Page 4 of Connected By Christmas
He smirks at my look and steps away before hauling the tree over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing. There is nothing adorable about him now as I stare at him. He’s got more scruff on his face than usual, and with the black beanie and the flannel peeking out of from under his black jacket, he’s every bit of a sexy lumberjack.
“I want to take back what I said earlier,” I whisper.
“Which is?” His eyebrow lifts, and his blues brim with amusement.
“The adorable part…I don’t see that now when I look at you. I think I may have a lumberjack fantasy that I didn’t know I had,” I say quietly as I try to swallow past the sexual energy that’s swirling between us now.
His lips quirk up at the corner. “I think that can be arranged. I’ve been eyeing that ax and woodpile next to the house. I might have to chop some wood later. It’s the flannel, isn’t it? I knew when I put it on, it would get you going.” He finally breaks out into a grin, and I swat his arm.
“You had this all planned, didn’t you?” I laugh.
“When can I be a sexy lumberjack in Florida? I had to take advantage of the situation while I have the chance,” he grins. “This sexy lumberjack is going to load the tree…that he cut down with his bare hands, I might add,” he winks at me, “and get you something warm to drink. I think I saw a hot chocolate stand when we first came in that has your name on it.”
“Hot chocolate and my very own sexy lumberjack? You spoil me, Mr. Noah Bennett.”
“Any chance I can get, Mrs. Bennett,” he kisses the tip of my cold nose before leading the way back to the truck.
With the Christmas tree secure in the back of the truck, we start walking around the tree farm. It’s grown a lot since I was younger. They’ve added several more vendors and have created a small Christmas village inside their pine-covered forest. My hands wrap around the warm cup of hot chocolate as we wander around and look at all the tables.
“I love the smell of pine.” I trail my fingers over the homemade wreaths and garlands made from the trimmings of the trees.
“I do, too. There’s nothing better than a real tree to make your home smell like Christmas.” Noah picks up a wreath with a gold bow on it. “We should get this for our front door and somegarland for the mantle,” he says, walking over to the strands of pine hanging in the corner.
“I agree,” I smile, picking out the garland that matches with the small gold bows and pinecones woven into it. “This will look beautiful above our fireplace,” I grin excitedly.
We pick out a few more items and make small talk with the young girl behind the counter as she rings up our things. Like everyone else who works here, she’s wearing a cute elf outfit, making it more magical for the kids.
“Do you mind if we leave our bags behind the counter? I have a few things lined up for my wife,” Noah asks the girl.
“Not at all,” she says, taking the bags and setting them down behind her. “They will be right here waiting for you when you are done. You guys have fun,” she smiles at us before helping the next person in line.
“What other things do you have lined up for your wife?” I ask, curious about what he has up his sleeve now.
“You’ll see,” he grins, taking my hand. He leads us past the vendor tables toward a small barn withSanta’s Workshoppainted on a wooden sign. We step inside, and more people dressed like elves are busy helping children make Christmas tree ornaments to take home. The barn has been transformed with white lights and hanging snowflakes from the rafters.
Santa sits in a big red velvet chair along the back wall in front of a group of kids sitting on a fur rug. Mrs. Claus is sitting next to him on a matching chair with a book in her hand.
“I know how much you love storytime with kids, so I thought we could sit in on this one. They read to the children every day around this hour.”
An elf comes rushing over when she sees us, excitement clearly written across their face. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet you, Mrs. Hunter. My daughter has all your books and doesn’t want me to read anything else to her at bedtime,” shelaughs. “I’ve set up a spot over here for you both to sit while Mrs. Claus reads to the children.”
Confused, I give a sideways look to my husband, who just grins and winks at me. She used my pen name, Emma Hunter, which means she knows who I am. I’ve always wanted to be a children’s author for as long as I can remember. I set aside my dreams, though, letting my ex-boyfriend's thoughts and doubts mess with my head. After my parent’s death, I came across all the notes I had written down for books, so when I moved to Florida, I vowed to have a fresh start and give myself this chance at writing.
When I met Noah, he fully supported and believed in me. He’s a best-selling romance author, so he knows what it takes. Unlike me, he prefers to remain anonymous. Besides close friends and family, no one in our small town knows that the local handyman and home renovator is Beck Hunter, the author. So far, they haven’t connected the dots with our married pen names, even though Beck Hunter is a huge donor to our local library funding the children’s program I run there. It’s our little secret, and to be honest, it’s been very fun keeping this to ourselves.
I thought about remaining anonymous, but I enjoy meeting the children and doing story hours with them too much not to be involved. With my last book release,Emma Hunterhas officially become a household name. My third book in the series has done very well and has gotten my name out more than I ever thought possible.
“When your husband called us and said you would be in town, I couldn’t believe my ears. I never thought Emma Hunter would be attending our little book reading here.”
“Of course, I’m excited to be here,” I smile warmly at her, playing along like I know what she is talking about. We sit down on the chairs off to the side of Santa, and he glances our way,giving me a smile. I have to say they did a very good job picking this one. He looks exactly like every Santa picture I’ve seen, with his full white beard and rosy cheeks. His eyes even sparkle like he knows the world’s biggest secret, and the excitement is too big to contain it all. I can’t help but feel the joy of Christmas as I look at him with a grin on my face.
“I’ve got all the books you donated on the table over there,” she says, pointing to the display, “and anything else you might need for the signing. We can’t thank you enough for your donation. The kids are going to be so excited when they learn they get a signed copy to bring home today. Mrs. Claus will help you pass them out. She has treats to go along with them.”
“You’re welcome,” Noah says, smiling at her. “Emma loves meeting the children, so we are excited to be here. It’s not every day Mr. and Mrs. Claus get to read your book.” The elf beams at me one last time before walking back over to the art tables to clean up.
“You put this whole thing together? How did you even know they did this?” I glance at Mrs. Claus as she talks to all the kids now gathered around her. Parents are lined up along the back walls, sipping on coffee and hot chocolate as they quietly talk amongst themselves.
“It was on their website,” he grins. “I saw that they do story hour every day with Mrs. Claus, so I made a phone call. They were beyond excited to have you attend and even more thrilled when I sent them copies for you to sign. I know it’s one of your favorite parts about being an author. Your face lights up when you attend these book readings and get to meet all the children who love your books.”
