by Ash Keller
Instinct told her to keep her mouth shut. Now was not the time for questions. But she couldn't help herself. She was too fascinated to remain silent.
"This is a Christmas tree farm?"
"Yup," he answered, not turning around. As he led her around a barn, the dog ran ahead of them, clearly knowing the way home. Lola peeked into the barn. It was full of trees, already cut and ready to be taken home and decorated.
"Are all the trees pre-cut?"
"No. Customers have three options. They can purchase a pre-cut tree, which we—I—keep in this barn. Or they can walk through the farm, either using a saw to cut down the tree of their choice, or tagging a tree to be cut for them later."
Lola didn't miss how he'd amended his statement from "we" to "I." She wondered what the story was. Had he recently gone through a bitter divorce? That would explain why he was so surly.
They rounded a bend to a dark farmhouse. The only structure within sight that didn’t have twinkle lights, it stood out like a chocolate smudge on a white napkin. Its darkness was a blight on the magical scene. Lola suddenly realized how cold and sore her body was. Her hair was wet with snow, her face stung from the cold, and her fingers and toes were numb. The spell was broken. Reality was setting in once again.
The Scottie waited by the door. Scratching her ears, the man leaned the ax against the house and swung the door open. Tail raised in the air as though she were royalty, the dog trotted inside. The man gestured for Lola to follow, but she hesitated. She didn't even know this guy's name.
He scowled. "Now that we’ve covered the purpose of an ax, perhaps it's time to learn about doors."
"There's no need to be rude," she snapped. "Don’t you think we should exchange names before I come inside?"
"Why?"
Lola crossed her arms. "Because we're not Neanderthals? Presumably, you have a name? I'm Lola Blakeman."
"Eric Jolly. Happy?"
"Not remotely." But she walked inside the house. It was the opposite of the spirited, magical place outside. It was dark and dreary. There weren't any Christmas decorations in the house.
No, that wasn't exactly true. There was a Christmas tree. Its branches were bare, holding no lights or ornaments. However, it did have a lovely galvanized bucket for a stand and a skirt that looked like a homemade patchwork quilt. Someone had obviously put a lot of hard work and love into making the tree skirt.
The door slammed shut, causing Lola to flinch. She was at the mercy of the grumpy lumberjack. Eric Jolly. She'd never met a less jolly man in her whole life. But if he'd wanted to harm her, he probably would have already. And she took some relief in the fact that he’d left the ax outside.
Not that he couldn't just strangle me with his bare hands…
Lola pushed the thought aside, but not before vowing to find a weapon to hide under her pillow that night. "Why aren't there any Christmas decorations in the house?"
Eric grunted. "This is my personal space. I don't have to cater to the merry masses in my own home." He flipped a switch, filling the room with light.
Lola blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. When her pupils refocused, her gaze settled on his. For the first time, she noticed his eyes—green with flecks of gold, reminding her of a Douglas Fir sprinkled with tinsel for the holidays. Lola's breath caught. His eyes were more mesmerizing than the lights outside.
He sighed and his shoulders sagged, the weary man once again replacing the grumpy one. He broke eye contact and rubbed his face. Then, he pulled the winter cap off his head, releasing a mess of chestnut waves. His hair had begun to drift over the tops of his ears, as though he was overdue for a haircut.
He twisted the hat in his hands. "Listen, Lola," he said. "I'm not really a people person."
She lifted an eyebrow. "You don’t say."
Ignoring her, he crossed the room and opened the door to a woodstove. "I can give you food and shelter, but don't expect the hospitality of a B&B. I'm not good company."
Eric tossed a few logs into the stove and kneeled to stoke the fire. The flames reminded Lola of her wrecked car. A mere hour ago, she'd been afraid her car would explode.
She considered Eric's words. A sense of gratitude overwhelmed her. With the way her day had been going, she was lucky to have a place to sleep.
No, she was lucky to be alive. And though she’d survived the car accident, without Eric’s help, she may not have survived the night. He may not be the friendliest person in the world, but he was generously offering his home to her. Not many would show such kindness to a stranger.
Especially one who had tried to kidnap his dog.
"Thank you," she said softly.
His eyes flicked up to hers in surprise.
"I mean it, Eric. You didn't have to help me, but I'm grateful you did. Truly." She wrapped her arms around her body for extra warmth. All traces of anger and adrenaline were gone and Lola's wet clothes were chilling her to the bone.
"You're welcome." His eyes met hers again, but he quickly looked away. Closing the door to the woodstove, he stood. "You're freezing. You need to get out of those clothes."
Heat flooded Lola's face. "Wh-what?" she stammered.
Eric must've noticed the flush of her cheeks because his eyes widened. “I mean…a hot shower would be good…for you. By yourself. Alone." Grimacing, he shoved his winter hat back onto his head. “I need to go…shake some trees."
"Shake some trees?" Was that a euphemism?
"You know, to get them ready for sale."
Lola nodded, though she had no clue what he was talking about. She'd never had a real Christmas tree before. Maybe they had to be fluffed up like a fake tree? Eric turned toward the door.
