A Christmas Cabin for Two

by KD Fisher

  “Hot chocolate’s ready whenever you are.” He held eye contact for a tremulous moment, then looked down at the floor, smiling softly and rubbing the back of his neck.

  Although he was being nothing but kind, a sharp, almost desperate longing twisted in my stomach. Homesickness for a place that didn’t exist. I gave him a curt nod and hurried to strip out of my filthy clothes.

  There was no way the flannel pants and long-sleeved T-shirt he’d given me would fit, but the fabric was soft and warm, as though he’d just pulled the clothes from the dryer. I cinched up the waistband of the pants and pushed up the shirtsleeves as best I could so I didn’t look like a rag doll wandering back into the living room. A quick glance in the small mirror above the sink revealed that I did, unfortunately, look ridiculous in the baggy clothes.

  Elena and the man were sitting on the couch, chatting amiably and sipping from steaming mugs as I shuffled down the hall. His voice was low and soft, a soothing rumble like thunder. I heard my name and something about me spending time out here after losing my job. Wow, thanks for making me look good, El. As I rounded the corner, my foot caught on the hem of the pants, and they slid down my hips. My cheeks burned. Fuck Christmas trees.

  “HE was really cute, huh?” Elena raised her voice over a somewhat decent cello rendition of “Silent Night.” Of course she would talk through the one Christmas song I could tolerate. And of course she would try to force me to discuss the nameless, probably straight, definitely gorgeous farmer.

  “I guess.” I fixed my attention on the road ahead, trying and failing to ignore the way my stomach flipped and my throat tightened at the mere mention of him. Desperately I tried to rationalize my overblown reaction as simple embarrassment at barely being able to stay upright in the guy’s presence. But I knew what desire felt like: the buzzing heat, the intense curiosity, the inability to stop picturing his hand clasping mine as he pulled me off the snowy ground. I needed to clear my head, but it was hopeless. I was still wearing his clothes, enveloped in him. The clean smell of his fabric softener filled the small cabin of my car, mixing with the scent of pine from the holiday greenery Elena insisted we needed. The clothes, while way too big, were undeniably cozy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn anything so comfortable. Had I been alone and not navigating the twists of an impossibly icy road, I would have lifted the hem of the T-shirt to my nose, would have breathed him in.

  My sister snorted and shook her head. “Come on, just because Josh turned out to be a cheating idiot asshole doesn’t mean you can’t admit some random, undeniably handsome dude is hot. Crushing on cute strangers is, like, my bread and butter.”

  Crush. I let the word swirl through my mind like the snowflakes spinning through the air outside. A crush was okay, right? A one-sided, short-lived crush. I could allow myself a little bit of harmless fun after the pathetic failure that had been my relationship with Josh. Of course, there was a chance I would actually have to talk to the hot farmer again tomorrow when I brought back his clothes. Then what? I imagined his big arms wrapping around me, the sound of that low voice in my ear. The feeble stream of tepid air blowing from the dashboard vent did little to heat up the car, but I was suddenly uncomfortably hot. Desperate for any distraction, I turned up the volume on the radio, the motion mindless and immediately regrettable.

  “Hell. Yes.” Elena turned the dial to blare Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” loud enough that I was pretty sure the song echoed over the peaks of the Tetons and all the way back to the farm.

  Damn if I didn’t have to try really hard to hide my smile the whole way home.

  Chapter Two

  Matt

  I TAPPED my foot along with the smooth notes of Elvis warbling “Blue Christmas.” My hands were busy hanging my mismatched collection of ornaments on the small tree I’d cut down for myself, but my mind was firmly fixated on that mess of soft dark hair and those smoldering brown eyes framed by irresistibly long lashes. That wide, pretty mouth…. No.

