River Wild

by Towle, Samantha

  “Oh, hush, Christmas Grinch.” I roll my eyes at him. “And how expensive are they?”

  “The train is fifty dollars.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It says so on the price tag.” He lifts his chin in its direction.

  Following with my eyes, I look back at the train and see a little brown price tag hanging from it. I missed it before. He’s right. It’s fifty dollars.

  I can’t afford that. Especially not for a tree ornament.

  Sigh.

  “Okay, let’s go inside.” I open the door for him because his hands are full and let him through before walking inside myself.

  There are stacks of fresh produce. Homemade jams. Pickles.

  My stomach rumbles.

  I press my hand to it. I had breakfast not that long ago. But this baby is greedy. I’m going to be rolling around by the end of this pregnancy if the baby has anything to do with it.

  River walks straight over to the counter, putting the box down on it, and is greeted by a woman in her seventies at least.

  “River, always good to see you. What do you have for me today?” She nods down at the box.

  I want to know, too. But River doesn’t answer her question.

  I move to stand beside him. The woman’s eyes go to me.

  “Hi.” I smile.

  “Hi.”

  “I’m Carrie, River’s neighbor,” I introduce myself because he clearly has no intention of doing so.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Carrie. I’m Ellie. I own this fine place.”

  “It’s a wonderful store,” I tell her. “I love the decorations you have up outside. And I was just admiring the glass tree ornaments in the window. Especially the train. It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, River is—”

  “Here for a Christmas tree,” he cuts her off. “Not me. Her.” He jerks his thumb at me.

  I stare at him. He’s acting strange. Well, stranger than normal.

  A smile touches Ellie’s lips. Almost like a knowing smile.

  “What kind of tree are you after?” she asks me.

  “Are there different types?”

  She smiles kindly at me. “Quite a few.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ve never bought a Christmas tree before.” I feel a bit pathetic, making that admission.

  “River knows the tree types. He used to come in every Christmas to pick one out with his mama. Such a beauty Mary was. Could’ve been a model on the runways, but then she … well, yes, and then, after Mary was gone, of course, he’d come in with his grandmother. But that stopped, when Greta passed. A real friend to me was Greta.” She sighs sadly. “After she was gone, River stopped buying a Christmas tree. Maybe you can talk him into getting one again.”

  I guess that answers my question about Gran. She died.

  But what happened to his mom?

  My eyes move to River, and he’s frozen still beside me. His face a mask. Body like a statue.

  Concern fills me. “River,” I quietly say his name.

  “Oh, look at me, going on.” Ellie blinks, seeming to realize that maybe she said a bit too much. “Old age getting the better of me. How about you and I sort through the things that you brought in for me, River, and I’ll get Macy to help Carrie pick out a Christmas tree? Macy!” Ellie calls out.

  “River.” I touch his hand with mine.

  He blinks, looking down at me, like he’s remembering that I’m still here.

  I see that vulnerability there in his eyes just for the briefest of moments, and then it’s gone. His eyes are back to being closed off.

  “You wanted me, Ellie?” A female voice cuts through the silence.

  My eyes follow the sound of the voice to a woman, who looks to be around my age, maybe a few years younger. She’s really pretty. Long, dark hair tied up into one of those messy buns that I’ve never been able to perfect. Wide brown eyes rimmed with long black lashes, set in a heart-shaped face. And an innocence about her that tells me she’s only known good things in her life.

  I envy that. But I’m glad for her.

  “Yes. Can you help River’s friend, Carrie, pick out a Christmas tree?” Ellie tells her as Macy approaches us. “She doesn’t know what kind she wants, so if you could, explain the different types to her.”

  “Of course,” she says. Her eyes pass straight over me and onto River. “Hi, River,” she says with that tone in her voice that only a woman with a major crush would use.

  I feel a few things in this moment. And confusion is definitely at the top of the list.

  River, of course, ignores her.

  It makes me feel bad for her. But it’s also nice to know it’s not just me he ignores. I was starting to wonder, as he was being so nice to Ellie. Well, as nice as River can be.

  I give Macy a sympathetic look. A look of solidarity. Letting her know she’s not alone in the rude and grouchy treatment from River. We are sisters together.

  But … the look I get back from her is not one of sisterhood.

  More like annoyance. And distaste.

  Right. Okay then.

  But still, he’s being rude, and that’s just not acceptable.

  “River”—I nudge his arm with my elbow—“Macy said hi to you.”

  “I heard,” he grunts.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello back?”

  His eyes flick to mine. His expression screams, Are you fudging kidding me? Although I’m sure he’s not thinking fudging. More like the F-word that ends in K.

  I stare back at him, refusing to look away. “It’s the polite thing to do,” I say softly.

  His brow lifts. “Have you met me?”

  “Yes, quite a few times,” I say dryly. “And, although I do know you’re rude and impolite, I also know you can be nice when you want to be.”

  I know the word nice irks him.

  He scowls. Eyes narrow. And he continues to stare.

  So, I stare right back. Refusing to give in. And I smile. Widely.

  It annoys him. I know this because he pinches the bridge of his nose. His eyes close. His jaw clenches. He huffs out a breath through his teeth.

