Page 15 of Checked Out by the Grinch
She smiles wide and scrubs her hand between Prancer’s ears. “Thank you but I prefer the term holiday visionary. Speaking of, I’ve got to get over to the bookstore. You two going to be okay here or do you want a ride home?”
“Thanks, but we’ll be okay. I think I’m going to let Kade play for a while. We’ll pick out our tree and call for a ride share.” I lean into my friend for a hug. “I love you and thanks again for watching Kade last night.”
“You can thank me by calling the giant man back.” She shrugs as she turns down the path toward her car. “Either that or let him know I’m running a bachelor auction for Santas.”
For a moment, I let my mind reel with the thought of someone else touching him, someone else whispering in his ear,his thick fingers sliding inside of them.I hate it!“You did that on purpose.”
“I did.” She grins. “Give Kade a kiss for me. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Shaking my head at her, I take Kade by the hand and wander toward the tree barn at the other side of the lot.
Nothing about this place has changed since I was little and I’m loving the little hit of nostalgia. The air still smells like pine, the rows of evergreens still dusted in snow, white lights still strung above the lot with a bright red hand painted sign, a path still marked with candy canes. It’s like the entire farm has stood untouched by time. It’s perfect.
In the center of it all stands the barn. It’s a big red structure with white trim and a massive wreath hanging over the double doors. Inside, strings of lights cast a soft glow over the bales of hay covered with plaid blankets. In the back corner, there’s a stand for hot cider or cocoa, and beyond that are rows of precut trees.
Kade tugs at my hand, eyes wide as he spots a wooden sleigh parked beside a stack of bundled trees. I let him pull me forward, trying to shake the image of Grayson from my mind, but it lingers, and for a second, I wonder what it would be like to have him here with us. I wonder what he’d say, how he’d act, what Kade would think of him.
I shouldn’t let myself go down this road, but my brain is like a spinning top going round and round.
Where would we live? Would we get a little cabin up in the woods? Would we have more kids? Would he show Kade all the things his uncle showed him? Would a man like Grayson be good for us? I know he’d be good for me.
What am I thinking? I barely know him.
I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I wander toward the aisle of discount trees. Kade toddles close behind, his eyes looking heavy from all the fresh air and snow play.
“Which one are you thinking this year? We can choose any tree from this row.”
I cross my fingers that he picks from the end of the line where a two-footer stands for fifteen dollars.
Kade rubs his eyes with his gloves and stares down the row like he’s on a mission. I brace myself, already calculating how to gently redirect him if he falls in love with the six-foot noble fir that doesn’t look like it belongs on the discounted aisle.
He toddles past the tall ones, past the lopsided ones, past the one with a bald patch in the middle. My heart lifts with cautious hope. Then he stops, right in front of the two-footer. “This one,” he says, pointing with a sleepy grin. “It’s little, like me.”
I crouch beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “This one is perfect,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his hat as my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket. I reach for it, figuring it’s the ride share app letting me know our car is here, except it’s not. It’s Grayson, and my heart stalls.
Grayson: Heading over to your place now. I’ve got some news I think you’re going to want to hear in person.
I can’t imagine what he’d have to tell me, but apparently, my heart doesn’t care. I’m just happy to hear from him.
Me: Okay. We should be back soon.
I hold the phone in my palm for another minute, waiting to see if he responds, but my ride share comes first, and suddenly I’m in a hurry to get home.
Chapter Eight
Grayson
I knock twice and stand on the porch in the late afternoon dusk of winter. A moment later, she opens the door with a flurry of cinnamon warmth. Her hair is a wild mess, an apron in place over a Christmas sweater.
“Hey! Come on in.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “I saw you left the money for that banana bread last night, so I thought I’d get started on it. You want to try some?”
The door clicks shut behind me as my mouth salivates. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”
“Good.” She smiles and makes her way toward the kitchen, slicing off a piece of warm bread from a cooling rack. “This was a test loaf. I wanted to make sure I put in the right amount of chocolate chips before I made the whole order.” She hands me a plate. “What do you think?”
I bite into the soft and spongy bread. “Damn,” I groan. “It’s perfect.”
“Dangerous, right? I could eat a whole loaf in one sitting.” She nods toward her son lying belly down on the couch watchingFrosty the Snowmannext to a small unlit tree. “He’s already had two pieces, though he’s not the best critic.”