  Rolling my shoulders, I focused on the spruce boughs, making sure I put the heavier ornaments on the thicker branches. It seemed pointless to put up a tree since I was really the only person who would see it. But it felt wrong not to decorate for the holidays. Besides, before he left yesterday, Mikah had mumbled something about coming back to return my clothes, so maybe he would see the tree too. Maybe he’d even stick around to drink his cup of hot chocolate this time. He’d barely said two words as I helped him and his sister cut down a huge blue spruce and tether it to the roof of his beat-up car. He’d seemed standoffish, clearly irritated as he clomped after us through the forest, looking far too adorable in my oversized coat and clothes. His sister had chatted nonstop. I liked her. But not as much as I’d immediately liked him. I couldn’t seem to forget the hitch of his breath or the way his ample lips had fallen open when our fingers brushed. And there was no way my mind was letting go of the image of that tight expanse of creamy skin when my flannel pants slipped down over the jutting bones of his hips.

  Moose lay snuggled up on the couch, eyeing me with a pull yourself together expression. A rustle of footsteps sounded outside, and a small smile bloomed on my face. That was fast. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since my dog unceremoniously hurtled Mikah into a puddle of muddy slush. But no knock came at the door. Instead it banged open, revealing not Mikah but John, my older brother, looking harried and talking a mile a minute.

  “Dude, what the hell are you doing in here? It’s nine. We have customers. Holiday rush, bro.”

  I glanced at the wall clock. Damn it. I’d been so busy mentally running my fingers over Mikah’s soft mouth and wondering if that rumpled hair was as silky as it looked that I’d totally lost track of time. Typically winters were quiet at the farm. Other than going to an indoor farmer’s market once a week to sell overwintered root vegetables and the small selection of greens and herbs we cultivated in the greenhouse, we spent most of the winter repairing equipment, taking care of overdue paperwork, and planning for the hectic seasons ahead. But things had gotten a whole lot busier since a bolt of inspiration struck my brother, and John had decided to start charging folks to cut down some of the evergreens in the forest for the holidays. It was a good idea, and yesterday’s Black Friday tidal wave of cash had been nice, but I sort of missed the solitude of the wind whipping through the trees and the blank stretch of nothing but snow for miles.

  “Sorry.” I gave the tree a final once-over. It looked nice, encircled in white lights and dotted with colorful ornaments mostly made by John’s eight-year-old daughter, Abby. I smiled before switching off the music and following my brother outside.

  The air was frigid, the kind of biting cold that immediately pricked every inch of skin and tightened every cord of muscle. The whine of a chainsaw carried over the white spread of frozen fields.

  “You okay, man?” John asked as we stomped over to the barn. A few cars sat along the driveway, but no battered navy Subaru was among them. No sign of Mikah.

  I nodded vaguely. “Yup.”

  John didn’t seem convinced. “You still bummed about that Nick dude?”

  A low groan rumbled from my throat. John was so damn nosy about my love life. About a year earlier, I’d started chatting with a guy named Nick on a farming forum, and it turned out we were both gay. He was closeted and having a hard time with it, but incredibly sweet, and we’d hit it off almost immediately, emailing back and forth and texting. What started as idle small talk had quickly escalated to sexting, then video chats, then long phone calls that often ended with both of us falling asleep as we lamented the distance separating us. It had fizzled out after about ten months, though. Nick was undeniably gorgeous and so earnest, it had sometimes made my chest ache. But he was also undeniably out of reach, over two thousand miles away in Upstate New York. I still missed him sometimes, missed having someone to laugh with at the end of the day. I missed the undeniable pull to slot him into my life. And yeah, okay, I missed getting
off, even if everything had been virtual.

  “Nope.” My gaze lifted to the wide expanse of clear blue sky. I loved days like this, the air bracing and crisp, the sharp peaks of the Tetons jutting toward feathery white clouds. Releasing a long breath, I let all the thoughts drain from my mind. My shoulders relaxed.

  But John had other ideas and kept pressing. “Why don’t you go out to Salt Lake City or something for New Year’s? Hit up some of the bars. Or give that ski instructor a call. What was his name?”

  “Nah,” I said, still sticking with monosyllables. While I appreciated my brother’s support, sometimes he was a little too enthusiastic. And invasive. And involved. Anytime he encountered a guy he even thought might be queer, John started mentally drafting the seating charts for our eventual wedding.

  “My husband botherin’ you, Matt?” Katie emerged from the barn, long black hair braided down her back. Abby followed close on her mother’s heels, one of the red bows we used for the wreaths stuck to the middle of her forehead.