  His hand drops. He stares at me. “Hi, Macy,” he grits out through that still-clenched jaw of his.

  And I smile even wider. Not to be an ass. But because I’m proud of myself. I didn’t back down to his intense stare, and trust me, the guy has got a stare that could refreeze the melted polar caps in the Antarctic.

  That’s a big thing for me. Not backing down.

  A few months ago, I wouldn’t have dared to speak to another person the way I just spoke to River.

  And I managed to make a grumpy bear like River be nice to someone.

  Go, me.

  I pat him on the arm and turn to Ellie, whose eyes are pinging between me and River like we’re a tennis match she’s watching.

  “Sorry about that, Ellie. So, I’ll leave you guys to do your thing.” I gesture to the box that’s still sitting on the counter, unopened, River’s hand now sitting protectively on the top of it. “I’ll go outside with Macy and pick out my tree. Oh, and, Ellie, do you have any other tree ornaments than the ones you have in the window? I do love them a lot, but they’re a little out of my price range.”

  Her warm eyes smile at me. “I have some right over there.” She points in the direction of the far corner of the store. “I’ll show you them when you come back in from picking your tree.”

  I give Ellie one last smile, and then I follow Macy outside, leaving River where he stands.

  And I feel his eyes on me the whole way out.

  Carrie

  “She likes you,” I say to River as he pulls upside my house and turns the engine off.

  “Who?” He climbs out of the truck, not waiting for my response.

  I climb out my side and meet him at the back of the truck, which he’s opening to get my tree and decorations out.

  I got some real nice tree ornaments at a great price. Not the glass ornaments. But st
ill, really lovely. And a set of Christmas lights on discount.

  “Macy,” I tell him. The word feels a little sticky in my throat. I’m not sure why.

  It’s not because I’m interested in River. Of course I think River’s handsome. His body is out of this world, as are other parts of his anatomy. But I have no interest in him in that way. I have zero interest in men in general. My focus is on my baby and Buddy and building us a great home and life. River is just a friend. If he’s even that. I think, if you asked him, he’d say we weren’t friends.

  And Macy wasn’t the friendliest of girls. But I think maybe she saw me with River and got the wrong idea about us. She was probably a little jealous. And River isn’t the friendliest of guys. They’d be a perfect fit.

  “She doesn’t know me,” he grunts as he drags the tree out of the back of the truck and hauls it onto his big shoulder.

  I grab hold of the tree stand and box of ornaments, and I quickly follow after him to my front door.

  “I don’t mean she likes your personality,” I tell him as I balance the box on the arm holding the tree stand while getting my keys out of my purse. I somehow manage it and unlock the front door, pushing it open. Buddy’s there in an instant, jumping around with excitement at my arrival home. “Hey, Buddy boy. We’ll have a fuss in a minute, just watch out while River carries the tree in,” I tell Buddy as River navigates the tree through my front door and into my living room.

  “You do realize that dog doesn’t understand a fucking word you just said.”

  He called Buddy a dog. Definite upgrade from mutt.

  I follow River in and put the box and stand down on the floor. I kneel on the floor, and Buddy climbs into my lap and starts licking my face.

  “Yes, he does … don’t you, you handsome boy?” I scratch Buddy behind his ears, the way I know he likes it.

  River leans the tree against the wall and watches me with Buddy. He shakes his head.

  “What?”

  “Odd as fuck,” he says.

  “Grumpy as the Grinch,” I tell him.

  His eyes flash with humor.

  I really do enjoy trading barbs with him. I have no idea what that says about our relationship. Not that we have a relationship. I’m not actually sure what we are, to be honest.

  Then, I remember what I was saying about Macy. “Oh, so, yeah, as I was saying.” I put Buddy to the floor and get to my feet. “Macy … I didn’t mean she likes your personality. I meant that she likes this.” I wave my hand up and down, gesturing to his body and face.

  “Wow, Red. An insult and compliment in one. I’m impressed. And you do realize this tree is way too fucking big for this living room.”

  I stop and look at it leaning up against my wall. The top is bent over against the ceiling. Hmm … it looks quite big now that it’s in here. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away when I was buying it. Maybe overestimated the height of the ceiling.

  “Yeah.” I sigh. “But it’s only for a few weeks.”

  “Sure, a few weeks of not being able to sit in your living room because your big-ass Christmas tree has taken it over.”

  “Don’t be dramatic. I can trim the top down, so it doesn’t bend over against the ceiling.”

  He huffs out a laugh. “The top isn’t your problem, Red. The problem will happen when I cut the rope off this tree, and it spreads right out and over your living room.”

  Oh. “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  I look at the tree, all packed into the rope and net covering it.

  I think he’s right.

  “Fudge,” I murmur.

  “I think you mean, fuck.”

  “No, I definitely meant fudge.” I press my finger to my lips, thinking. I come up with nothing. “What do you think I should do?”

  “How the fuck should I know?”

  “But you’ve had Christmas trees before.”

  He pauses and looks at me. “How come you’ve never had a tree before, if you’re as into Christmas as you say you are?”

