“Hey.” He interrupted her thinking by brushing his thumb across the crease she was sure lined her forehead. “Stop overthinking, remember?”
“Trying here. I’m trying,” she insisted.
He smirked. “With you I have a feeling that’s like asking a fish not to swim.”
She nodded exaggeratedly. “Exactly.”
“Well, my little overthinking beauty, what do you say after chores we decorate the Christmas tree?” he asked.
“You? You decorate for Christmas?” She was not expecting that. She was really not expecting him to offer that.
He nodded. “Every Friday after Thanksgiving. Black Friday shopping? No thanks. I put up my tree, and if I feel extra frisky, maybe the outdoor lights too.”
“Wow.”
“Wow, what?” he asked.
“There’s just so much about you that surprises me,” she said honestly as she folded one of the blankets they slept in and put it over the back of the couch.
He was almost to the kitchen, going to get ready for chores, but he turned back around and lazily leaned against the doorframe. “Right back at you, Jordyn. Right back at you.”
They just looked at each other for a long moment, probably both wondering what the heck they were doing. Probably both wondering how they ever got to this point. Probably both not wanting to consider that her time here was almost done. This, whatever this was, was on a timer that would eventually go off.
****
“What, no axe?”
He tried not to roll his eyes at her as he heaved the large tree bag into the living room after manhandling it up the stairs from the basement. They had cleared the rocking-chair area where Mable usually slept and were ready for the tree. The power was back on, more than likely for good, so they didn’t need to rely on the fire as much as they had. But knowing how much she hated being cold, he still always made sure to have one going for her.
“Seriously. You’ve got the rest of the lumberjack look going for ya,” she teased.
He felt his eyebrows go up and tried not to smile with her. “Which is what exactly?”
“You know . . . . Muscles? Flannel shirts? Facial hair? Can chop wood or take down a tree? Easy on the eyes but hard on the hormones?” she asked with a blush.
“I suppose so, then,” he said with an amused eye-roll. “But, lumberjack or not, I do not cut down any of my trees for my Christmas tree. I need that tree belt on the north side of the farm as a shelter for storms like these, so unless it’s a small one that isn’t going to survive anyway, I try to leave those trees to grow as big and healthy as they please.”
“Huh,” she said thoughtfully. “Makes sense. A little hippie but makes sense.”
He snorted at that.
The banter continued as they got the tree standing. It only needed to be put together in three parts, and he didn’t even need a ladder for the nine-foot tree because his six-foot-four frame could reach it. Even the star he carefully placed on top.
They plugged in the lights, added a few extra strands, and got to work on the decorating. She hooked and handed him the balls and other ornaments, and he placed them around the top since he could reach it—and she clearly could not. He made sure to accidentally brush her hand as many times as possible, just wanting to be near her. And he thought it was cute as hell the way she handed the ornaments to him in a pattern, to be sure that the red balls weren’t all in one place.
While they worked, she asked about the farm, and he asked her about her job and why she liked working for AgGroSo. She explained to him the parts she liked, mainly working for Walt and access to steady income, something her mother never had. It was an easy conversation, but a tough one when it kept reminding him that she was going to have to leave eventually.
“So if they are doing so well and have doubled in size already, why do they think they have to have me for the stupid commercial anyway?” he asked. “I’ll give it to Walt—he’s relentless. But I thought the company was doing just fine on their own?”
“They are.” She nodded aggressively. “It was marketing’s idea from the moment they found out you were a customer, and they can’t seem to let it go. We spent a pretty penny on our time slot, and we need for that commercial to be as powerful as possible. Having a big name—having a household football name attached to our brand during the biggest football game of the year—would make our commercial more efficient.” She stopped to sigh. “And it’s not like we’re just paying you to be the face of the company like actors and actresses do all the time with zero interest in using the actual products. You do actually use our stuff. It’s more authentic that way.”
He nodded, understanding now why they wanted him specifically. He was probably their only famous customer. Not many retired athletes became farmers. “Makes sense.”
She smiled tentatively. “Why? Having second thoughts, Harper?”
He fired right back, “Are you working right now or just asking as a friend, Houston?”
She shrugged innocently. “Yes? To both?”
He laughed and elbowed her softly. “I still really don’t want to be in the commercial. If you got to stick around for longer, it doesn’t seem so bad though. I just don’t want my face plastered on anything, if that makes sense. Some guys totally overdo it with the endorsements. The sports drinks, shoe deals, cereal boxes even . . . it just seems so . . . fake. I don’t like the concept of using my face to sell a product. Not just because I’m retired and washed up, or even because of the stupid nickname . . . I just never did.”
She turned to him with her eyes bright, with an idea so good it looked like it was ready to jump out of her short frame. She reached for his forearm, but when she did, she dropped the sparkly gold ball in her hand.