  I shrugged while John scoffed. “I’m not bothering him.” He jutted his chin indignantly. “He seems kinda down today, don’t you think?”

  Katie rolled her eyes at her husband. “Um, he seems fine. Why don’t you worry about the folks who got their saw stuck in a tree trunk?” She shook her head at me in playful apology.

  John bounded away, his broad back retreating toward the tree line. As irritating as my brother could be, I was undeniably grateful to have him. The two of us had relied on each other growing up: pushing each other to keep our grades from slipping, forging our parents’ signatures on permission slips, making sure there was enough food in the fridge.

  “Are you okay, though?” Katie asked, her narrow brown eyes locking intently on my face.

  I chuckled. “You two are worse than a couple of brood hens. I’m fine. Holiday blues or whatever.”

  Katie patted my arm fondly. “You need to cool it with the Elvis in that cabin. Maybe try a little Mariah Carey for a change.”

  A laugh rumbled in my chest as I started wrapping twine around one of the freshly cut trees. Katie pointed me in the direction of the car I was supposed to tie it to, an immaculate black Range Rover, and informed me that the tree’s new owners were now wandering around the farm, taking photos and spooking the horses.

  Letting my mind drift again as I worked, I wondered whether Mikah had worn my clothes for long or if he’d shed them as soon as he got home, tossing everything in a heap on the floor. But an image of him stretching out in bed, my T-shirt rucking up over his flat stomach, had my mouth going dry. Thankfully the crunch of gravel under tires pulled me from my increasingly dirty thoughts. I grinned to myself when the navy Subaru Forester shuddered to a halt. Mikah was back. And he’d come by himself.

  “Can you take care of that one?” Katie gave my arm a quick, hard squeeze. “Abby and I should go help out Mr. and Mrs. Los Angeles over there before they get themselves killed.” She jabbed her thumb at the couple in question. They were now precariously balanced on top of the buck-rail fence surrounding the paddock and trying to take a selfie. I laughed again and nodded. But bright excitement fizzed in my stomach. I kept my gaze trained down on the Douglas fir and carefully unspooled the twine. Every footstep of Mikah’s made my heart race a little more. When a pair of black boots kicked up the snow next to me, I glanced up, trying to keep my expression neutral.

  “Hey.” Mikah raked his fingers through his tousled curls. I cleared my throat to hide the fact that I wanted to groan as the scent of his hair drifted down to me: citrus and rich coffee and amber.

  “Hey.” I stood and wiped my hands on my jeans. Jesus, just looking at him had my skin burning and tingling with need. I could tell he was uncomfortable, though, shifting from foot to foot and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his oversized green raincoat. Did the guy not own a single seasonally appropriate article of clothing? I wanted to pull him into my arms and hold him until he was warm. Instead, I focused my attention on the small canvas tote bag looped around his slender forearm.

  He followed my gaze to the bag and seemed to spring back to life. “Oh, uh, right. Your clothes. Thanks again for loaning them to me. I washed everything.” His jaw set tight as he stared out at the paddock.

  I accepted the bag, wishing all the while he hadn’t washed the clothes. The thought of his scent clinging to the shirt as I pulled it over my head did nothing to diminish my growing arousal. A tight thread of silence stretched out between us. I knew I had to say something or he would leave.

  “You okay, then?” I asked. “Moose didn’t hurt you?”

  A small smile played over Mikah’s gorgeous mouth. And now I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from his lips. “I’m fine.” He gave a small shrug. “Well, thanks again for all your help yesterday. And for the tree. My stepmom’s thrilled with it.”

  “Yup. No problem.” I desperately grasped at straws, trying to figure out some way to get him to stick around, even for a few minutes. “You never drank your hot chocolate yesterday. Want some now?”

  That tiny smile again. Then an almost imperceptible nod. “Sure. If it’s cool with your, um, wife.” I followed his gaze to Katie, who now appeared to be conducting a full-on photo shoot for the couple by the paddock. Wife? I shook my head.

