Page 48 of Booked for the Holidays
“Hardly. You’ve met my daughter; the kid smiles at anything. I could’ve said the word ‘dog’ nineteen times in a row and she would’ve laughed. It was nice, though, those quiet moments we got to spend together.”
I sit back, relaxing. A Bowie song begins on the radio. “Heroes.” I smile at the tune, one of my favorites. Theo’s fingers shift to the steering wheel and drum over the stitching, the beat memorized. His lips mouth along to the lyrics, like he’s sung it a hundred times before.
This is the first time we’ve been alone together outside the stores. When I texted him earlier and proposed the plan, I didn’t expect him to agree. He probably had a dozen other things he could have done tonight instead of picking out trees with me.
But here we are. Side by side. His arm inches away from mine. The breeze kicking up those brown locks and whipping them across his forehead in an unruly manner. The hint of a smile on his face as the music switches to Led Zeppelin.
I can’t help but think this is the most handsome he’s ever looked. The most laid back, too. Maybe the two go together, getting to witness a man letting loose on a very rare occasion in his busy life is wildly attractive. There’s a tingle zipping through me with all of these observations. A throb between my legs as I wonder how the scruff of his cheek would feel against my inner thighs. How would his hand look in mine? What would those tattoos look like under the light of the moon, wrapped in bed sheets of silk?
I’m not sure what’s different. I’m not sure what’s changed. Perhaps it’s the warmth radiating from him and raising my body temperature like a burning furnace. Maybe it’s the realization of knowing I don’thaveto talk to him, but I can if I want. The simple understanding we’re both content to justbe, the road in front of us and the peaceful, easy enjoyment of the person by our side.
Whatever the explanation, whatever the cause, I like it. I like the shift from cordial strangers to feeling like I know him, deeply, in some way. I like this relaxed version of him. A smile, a slide of his glasses, the brush of his shirt against mine. Street lamps above illuminating his eyes. There’s a glitter of a twinkle, just barely, but enough to know he’s happy to be here.
So am I.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” I say, the first to break the silence. “I really appreciate it.”
“What’s the idea behind six trees? You and Mac already decorated one, so it’ll be seven total?”
“My thought process was ‘why not’? Why not have seven trees and line them up in a little tree trail? Each person in the store is going to decorate one. That’s four trees. I also wanted customers to be able to participate while they browse the shop. I cut out little book shaped ornaments so they can write their favorite titles out and attach it to the branches.”
“That’s a cool idea. Okay, that’s five. What are you going to do with the last one?”
“It’s open-ended for now.”
“But you already decided to buy it?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to describe without sounding silly. When I was falling asleep and counting them, my brain kept saying:no. You need six, not five. Somewhere down the road, I’m going to find a place for that tree. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But I will.”
Theo glances at me from across the truck. “That’s not silly.”
“It’s not?”
“No. You have this unique way of finding a purpose for things, Bridget. This whole contest you’ve shifted away from the mindset of beating the other stores to getting the chance to show off things we find special. And that’s really cool.”
A short drive later, we pull up to a tree lot on the edge of Park Cove. It’s a little cooler out here, away from the city center. It’s quieter and darker, too, the sounds of nature more noticeable than the clank of a car puttering over the brick road through downtown. I jump out of the truck and inhale, welcomed by scents of pine and wood shavings. Theo follows behind me as we approach the first of many tents, ready to begin our search.
“I’ll admit I was expecting an offering of a dozen trees, maybe, not hundreds. What am I looking for? What’s the criteria? Do you have a rubric?”
“Nope. No rubric. I liked the one Mac and I put together. It leaned a little to the left. It was a little wobbly. It wasn’t perfect, but it still looked good.”
“Left learners,” he confirms with a nod, like I’ve given him the most vital piece of information. “We might be here all night.”
* * *
Two hoursand seven trees later, we’ve successfully wrangled all of my purchases into the trunk of Theo’s truck.
We’re panting from exertion. With as much stealth as I can muster, I tell Theo I’ll be right back, making up a flimsy excuse about needing to grab one last thing from the lot. I take in Theo’s shirt as I retreat, stained and ripped at the collar. My own arms are covered in sap and pine needles. I have red scratches on my legs, below the cuff of my denim shorts, after insisting I could lift a fifty-pound tree by myself. Theo had stood back and let me try, arms crossed and head shaking. After I gritted out his name and a fewgoddammitsandmother fuckers, he finally intervened. Lifting the object with ease, he proclaimed throughtuts andtsks that he wasn’t the only stubborn one.
The marks on our limbs and stains on our clothes only serve as evidence of how much fun we’ve had. We strolled down a candy cane pathway lining the rows of trees. Families came and went; some in matching sweaters, some arguing. A few groups sipped hot chocolate, pausing for a photo in front of a reindeer display. Jubilant laughter rang through the air like bells. Theo and I had a solid ten-minute argument about the most underrated Christmas song. He was willing to die on a hill for “Merry Christmas Everybody” by Slade. I proclaimed “I Wish it Could be Christmas Everyday” by Wizzard is the real dark horse of the season. He stared at me, flabbergasted, and shook his head in disappointment. Bickering aside, it was the first time this year I truly felt the holiday season upon us.
There were twinkling lights and some humming along to “Jingle Bell Rock.” Fake snow falling on our heads and a large wooden sleigh I forced Theo to sit in as I took his photo. When I tried to shove a Santa hat on his head, he plucked the article of clothing from my hand and threw it in the trash, grumbling under his breath.
The best part of the night wasn’t the festiveness. Wasn’t the holiday tunes or the free wreath the cashier added to my purchase after I spent so much money.
It was Theo.
A totally out-of-his-element, living-in-the-moment,funTheo.
