Page 69 of Always Mine

It takes us about fifteen minutes until we finally arrive at our destination, and even though it’s not what I had in mind, I can’t deny the little jolt of giddiness that courses through me.“A Christmas tree farm?”

My voice comes out a little squeaky, my excitement unable to be toned down, but Paxton doesn’t comment. Instead, he just chuckles as he parks the truck. “You mentioned at the carnival that you didn’t have your tree up yet. I figured I could give you a hand with that.”

“This is awesome,” I admit honestly, already itching to get out of the truck. “I was just going to throw up my fake tree.”

Paxton gasps, causing my attention to snap to him. He looks taken aback, hand pressed to his chest with eyes as big as saucers. “You didnotjust say the f-word.” Hetsks, removing his seat belt and pushing open his door. “Nope, we’re going to pick out our tree, and then when we get back to your house, I’m throwing that away. How dare you insult Christmas with such an abomination?”

“Still as dramatic as ever, I see,” I tease as he hops out and comes around to my side, opening my door for me.

“I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m appalled.” Letting out a long sigh, he motions for me to walk. “Come on, we must hurry.”

Okay then. My brows furrow, but I do as instructed. “Where’s the fire?”

“Don’t you know?” He leans in to whisper, “Every time a person mentions a fake tree a Christmas fairy loses its magic. We must prevent that insanity.” He does some weird fist pump thing on the last word, and all I can do is stare at him. Yup, he’s lost it.

“The only thing insane right now is you and your theatrics.”

He gives me a little finger wag. “Believe what you want, but I’m telling you it’s the truth.”

“He is, you know,” a little girl around the age of seven chimes in from behind us, fists braced on her hips as she glares at me. I’d find it quite terrifying if it wasn’t for the lopsided green bow on her head and the bright red Rudolph nose resting on her face.

I hold my hands up in surrender, unable to believe I’m being scolded by a child. “I apologize. I will definitely take that into consideration the next time I mention the f-word.”

“Very good. I won’t have to tell Santa to put you on the naughty list,” she says, nodding smugly before running off to where her mom is waiting near the food truck.

“Cute kid,” I mutter, turning to where Paxton is keeled over, laughing hysterically. “Oh, yeah, laugh it up.”

“I’m s–sorry,” he manages, standing fully and swiping at his eyes. “I can’t believe you were reprimanded by a child.” He bursts into laughter again, all the while I’m glaring at him. “She even threatened to tell Santa on you… I can’t.” He’s bent forward once more, hands braced on his knees, and I’m about ready to chop him in the throat.

“Are you done?” I growl out, folding my arms over my chest. “I mean, it’s notthatfunny.”

“Oh, no. It’s hilarious, and I can’t wait to tell everyone about it.”

I should have expected that. He’s such a dick. “Whatever.”

I walk past him, shoving my hands in my pockets as the winter air bites my skin. I should have brought some gloves but I didn’t think we were spending our time outside.

“You know that was funny!” he yells, running to catch up with me. “If the roles were reversed, you’d have been laughing too.”

He’s not wrong, but I refuse to tell him that. Instead, I head to the food truck, getting in line behind Satan’s little helper. No way this child is on the nice list, and when she turns around and cuts me with another glare, I know I’m right. Demon spawn.

Paxton is trying really hard to keep his laughter under control beside me, but he’s doing a terrible job. I’m trying to ignore him but end up smiling instead and then sucking on my lips to hold back the chuckle that wants to break free.

“God, you’re the worst,” I finally say after Satan’s child and her mom walk away.

“I really tried to hold it back, but did you see the way she was looking at you?” His voice is light, eyes squinty, looking every bit the charming Paxton I’ve always loved. The audacity of this guy to look like this when I’m trying so hard to be irritated.

“What can I get you?” the girl behind the counter asks, and I put my ogling of Paxton on the back burner.

“A hot chocolate and cheese danish,” I tell her, turning to Paxton. “Want anything?”

He bobs his head, looking over the menu quickly. “I’ll have the same thing, but a chocolate Danish instead, please.”

“No problem. That’ll be sixteen even.”

I pull out my wallet, prepared to hand her some cash, but Paxton beats me to it, forking over a twenty. “Keep the change.”

She takes the money, giving him an appreciative look before going to make our stuff.

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