker crumbs from his hands. "Plus, if the roads ice over, we might have trouble with tomorrow's show."

---