Page 58 of Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm
I giggle nervously because sleep is the last thing on my mind too. But given how much I want to straddle him again and pick up where we left off, I force myself to be the sensible adult that I supposedly am, and tear myself away. ‘Come on. I can see how tired you are and it’s well past two o’clock now. My alarm’s set for five and I know you well enough to know that yours will be even earlier.’
He grunts as I disentangle our hands and place his gently back on his lap before I push myself upright and step out of the sleigh.
‘I’m not sure if I love you more for making me feel like this or for taking care of me.’ His head is still resting on the back of the bench, his eyes are closed and his voice is slurred and sleepy.
The empty mugs clang together as I gather them up, the noise making me jump as much as the words do. Obviously it’s just a figure of speech. He doesn’t love me at all, not for either reason. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. I chew my lip as I stand there watching him, waiting for him to jump up and frantically backpedal, but he doesn’t move.
He’s too tired to have his defences up and it makes me smile to myself because Noel not constantly guarding himself and second-guessing his every word is as rare as a red banana.
I put the empty mugs back on the tool cupboard by the door and pick up the empty biscuit packet, loving that between us we’ve polished off the whole lot and thought nothing of it. There’s nothing better than a man who can appreciate a good biscuit.
I crouch down to give Gizmo a head scruffle because he’s heard the clang and is watching me move around the barn from the comfort of his warm basket. I go over and stand on the right-hand side of the sleigh and lean over to push Noel’s thigh. ‘Come on, you. You’re asleep already. Do I need to take you home and tuck you into bed?’
His eyes shoot open and he blinks in the light from the barn’s single bare bulb. ‘That shouldn’t be such a sexy prospect.’ He gets to his feet and jumps down the step onto solid ground, and runs a hand over the edge he was sanding when I came in. ‘This was supposed to be a surprise. Sorry I woke you and made you come out here and see it early.’
‘Well, I’m glad I did, because otherwise you’dstillbe working on it, hungry and dehydrated, and you’d be exhausted in the morning.’ I step closer to him and bump my shoulder against his upper arm. ‘And you’re making me asleigh, Noel. That’s …’ There are no suitable words for how amazing that is or how touched I am. ‘That’s unfathomable. I can’t imagine how anyone could make this. You are so incredibly talented, and—’
He wraps both arms around me and pulls me tight against his chest. His grey hoodie is open and the black cable-knit jumper underneath is soft against my skin and smells of fabric conditioner and wood dust. His chest is wide and strong and as solid as it’s always looked. It should be illegal to be this gorgeous, warm, funny, and kind-hearted to boot.
‘You’d even hug me to get out of hearing a compliment,’ I say into his chest.
‘I can stop if you’re complaining,’ he murmurs against my hair, not sounding like he has any intention of stopping.
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him too, just in case he has any doubts about how I’d happily stand here hugging him for the rest of the week.
Without breaking the hug, he starts carefully manoeuvring us towards the door, one step at a time, until his leg bumps against the tool cabinet and knocks the mugs together again.
He turns his head to the side and calls, ‘Giz, bedtime!’ I look over my shoulder to see Gizmo give him a doggy glare, huff, and then reluctantly step out of his basket and have a lazy stretch like he’s got all the time in the world.
Noel turns us again, and I can feel him fumbling for the door, but we stumble and it swings open under our weight, and we fall out of it and into … snow.
‘Well, that woke me up.’ He’s trying to sound grumpy but his eyes are bright as he looks around.
I push myself up from where I’ve landed on top of him and get to my feet. ‘It’s snowing!’
He sits up on the quickly whitening grass and looks at me, a smile playing around his lips. ‘You act like you’ve never seen snow before.’
‘I lived in the centre of London, Noel. It’s a rare sight. We don’t even get it when the rest of the UK does.’ I reach out my hand and haul him up. ‘I knew there’d be snow here!’
‘Well, this is Scotland, we do get snow.’
‘Oh, stop trying to be grumpy. It’s the first snow on a Christmas tree farm. Anyone would be excited.’ My feet crunch into the thin layer of freshly fallen white stuff covering the short grass outside the barn, and the few pumpkins that remain on the vines in Noel’s fields are stark orange against their white carpets and the increasing white hats atop their green leaves.
I skip around him, kicking up what little snow has settled so it looks like he’s standing in a summoning circle before I turn my head to the sky and stick my tongue out, trying to catch a few snowflakes.
‘How could anyone be grumpy around you?’ he murmurs, and the affection in his voice makes me stop and look at him. He shakes himself. ‘Apart from Gizmo, obviously. He hates getting his feet cold.’
We both look over at the barn, where Gizmo is sitting in the doorway shivering, looking between us and then longingly back at his basket. The expression on his face leaves no doubt that he thinks we’re a pair of complete lunatics.
I hear Noel move behind me, and I really should have realised what he’s doing, but I don’t until a snowball hits me in the back.
I squeal in surprise. ‘You didn’t!’
His eyes are watering with laughter and I immediately start scraping snow up to make my own, lobbing it at him and giggling when he ducks easily. I grab another handful and throw that one in his general direction and miss, until he stands still, letting me get a hit in, and laughing harder as itstillsails past him. He’s laughing so hard he almost can’t see to gather another handful of snow, compacting it properly into a ball and holding it up, giving me a chance to prepare myself, and this time, I manage to duck at the right moment and it hits the side of the barn, breaking apart and sending snow scattering in all directions. Some of it lands near Gizmo’s feet, and he looks at it disdainfully and plods back inside to the safety of his cosy basket.
The snow has barely started and there’s not enough for a snowball fight – we’ve already exhausted our supply and fighting with Noel is nowhere near as appealing as hugging him again. I reach up to brush snowflakes out of his hair and he scrubs a hand over his face. ‘You must’ve put something in that tea. That’s the only explanation for any of this.’
‘Or there’s another patch of those dodgy mushrooms around here somewhere?’