She went to catch it before it shattered all over the hardwood floor, but he beat her to it. And he caught it before it broke, of course.
Ha. He still had it after all these years.
“Nice catch,” she said breathlessly, now in his arms and way too close to not do something about it.
He had caught the ball and managed to get her into his arms. A damn nice catch. As he leaned in for the kill, he whispered, “Don’t look now but there’s mistletoe.”
“No there’s not,” she whispered playfully but didn’t panic. She didn’t pull away this time. She let him pull her in until their lips crashed into one another.
****
One kiss. How could one kiss be so . . . good? Granted, she was nervous, but she had been kissed before, so it’s not like it was that big of a deal. And she had had plenty of first kisses . . . . Well, okay, maybe just six or seven if she was being honest. Some were short and sweet. Some were slobbery and disastrous. But that kiss. That kiss single-handedly proved to her why he was called Heartbreak Harper. One of those kisses and she was just sure she would like to do nothing more than repeat the experience. Over and over and over again.
She was pretty sure he had enjoyed it too. At one point he chucked the ball—the one he had freakishly caught in his hands—onto the couch, so both of his hands were free to wrap around her and bring her in closer.
By the end of it, he mumbled something about being a gentleman and removed his hand from her hair and the other from around her body and took a huge step back. She had to physically pry her fingers off his T-shirt.
Both taking heavy breaths, now a few feet apart, she busted out laughing.
“This is funny? That made you feel like laughing? I feel many, many things right now, but laughing is not one of them.”
She laughed even harder at the look on his face. “No. It’s just . . . I mean . . .” She paused, the laughter consuming her. “Okay, first it was the whipped cream that may or may not have been there, now fake mistletoe.” She was laughing so hard again she had to stop to breathe. “You are, in fact, the most resourceful man I have ever met.”
He walked back over to the couch to pick up the ball he had thrown and gave her a cocky smile. “Damn right, sweetheart.”
She got back to work on the tree, though neither of them seemed as into the decorating as before the kissing. They were both distracted. By each other.
“And what were you going to say anyway, before you attacked me like a teenager? It looked important.” He grinned as he took another ornament from her.
“Oh, so I am the teenager here?”
He nodded dramatically.
She rolled her eyes and thought a moment. “Oh . . . OHH!”
He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her explanation.
She tried not to be overly excited, but she couldn’t stop from blabbing out, “What if AgGroSo didn’t have to use your face? What if we just used your farm and your name? You said you didn’t want your face plastered on anything . . . . What if we used your farm—and maybe your voice—but not you, yourself? What if there wasn’t even a single shot with you in the picture—just your voice reading over the information and shots of beautiful outdoor scenery taken here? As a way to honor the American farmer?”
He thought on that a moment and put another ornament on the tree. “I think it’s pretty here and all, but do you really think it’s beautiful enough for a commercial?”
She looked at him seriously. “Yes. Beckett, definitely. This place is amazing. And I’m not saying that as someone who is into you. I’m not saying that as an AgGroSo employee that wants you to do the commercial. I’m saying that as your everyday, average American. This place is gorgeous.”
“Nothing about you is average,” he responded and seared her with his blue eyes.
She smiled and felt the blush in her cheeks. “You know what I meant.”
He smiled slowly and thought about it for a moment. He turned and walked over to the windows in the living room and looked out, as if thinking about this version of a commercial. She stayed quiet and let him think for a few minutes, until she couldn’t take the silence any more.
“Beckett . . . it could be a way for you to do something as Beckett Harper, not Heartbreak Harper,” she offered. “It would get your name out there in a good way. I know you don’t like the spotlight or the celebrity of who you are, but this could be good. Yes, you would help out AgGroSo, but you would also show all of America the power and beauty of the heartbeat of our country. You would show them why agriculture matters.”
He turned back around, looking a little sad, and she thought for sure he was going to say no.
“Just think about it?” she asked.
He sighed his agreement. “I’m assuming this will need to be done right away? The Super Bowl isn’t until February, but I assume the commercial would need to be shot shortly?”
She nodded. “I was Walt’s last-ditch effort to try to get you to do it. Otherwise, their plan B was going to be shot the week after next.”
If only Beckett would go for the idea . . .
****
He had to admit this sounded much better than the original offer. He cocked his head to the side, a plan forming. “So a week? That’s really going to put me in a bind. I’m behind on other things with this storm showing up, and now, if I were to have this on my plate too . . . hmm.”
“Walt would hire someone to help you get it all done as long as you agree—I’m sure of it,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about it. We wouldn’t expect you to throw away your responsibilities here.”
“In that case, I need you.” He smiled, his plan sounding better and better the more he thought about it.
“What?” she asked, her confident look faltering.
