Page 11 of Never Sleigh Never

“My apologies,” I say, now regretting the fact I brought up the five-year age gap between us.

“You’re not that much older than me,” she retorts, rolling her eyes.

I grunt noncommittally, although I’m glad she thinks that. I turn back to staple gunning the strand of lights onto one of the vendor booths I built at lunch.

“You know,” Cara says after a moment, her voice softer, “I always wondered why you don’t get into the holiday spirit,anymore. Back then, your father always went all out decorating the store, and he had the Christmas tree lot back here.” She gestures around, and I can picture it like it was yesterday. The dozens of trees would take over half the lot from Thanksgiving weekend until they were sold out.

I tense, not wanting the conversation to take this turn.

“Christmas isn’t really my thing,” I mutter, hoping she gets the hint.

She doesn’t.

“But why?” she presses.

I sigh, stapling the strand a few more times just to buy myself a minute. “It’s not that I don’t like Christmas,” I admit gruffly. “Just…lost its shine, I guess.”

Cara sets down her brush, giving me her full attention, her eyebrows pulled together in a V as if she can’t imagine how in the world that could happen. Sure enough, “How could that happen?”

My jaw clenches, and I’m torn, debating how much to share.

“The holidays are when we lost my dad,” I confess quietly, glancing up at the starry night sky. “I was twenty-one.”

Understanding dawns in those emerald eyes. “Oh, Thomas. I’m so sorry. I didn’t remember it was this time of year.”

I shrug, uncomfortable with her sympathy. “It was a long time ago.”

“Still,” she says softly, moving closer. “That must have been really hard.”

Her proximity is unsettling. She smells faintly of peppermint, a scent I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since she breezed into the store on Monday morning.

“It was what it was,” I say, focusing on the lights in hand. “Had to keep the store running, take care of Mom, who was devastated, of course. Christmas just…wasn’t the same anymore.”

Cara nods, her eyes full of an understanding I wasn’t expecting. “Family is everything.”

I look at her sharply, the wistful tone in her voice, edging toward sorrow, cinches my chest as tight as a ratchet strap around a load of lumber.

“Maybe, it’s time we stop living in the past…or the future,” she says, “and make the most of today before we get ahead of ourselves.”

She seems to be talking to herself as much as to me, but I shake my head. “Glad to hear it because I thought for a minute there you were already trying to rope me into helping again next year—”

A giggle erupts from her chest, cutting me off. “Oh, I’m counting on that. After all, you’re half the committee.”

“Cara,” I say, my voice stern but lacking bite.

“Just think of all the Magnolia Point families who’ll be able to make the Main Street Holiday Festival a tradition again,” she says, as if it’s a done deal. How does she know exactly what to say to appeal to the responsibility I feel for our community?

“I can’t wait to make my own holiday traditions someday,” she continues wistfully, fiddling with the paintbrush in her hand. “With a family of my own, you know?”

An image of her boyfriend leaps to mind, and the thought of the two of them making a baby together knots my gut. I turn back to the task at hand, only acknowledging her comment with a noncommittal grunt.

“Do you want a family, Thomas?” she presses, and when I look up, there’s a glow about her that makes it seem as if the tangle of lights in my hand just got plugged in.

I don’t want to admit I hadn’t really given much thought to starting a family until recently. Very recently. “Yeah,” I admit, with a sigh. “I do.”

With that, we fall into a comfortable silence, working side by side as we finish up the painting and light stringing. But I’m hyperaware of her presence, the graceful movement of her hands and the gentle sway of her hips.

A deep yawn interrupts the music as it nears one o’clock. I should call it a night, but I’m reluctant to break the spell surrounding us for the past few hours.

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