Page 63 of Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm
No wonder he was so grouchy when I first arrived. No wonder he was irritated and incredulous and wanted to know how I’d won the auction with mere seconds left on the clock. And I was stupid enough to believe he was just making conversation.
He must have hated me. Peppermint Branches means the world to him, and this clueless girl turns up having snatched it literally from underneath his fingers. I swan in and nonchalantly tell him I was drunk and didn’t have a clue about Christmas tree farming and I’d won the auction without even trying. I know Noel. I know how seriously he would’ve taken that auction. How much he would have got his hopes up when there were no other bids until the last few minutes. He would’ve pinned everything on winning that.
And then I ripped his dream away from him. He must’ve been heartbroken. Devastated.
He must have wanted it back.
He even told me that his father wanted to buy Evergreene out one day and run both farms together and I still didn’t fall in. Those two farms are his life, his love. His heart. It’s not me who’s given his heart back to him – it’s working on Peppermint Branches again. Helping me, supposedly. But why would anyone do that? Why would he help me so much, teach me so much, when he must hate me for stealing the farm he wanted? I thought he was doing it out of kindness because he could see I was out of my depth. But if it’s that simple, why didn’t he tell me about the auction?
Fiona clicks her fingers in front of my face like she’s waiting for a response to a question she’s asked several times.
‘Oh, er, yes,’ I mumble, hoping it was the right answer. I feel like I’m floating above the market, looking down on everything through a fog. In the few weeks I’ve been here, I’ve grown to trust Noelcompletely, and now I feel like the metaphorical rug has been physically pulled out from underneath me.
‘We definitely need you to share a stall next year,’ Fiona is saying. ‘Magical things happen when you two work together. He’s never sold as many pumpkins as he has this year and look at how many Christmas trees you’ve sold today. It’s simply wonderful.’
The gingerbread biscuit hangs limp in my fingers. ‘It’s great,’ I croak out. My voice is raspy and my throat is dry. I can barely get my words out, and I’m not sure if I want to cry or scream or both.
They share another glance like they’re not sure what’s wrong with me. ‘Do you want a hand with those pumpkins? You didn’t bring a bag to carry them back in.’
I look down at myself like I might accidentally have a carrier bag attached to my person. ‘No, it’s fine. They can stay until tomorrow.’
‘Noel usually clears them up. They start to go off.’
‘Let them rot.’
Fergus’s eyebrows shoot up so fast that they nearly meet his rapidly decreasing hairline.
‘I mean, until tomorrow,’ I say quickly. I can’t let them know I’m upset or give them any reason to think they’ve said the wrong thing or go and tell Noel that I know. ‘First thing, when I come to replace them. It’s been a long day, I just want to get home to bed, and it’ll be quieter tomorrow, there’ll be plenty of time.’
‘I bet there are plenty ofreasonsto get home to your bed tonight, hmm?’ Fiona puts such a clear emphasis on what she thinks will be going on in bed tonight that even Fergus blushes.
‘And on that note, we’re going to go for a cuppa before Fergus gets overexcited andweend up spending the evening in the A&E department. Have a good night!’ She slips her arm through Fergus’s as they walk off towards the hot drinks counter and I watch as he tucks her arm in against his side and tugs her closer.
I should be excited to rush back and tell Noel about that adorable display of affection, but everything’s different now. This changes it all. I sink back onto my knees as I watch them disappear around the corner and the tears come without my permission. My hair has fallen down again and I pull it forwards to hide my face and concentrate on picking the dropped needles out of it.
The stall. His kindness in allowing me to share his stall. The way he even used his winner’s speech today to push Peppermint Branches. I thought he was being nice to talk aboutmybusiness. Isn’t he just making sure that he’s got plenty of customers for when he inevitably takes over?
I always used to think that people are only nice to you if they want something, and Noel’s the one who’s been changing that, who’s made me have a bit of faith in people again. How can I have come to trust him so much in such a short amount of time? Why was I so hypnotised by his piercing and his hair that I didn’t stop to question his motives?
Everything he’s done must’ve had a purpose behind it. Gorgeous, funny, warm guys like him don’t fall for plain emotional wrecks like me – they see a weakness and they exploit it. Like Steve did. Noel certainly saw my weakness in the car on that first night, and he grabbed his opportunity. He didn’t win the auction, but he saw a chance to wrestle the farm back from my grasp. That’s why he changed so much. Not because we had a connection or because he liked me, but because he saw an opportunity to gain my trust, to ‘help’ me, because I was so clueless and grateful for his advice that I never stopped to questionwhyhe was helping me or if the advice he gave was sound.
And now I know he’s been lying all along.
It’s a genius plan, really. Keep your enemies closer and all that. He’s shown me everything, from what trees to cut to how to propagate seedlings for future years, and I’ve trusted him blindly. But how do I know if anything he’s said is true? How do I know if he’s told me the opposite of what I should be doing, so he can swoop in and takeover like a hero when it all inevitably falls apart? What if the only thing he’s been helping me to do is run the farm into the ground so I’ll have no choice but to give up and sell it on to him?
Chapter 15
‘Where’s the “Hot Scot Pumpkin Farmer Who Looks Like Luke Evans” you keep texting me about then?’ Chelsea asks through the phone.
‘I don’tkeeptexting you about him,’ I say. ‘I’ve barely mentioned him.’
‘You’ve barely mentioned himtoday. Is he there? Can you put him on and make him say “murrrderrr” a few times for me?’
No matter how much I don’t feel like laughing, a giggle escapes at the idea. Noel would laugh. And be all too happy to oblige. ‘He’s not here.’
She makes a noise of disappointment. ‘Where is he, then? Sawing down trees topless? Toplessly dragging stumps out of the earth with his bare hands?’
‘Why does he have to be topless?’
