A Christmas Delight

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Maisie

I ’m about to meet Joel, and the knot in my stomach won’t loosen. I’m both giddy and terrified. It’s not like it’s a date. It is not a date. No need to be so stressed about it. That’s what I keep telling myself as I look at my reflection in the mirror, rearranging my hair and making sure I have nothing between my teeth. It’ll be all right. Not a date. He probably wants to show me another tree farm or some store where I could get my tree, and this time Mom won’t be with me.

I need to stop letting her deter me from the things I want to do. She doesn’t even know where I’m going. She thinks I’m going to work a little later today. She left to go downtown a while ago. If she decides to pop up by my shop and doesn’t see me there, it’ll be easy for her to figure out that I didn’t go to work in the end. I don’t like lying, or omitting the truth in this case, but there was no way I could take the risk of her inviting herself to this date.

It's not a date.

Joel’s being nice, that’s all. He doesn’t think I’m annoying, at least not as much as I initially thought. I’m too good at getting into my own head and inventing stories about what people think about me.

Taking a deep breath, I leave the bathroom and head to the foyer to put on my coat, my boots, and my beanie. The weather outside is gorgeous, but the cold is still sharp.

The clock in the living room says 9:59. Time to go. I step outside, trying to act casual despite my nerves being on fire. Joel is outside already and turns around when he hears my boots crunching in the snow. He’s wearing that same plaid jacket, which he keeps open despite the temperature. Dark sunglasses hide his eyes. His dark, chocolate-brown hair glistens in the sun, the few strands of gray peeking through. He smiles as I come closer, and I hope my own smile doesn’t look too tight.

“Morning,” he says. “Coffee?” He raises a large cup, and I only realize now that he’s carrying two.

“You brought coffee?”

“Of course. It’s cold. Take it quickly, though, it’s burning my fingers.”

I quickly grab the cup. Despite my mittens, I can feel the heat radiating from it. “They make insulated cups that don’t burn your hands now, you know?”

“That’s okay, I like those,” he says, opening the passenger door of his truck for me before going to the driver side.

I hop in and fasten my seatbelt. It smells like wood and fresh pine inside. “Did someone gift them to you? They’re really beautiful.”

They’re not insulated, but I’ve never seen wooden cups like these before. The inside and the top are made of steel, but the outside is all wood, smooth and polished.

“I made them myself,” Joel says, fitting his cup in the cupholder.

My head snaps toward him. “You did?”

A small smile stretches his lips as he starts the engine and backs out of the driveway. “I’m a woodworker.”

I had no idea. I never asked what he did for work, which I suppose isn’t fair since he knows where I work. I can’t help but glance at his hands, large and strong and a little rough. “That’s so cool. What kind of stuff do you make?”

“Anything people want me to make, really. Tables, chairs, cabinets… Sometimes they want small things like boxes or organizers for their tools or things like that.”

“And on your spare time, you make coffee cups.”

He chuckles. “I guess I do. What do you do on your spare time?”

“Um. I knit?” I say it as though it’s a question, suddenly feeling irrationally self-conscious. “I know, it’s a grandma’s hobby.”

He glances at me. I can’t read his expression behind his glasses. “Did you make any of what you’re wearing?"

“The beanie, the mittens, and the scarf.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really.” I raise the cup. “Not as much as this.”

“Learn how to take a compliment.”

I bite my lip, heat spreading through my cheeks. “I’ll work on that. Thank you for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, where are we going?” I ask.

“Not very far, I promise. You’ll see.”

This pickup truck feels so comfortable. It’s not just the heater, the hot coffee between my hands, or the radio playing Christmas music. It wouldn’t feel as cozy and warm if Joel wasn’t sitting next to me. Hundreds of butterflies are swarming my stomach.

We leave the main road. The woods around us are thickening, rich green filling my vision. The snow caking the pines glistens in the sunlight. Joel takes a right, leading the truck to a bumpy path going upward. The higher we go, the sparser the trees are. Smaller pines are scattered around the white hill, and beyond them, I get a glimpse of the town below. It’s breathtaking.

Joel parks on the side of the road. “We’re here.”

“Where?”

“Where you’re going to choose the Christmas tree you want.”

He hops out of the truck, and I quickly do the same. “Are you serious?”

Joel walks to the bed and opens it. He leans over and grabs a saw, a folded blue tarpaulin, and a pair of working gloves, smiling at me. “I am.”

When I glance inside the bed, I see that there are already a couple of tree stands, along with some rope to tie the tree to the roof of the truck. On the right side, there’s a tartan blanket thrown over some kind of big box, from the shape of it.

A smile splits my face. I can’t hold it. “We’re going to cut our own tree?”

He chuckles. “Yep. Let’s take a walk and look around. Choose the one you want. No rush.”

I cannot explain even to myself how this makes me feel. He doesn’t even care for Christmas, he said so himself. But here he is, offering to cut the tree I’ll choose.

“If we go this way,” he says, pointing toward the hill, “we’ll have a great view of Brindlewood. If we go the other way, there’ll be more trees. Up to you.”