"Eric," Lola called. "Before you go…"
"Yes?"
"Um…where's the bathroom?"
Chapter 4
Eric wished the floor would open up and swallow him. Where was a sinkhole when you needed one?
He led Lola to the master suite—his parents' old room—and the adjoining bathroom. He hadn't been in there much since the funeral, but the sheets were clean. "Feel free to raid the drawers and the closet. You should be able to find something to wear."
He pointed to a dresser. "I know there's a mountain of flannel shirts in there." Flannel was all his dad ever wore. Eric needed to get out of the house before he lost it. "Need anything else?"
"A towel? And maybe some soap?" Lola smiled shyly and Eric's mouth went dry. It was the first smile he'd seen in months.
He swallowed and nodded. "There should be soap in the shower. Shampoo and conditioner, too. And bubble bath, if you prefer baths." He felt himself blushing and prayed his beard would hide it. "I'll grab you a towel and a washcloth from the linen closet.”
Eric practically ran from the room. He took a steadying breath. He was failing miserably at acting like a normal person. He'd known he was out of practice, but this was ridiculous.
He hadn't said more than five words to another person for the better part of a year, but you'd think it would take longer than that to undo twenty-six years of social learning. Apparently, social skills weren't like riding a bike—you couldn't just blow the dust off and take them for a spin. Especially when up against a gorgeous stranger with a million questions and a sharp tongue.
Eric needed training wheels. And Lola was a Harley.
Lola stripped out of her wet clothes and wrapped herself in the thick towel Eric had given her. She'd turned on the faucets to fill the bathtub, squeezing in some bubble bath. The fragrant scent of lavender filled the room.
Lola felt the tension in her muscles start to ease. With her busy work schedule, she never had time for long baths. She was usually in and out of the shower before the water even had time to warm up. But when she walked into this bathroom and saw the tub, twice as big as hers and with jets to massage her sore muscles, it was too inviting to resist.
Before she could indulge, she needed to send two messages. With a resigned sigh, she lo
wered the toilet seat and sat down. Glancing at her cell phone, she saw that she still didn’t have service. But maybe there was wi-fi? She half hoped there wasn't, just so she could avoid dealing with what she'd done for a while longer.
No luck. Not only was there wi-fi, but it also didn't require a password. She connected to Jolly_Trees_Guest, careful not to look at the missed calls, texts, and emails. It was cowardly but she just couldn't face them yet.
She crafted a brief email to her program director. Lola didn't know if she wanted to stay in the surgical residency program, or if that would even still be an option, but she couldn't just leave without notifying someone. Her message was brief, explaining that she needed a leave of absence and would be in touch soon.
The next message was more difficult to send. Her brother, Lance, had done so much for her, even fighting for custody of Lola when she was sixteen. Lola had been bounced around the foster care system for years, so she didn't have a lot of faith that her brother would stick around. No one in her life ever had.
But Lance had proven her wrong, taking the steps to legally adopt her. Lola wasn't born a Blakeman. She and Lance were half-siblings, and his last name had been different than hers. Lola had never known her father and hadn't been attached to her name. So, after the adoption, she’d changed it to match her brother's.
Lance was her family. And the day the adoption and name change were finalized in court, Lola vowed to be the perfect sister. She'd done a good job—until now.
Lola's eyes fluttered open. When had she drifted off? The bubbles had dissolved but the bathwater was still lukewarm. She leaned toward the tap to add more hot water just as a loud machine roared to life outside.
Her muscles ached to stay in the bath, but her curiosity got the better of her. Was Eric shaking trees? Lola had to know what that meant.
She opened the drain to the tub and stepped out, instantly regretting her decision. The air was cool on her damp skin. She wrapped the towel around her body and tiptoed to the window, trying to keep from dripping water all over the floor. Peeking through the blinds, she noticed a floodlight was pointed right at Eric. He stood next to a Christmas tree. A shaking Christmas tree. The tree had been set into some sort of machine for that purpose. Loose pine needles rained down to the ground.
She turned her attention back to Eric. He hadn't put on a coat but he had rolled his sleeves down and wore thick work gloves. The red flannel shirt stretched across his broad, muscular shoulders, which were slumped once again. He was far too beautiful to look so unhappy. Lola wanted to wrap her arms around him in a comforting hug.
Surgeons don't do that, she reminded herself. The lack of personal connection was one of the things Lola disliked about the job.
She tore herself away from the window and walked into the bedroom. The Scottie stared at her from the middle of the bed, its furry face looking stern. The message seemed clear: you're not welcome here.
Lola noticed a set of steps leading up to the mattress. Apparently, this was the dog's bed. Great.
"You could show a little gratitude, you know," Lola grumbled. "I was willing to take on an ax-wielding maniac for you." She tossed her phone onto the bed.
The dog lunged toward Lola. A second later, her phone was in its mouth and it raced down the stairs and out the door. Lola cried out for the dog to stop but it ignored her. She debated whether to find some clothes to put on, but the tree-shaking machine still roared outside, and she was afraid her already-damaged phone wouldn't survive much longer in the Scottie's mouth.