  “Sister-in-law. But, yeah, it’s fine. She and my brother can handle things for a few minutes. One sec, let me get this tied to those folks’ car.” I gestured down to the tree. As I hurried through the task, I let myself speculate wildly about Mikah. His sister had mentioned they grew up in New York City and that Mikah was taking some time to get himself together after losing a teaching job he’d loved. Idly, I wondered what grade he’d taught, which subject. I was lucky to have the farm, because I couldn’t imagine having to scramble to make ends meet after losing out on work I cared about. Unfortunately she hadn’t given me any hints about his sexuality or relationship status. And I definitely wasn’t about to ask. But the hot spark that passed between us when we touched yesterday had me desperate to at least investigate.

  “Okay.” I tested the ropes on the car before nodding in the direction of my cabin.

  We had just started walking across the field when a harsh voice cut across the driveway. “Excuse me. Sir? I’d like to pay for this now.” Glancing back in the direction of the barn we’d turned into a makeshift holiday store, I had to suppress an audible groan. In the few minutes since Mikah had arrived, about six more cars had pulled up. A tall blonde woman clutched a bundle of juniper boughs in one hand and a fancy leather wallet in the other.

  “Sorry, one second,” I called back to her before turning to Mikah, hoping like hell he’d stick around. “My door’s unlocked if you want to wait in my cabin. This’ll only take a second.”

  “Um.” He bit his lip nervously, and I tried yet again not to stare at his mouth. “I can help out if you want.” His pretty brown eyes flicked to a large family arguing as they struggled to secure their tree to the roof of their minivan.

  I grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, maybe a little too hard, because he swayed on his feet. I pulled away reluctantly. Even beneath that weird giant raincoat, I could feel the fine, delicate bones of his shoulder under my hand. “Yeah, thanks, man. Cash box is in the barn on the table in the corner. It’s open… but I’ll warn you, it’s gonna be pretty disorganized. You can handle that until Katie comes back from the field. There should be a price list in there somewhere. Then hot chocolate. Okay?” If the guy had been a teacher, I was pretty sure he could manage John’s haphazard collection of loose change and crumpled bills stuffed into the old steel box we brought to the markets.

  “Wait—what? Alone? What if I, like, rob you?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Mikah blushed hotly, like he regretted voicing the thought.

  “Was that your plan all along? To rob the family Christmas tree farm?” I was teasing, but Mikah shook his head hard.

  “Shit. No. Sure, I can do that.”

  “Thanks.
I trust you.” And with that weird comment, I turned toward the blonde lady, who now looked like she might actually choke me if she had to wait another second, and told her to follow Mikah into the barn to pay.

  After helping to strap trees to three different cars and earning twenty dollars in tips for my trouble, I found Mikah alone in the barn. He was examining the holiday greenery Katie had arranged in tin buckets tied to a twig trellis that she’d interwoven with white lights. I had no clue how she came up with all this: creative displays at the market, cute logos for the pickles and jams I made, and now the cutesy holiday stuff. I was thankful for her efforts, though, because three people yesterday had commented on how pretty the arrangement was and talked about posting pictures of it on Instagram. The display really did look nice, but it had nothing on the man standing next to it. When Mikah’s eyes landed on me, he grinned, a smile so bright and warm, it transformed his entire face. He was beautiful, sure, but smiling so openly, he was too damn adorable. Quickly, though, he rearranged his features into a quizzical expression and held up a large bundle of mistletoe.

  “What is this stuff? Like, five people bought it. It’s expensive as hell.” He spoke quickly, his head tipping to the side a little as he examined the delicate white berries and yellow-green leaves.

  “Mistletoe,” I said, working hard to keep my voice even. Had he really never seen it before? City folks were weird.

  Mikah dropped the plant as if two of its tiny leaves had closed around his finger and bitten him. I didn’t miss the small intake of breath or slight pink flush of his cheeks. The space between us suddenly felt like way too much and way too little at the same time. Never in my life had I experienced such an immediate, visceral attraction to someone. But it felt like more than a physical pull. It felt like connection. I wanted so much: wanted to pull him close, wanted to feel his soft curls as they slid between my fingers, wanted to trace the fine lines of his jaw. What I didn’t want was to freak him out.