  Ah.

  “Well … I never said I haven’t had one. I just”—I bite my lip—“never had any involvement in buying one or putting one up before.”

  He stares at me for a long moment. I entwine my fingers together in front of me.

  “Trim it. Or toss it.”

  “I’m not tossing it out!” I say, aghast.

  “Looks like you’re trimming it then.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh.

  “You want me to cut the rope off for you?” he asks. “See what you’re working with.”

  “Probably best. If I do, I might get buried beneath it.”

  He looks at me and then at the tree. “True. Pass me the stand.”

  I hand it over to him and watch as he fits the base of the tree into the stand, securing it. Then, he pushes the coffee table, so it’s up against the sofa, trapping Buddy, who’s on the sofa at the moment.

  I go over and pick Buddy up, holding him in my arms, getting him out of the way.

  River pulls a Swiss Army knife out of the pocket of his jeans. Flicks the knife out and starts to cut the rope on the tree.

  I back up as the branches start falling free because … holy fudge knuckles. It’s massive. It spreads out, covering half the sofa and coffee table. It’s hanging over the television. Basically, it takes up half of the room.

  Well … hells bells.

  “Well … it’s …” I helplessly gesture to it.

  “The words you’re looking for are fucking ridiculous. Actually, it reminds me of you.”

  “Ridiculous?” I frown.

  “Pushy and invasive.” He gives me a look.

  Still frowning, I hug Buddy to my chest. “I’m not pushy and invasive.” I’m the least nosy person I know.

  “Macy likes you.” He imitates my voice, once again badly.

  “You do realize I sound nothing like that?”

  “Whiny and annoying?”

  “Yes.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, Red.”

  “Jerk. And I was merely pointing out that Macy likes you. You know, just trying to be nice. You should try it sometime.”

  “News flash: I’m not nice. And I don’t want to be nice. Some people like being assholes. I’m one of those people.”

  “The man doth protest too much, methinks.” I tap my chin with my index finger. “You’re nice, River. Deal with it.”

  He folds his knife up and puts it back in his pocket. “Okay, explain how I’m nice.”

  I falter a little. “Well … you’re nice to me on occasion.”

  “No. I tolerate you on occasion.”

  I laugh at that. “You took me to get a tree. That was nice.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I was going there anyway. I just took you with me because you’re pregnant, and whether I’m an asshole or not, my gran would rise from her place of rest and come and kick my ass for leaving a pregnant woman to haul a Christmas tree around.”

  “Fair enough. And … I’m sorry about your gran.”

  “She was old.” He shrugs. “And it was years ago.”

  “Well, I’m still sorry.”

  I want to ask about his mom, but I don’t know how. So, instead, I skip right back to our conversation. “You were nice to Ellie when we were at the store.”

  “I was respectful. I was taught to respect my elders.”

  By his gran.

  “Respect. Right.” I nod. “You were nice to Macy—well, after I prompted you to be.”

  “Prompted? More like forced. And, if you think that was me being nice, then you need your head checked.”

  I smile wide. “Maybe I do.”

  “There’s no maybe about it. Now, can we stop fucking around? It’s wasting time and annoying me.”

  “Do you have somewhere to be?”

  “No.”

  I tilt my head to the side, something occurring to me. “What do you do for a living?”

  “This and that.”

 
“Sounds vague.”

  “It is.”

  “I work at the diner.”

  He looks at me like I’m as thick as the Christmas tree. “Uh, I know. Because you already fucking told me.”

  “I’m a waitress there.”

  “Wow. Really? I’m shocked to learn this.”

  “I could have been the cook,” I tell him.

  “No, you couldn’t because Guy is, and he still works there. Aside from a cook and waitress, there aren’t any other jobs at the diner. So, let’s cut to the chase and get to the point of this conversation.”

  “Well”—I lift my shoulders—“I just thought, if I told you what my job is, you might tell me yours.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s none of your business.”

  “You’re being rude, River.”

  “I was nice before, according to you.”

  “You were. And, now, you’re being rude.”

  “I am rude. And mean. And an asshole.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  “Good. So, stop fucking arguing with me now and go get me your pruning shears, so I can trim this damn tree for you.”

  “How do you know I have pruning shears?”

  “Because I’ve seen you in the garden, trimming your bushes.”

  Laughter splutters out of me. “You do realize how that sounded, right?”

  He gives me an innocent look. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Sure you don’t.” I roll my eyes. “And you do realize that, by offering to trim my tree—”

  I snort and then clamp a hand over my mouth, and he laughs.

  “You have a dirty mind, Red.” He slowly shakes his head, holding my stare. “And did you just snort?”

  “You laughed, too.”

  “But I didn’t snort.” His eyes darken with some unnamed emotion. “And I never claimed to be clean.”

  Well … hells bells and Christmas tingle.

  Something has tightened low in my belly, causing an ache to start between my legs. I press my thighs together and bite the inside of my cheek.

  “You’re being nice again,” I say in a quieter voice.

  “No. I’m offering to trim this tree because you’re half as small as it is, and you’re pregnant; therefore, you ain’t going up any ladders.”