Clutching the towel to her chest, Lola sprinted after the dog.
Chapter 5
"Get back here!"
The dog was a monster. She understood now why Eric had threatened to kill it. Taunting her, it sat on its hind legs, waiting for her to approach. They'd done this a few times already, and Lola knew as soon as she got within arm's length, the dog would bolt again. She needed a new tactic. Maybe she could tempt it with another toy?
She spotted a plastic bone on the couch. The dog watched with curious eyes as she walked toward it. When she picked it up, the dog stood, wagging its tail.
"Oh, you want this, do you?" She waved the bone in the air. "Nope, can't have it. This bone is mine." Lola held the toy behind her back.
The dog dropped the phone and bounded toward her. Lola flung the toy across the room and snatched her forgotten phone off the floor. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it. Aside from some slobber and the corner of the screen that was already cracked, it seemed fine.
The Scottie jauntily trotted toward her with the bone in its mouth. Then it dropped the toy at Lola's feet. The dog seemed so proud, Lola couldn't help but laugh. "You're adorable, you know that?"
Lola scooped up the toy and threw it. But the dog was no longer interested in the bone. It had another object in mind.
Her towel.
"No!" Lola stood helpless as the dog yanked the towel from her body. She took a step toward the dog to wrestle her towel away. But then she realized it had grown quiet. Too quiet. The machine was no longer running outside.
Before Lola could dash for the bedroom, the front door swung open.
It had been a long day. Eric just wanted to fall into bed and sleep till morning. He still had so much to do to get the farm ready to open. It was his first year doing it alone and he was in real danger of failing. And now, on top of everything else, he was stuck with Lola.
Last Christmas, he'd have enjoyed the unexpected addition of another human. The more the merrier. Especially a feisty blonde like Lola. He'd have loved showing her around the farm.
But a year ago, he was still a normal guy with a little house on Main Street. Not a recluse who had inherited a farm, a house, and a dog from his parents.
Only, he wasn't alone, was he? Lola. He thought of the awe in her voice as she saw the farm. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if she'd want to stay to help him. But that was a ridiculous thought. As soon as the snow was cleared from the roads, she'd be gone.
He took off his work gloves and shoved them in his pockets. He'd gotten a lot done, but his list of chores was still a mile long. He stomped on the mat by the front door, knocking the snow off his boots. Then he turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
The Scottie ran laps around the Christmas tree. Eric sighed. There was probably a mouse. Terriers were great at finding them.
Eric slapped his thigh to get the dog's attention. "Show me what you've got there, Princess."
"No, way!"
Eric nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected shriek. What in the world? "Lola? Why are you behind the Christmas tree?"
"Just go away," she answered, "and take your dog, too."
Eric frowned. "Come here, Princess."
"Stop calling me Princess!" Lola's voice was furious.
Eric felt the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile. It was a strange sensation. "You told me to call for the dog. That's her name."
"You named your dog Princess?" Her voice was incredulous.
"My mother named her. Now, will you tell me why you're behind the…" His voice trailed off. Princess was trotting over to him now, dragging a fuzzy green towel behind her. He put two and two together and laughed. It had been so long that he barely recognized the sound.
"It's really not that funny," Lola complained.
He struggled to regain control, but it was like a dam bursting. He took the towel from Princess and tossed it beside the tree. "It seems you and the tree need some privacy. I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes."
He was still laughing when he left the room.
Chapter 6
Eric woke the following morning feeling better than he had in months. He'd needed to laugh. It was true what they said about it being the best medicine. The tasks ahead of him didn’t seem so daunting now. With a little luck, he may be able to pull it off.
As he made coffee, he chuckled at the thought of Princess dragging Lola's towel to him. Princess kept getting Lola in
to crazy predicaments. He made a mental note to give the dog a few extra treats today.
Lola strolled into the room with Princess on her heels. "Do I smell coffee?"
Eric turned to say good morning, a smile still on his lips from the memory of her hiding behind the Christmas tree.
Her eyes narrowed and she held up a hand in warning. "Not a word about last night or I'll murder you with your own ax."
Eric chuckled. "I was just going to ask how you and Princess slept?"
"The monster hogs the bed."
Eric held out a mug of coffee for Lola. "Sorry about that. She's sort of claimed that room for herself. Scotties can be pretty territorial."
Lola cradled the mug in her hands. "She does seem to rule the roost."
"She is a Princess," Eric said.
He was pleased to see a smile play on Lola's lips.
"I can't believe you haven't changed her name," she said.
Eric shook his head. "Believe me, I've tried. She won't answer to anything else."
Lola lowered her nose to her mug and inhaled deeply before taking a sip. Eric tried not to stare, but she was stunning. Her skin was pale but flawless and her eyes were the color of ripe blueberries. She'd showered and removed all the makeup from her face, revealing a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
He forced himself to look away. "I think it'll be a couple more days before the road is cleared enough to get your car out of the ditch."
"Are you sure you don’t mind if I stay here?"
"Not at all. I'll be busy getting things ready for opening day this weekend, but you're welcome to make yourself at home."