“I’m going to need your help this next week if I am going to be doing the commercial the following week. You just told me not even an hour ago that a lot of what you have to do on a daily basis can be done from your computer. Stay here. Then stay here for the commercial. The only way I’ll agree to it is if you are in charge.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. And not just because she was pretty. It had everything to do with trust. “You’re the only one I trust to make it like you described and less like an endorsement with my face plastered on everything.”
She smiled and looked a little like she was on the verge of tears or something. “You know I won’t be much help around the farm to you.”
He shook his head. “I disagree. You helped with my heifer just fine. You can help with the meals, and you can help me do a little picking up around the farm so everything is all cleaned up for the commercial. I’ll let you help as much as you want.”
She swallowed hard and stepped closer to him. “Tell me you aren’t just agreeing to this to keep me here longer. Tell me you actually want to do this, and this doesn’t have to do with whatever is going on between us.”
He stepped forward until he was right in front of her and took her face in his hands, refusing to lie to her. “I can’t tell you those things. I will tell you that I am interested in doing the commercial if it will be how you described. And as for this thing between us, I’d do pretty much anything to keep you around a little longer.”
She sighed. “Beckett. That’s what I was afraid of. Don’t do this for me. Do it for you.”
He grinned in that cocky sort of way, his dimpler springing to action to aid him in his cause. “Oh, I’m doing it. For the both of us. It gets me an extra paycheck, and it gets us more time to figure this out. It’s a win-win.”
She smiled but still looked like she was battling tears. “You do know that eventually I am going to have to go back to Houston, right?”
He nodded. “And we will figure it out, okay? I’m just buying us a little more time.”
She nodded with him and said softly, “Okay.”
Did she believe him? Probably not, but he’d show her he meant it. He was a man of his word.
He kissed her just once, soft and slow. “Now let’s finish this tree, and then later you can talk to your boss and get us a timeframe and game plan for what we need to do next week.”
“Deal,” she said with a smile.
The Sucky Snowman
CHAPTER 11
That one gentle kiss may have done her in more than the first one. The first one proved they had chemistry. The second one promised he cared. Both had their pulls, but the second one about took her knees out from under her.
What were they doing? What was she doing?! She was falling for this man. After another week with him, she was just sure she would be completely head over heels. And that was only going to make her departure for Houston even harder.
Still though. She had another week, maybe two, depending on how long the commercial took. She could spend it moping around or she could spend it getting to know Beckett better. She had to make sure this felt as real to him as it did to her. And maybe, just maybe, after another week of her baking and cooking, she’d make it that much harder for him to forget about her. Ha.
After they finished the tree, his alma mater was playing their designated Black Friday rival college football game, so they cozied up and watched that. It was fun to listen to Becket explain his former school, including its rich traditions. He even showed her how to properly wave her hands in the air back and forth after a touchdown, Husker style.
Unfortunately, his team ended up losing because they were in some rebuilding years after hiring a new coach—but the loss allowed her to see how truly fired up Beckett could get over the game. As she watched his intense gaze on the screen, the tightness of his jaw, she knew how much he still loved football—how loyal he was to this very day. His input on how they should use the talent they had instead of straining to reach talent levels not yet achieved was spot-on. And his ideas about which plays they should be running were brilliant.
She couldn’t fathom how he could just give it all up cold turkey. He could have been an analyst. He could have gotten into coaching. Instead, he came back here to live a quiet life. He loved the game but loved it from afar. Maybe someday he’d go back to it. Maybe not.
The fact that he could give up his love for the sport and still be himself showed her that he cared mo
re about this farm than he let on. His love for football and his love for the farm had always been fighting for which came first. And at this phase in his life, the farm was coming in first place. It had to because he couldn’t play. And she supposed he probably didn’t want to coach or be an analyst until the pain over not being able to play subsided.
Since the snow had stopped that afternoon during the game, Beckett had decided afterward to put the outdoor lights up. Just around the roof of his house. Nothing too extravagant. Which was good.
People in Jordyn’s neighborhood went all out over Christmas décor, piling inflatables on one another and installing flashing lights that didn’t match at all with the rest of the house. She loved Christmas decorations as much as the next girl—she really did—but she just believed there was such a thing as overdoing it. There was a place an hour from where she lived that had a huge display of Christmas lights. And you could take a horse drawn carriage through them. Last year she went with Sam and his three kids, two of whom had kids already. It was one of her favorite Christmas memories. She’d like to take Beckett there sometime.
But she needed to stop thoughts like those. That sounded like a date. And would she ever get to take him there? She wasn’t exactly his girlfriend now, was she? He said they were dating, but there was a difference between having a girlfriend and casual dating. One promised commitment while the other just promised the opportunity for another date.
This was definitely not your normal relationship. Would they even see each other once she left? He had said they’d figure it out, but what exactly did that mean? They’d figure out how to be without one another, orrr they’d figure out how to still see one another?
Setting those thoughts aside, she decided to call Walt and let him know the good news. He answered immediately.
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