I look around, thinking. Aside from Nina and Andy, I’m barely used to being asked what I prefer. If Mom were here—she’d never do something like that but let’s pretend—she’d not only choose the way, but she’d do everything in her power to convince me that she’s right and I’m wrong.

“The view is gorgeous, but I’m a little funny about heights. There are chills running up my legs every time I look down at the village.” I chuckle apologetically as though I have given the wrong answer.

“You’ll have more choices the other way,” Joel says. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

No judgement, no teasing of any sorts. I’m loving that.

Joel and I start walking in the snow, weaving through trees. They’re all beautiful, and I could honestly choose one right there and then, but I really want to take my time to find the perfect tree.

“Is that something you do often?” I ask him. “Chopping trees?”

He nods. “Brent and I help my dad as much as we can. He still thinks he’s twenty years old, but his back is here to remind him that he’s not.”

“I thought you looked like a lumberjack. I guess you are one.”

“Barely.”

“A lumber- Joel.” I start giggling, feeling both amused and mortified that such a stupid joke came out of my mouth in front of this man. I slap a gloved hand over my mouth, trying to shut myself up, but I keep laughing. This is horrifying.

Joel stops walking and stares at me. “It’s not that funny, you know.”

The fact that he’s clearly biting back on a smile makes me laugh even more. “I’m so sorry.”

“Do I need to drop you off? Because I will if you keep this going.”

“I’ll be good, I swear.”

Joel shakes his head, beginning to walk again, but chuckles. “Lumber-Joel.” He briefly glances at me. “Good one.”

We keep walking, the sun on our backs. It almost feels warm.

“What kind of tree were you looking for?”

“Big. But not too big. Like, taller than me, but not so tall that I have to climb a stepladder to reach the top. I’m done with the stepladder for a while.”

“Wise choice,” he says, chuckling.

I keep searching. Some are too small, others too tall. Some are too gangly, while others enormous. Until I spot one in the distance.

“How about this one?”

Joel nods. “You choose. It’s your tree.”

I walk to the tree, my boots sinking a little more in the snow. It’s deeper here. The tree is about six feet tall and thick with needles. In the sun, its branches are dark green, almost bordering on blue. I smile at it. “Yeah, this one’s perfect.”

“Alright, let’s do it then.”

Joel unfolds the tarp and lays it down on the snow, its edge close to the trunk of the tree. He puts the gloves on, and I watch him closely as he kneels down, saw in hand, and starts sawing.

“Do you need help?” I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, especially not from me, but I feel useless.

“I’m good. Could do this in my sleep.”

Joel tilts the tree away from him as he finishes sawing it, and it falls on the tarp. For some reason, it looks wider lying down than it did standing up, and I’m afraid it’ll be too heavy to carry. But Joel seems completely unphased as he picks up the tarp’s corners and starts pulling the tree across the snow like it weighs nothing.

I catch up to him. “Thank you. For bringing me here. For doing all that. I truly appreciate it.”

When he glances at me, he doesn’t smile. I still can’t read his expression because of the sunglasses. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

I don’t know if it’s the way he said it or the fact that he just could have said ‘you’re welcome,’ but this response sends another swarm of butterflies through my stomach.

Joel drags the tree back to his truck and takes his jacket off once we get there. I watch him work, noticing the muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt, and in less time than I thought was possible, the tree is tied to the roof of the truck. Disappointment tugs at my chest. I should have taken more time to choose a tree. I don’t want this day to end.

“Hungry?”

I look at Joel’s face, my cheeks burning at the thought that he may have caught me looking at his arms or chest. “Hm?”

“Are you hungry?” He pops the trunk open and lifts the tartan blanket, revealing the box-shaped object underneath. It’s not a box, it’s a cooler, and when he opens it, I see sandwiches, bags of chips, water bottles, and two donuts in a plastic container, which I recognize.

“You brought lunch!”

He laughs at my reaction. “You seem happy.”

“I’m starving. And I see you went to the Donut Delight this morning. The red-glazed donut with the gingerbread pieces on top is my favorite. And my own creation.”

“I know.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“I asked Nina for advice,” he says, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “I wanted to make sure I got something you liked.”

His gaze stays fixed on me, and I can’t look away for several seconds. This man that I thought was a rude grizzly bear when I first met him went out of his way to get my favorite donut, among all the other nice things he’s done.

And now that I think about it, he’s only done nice things for me, starting with carrying my box the night I moved in. He cleaned the snow off my driveway. He kept me from face-planting in the snow and helped me hang my Christmas lights. He brought me here and cut a tree for me. And now lunch.

My hands are burning to reach out and take his glasses off. I want to look into his eyes, and I want to read his expression. But my hands won’t answer me. They stay tucked in my pockets.

“You didn’t have to do all that for me.”

Joel breaks eye-contact and grabs the cooler and the blanket. “No big deal.”

We decide to go downhill for a little bit to eat with the view of Brindlewood. Joel insists we don’t have to, but I want to be brave. Or rather, I don’t want him to think I’m a wimp, which in all honesty, I am. My legs feel a little wobbly and my hands get clammy just at the sight of the village down there. Joel doesn’t go too far for my sake, and I’m grateful.

He puts the blanket on the ground and sits down. Before I join him, I take a picture of the view with my phone. It’s too pretty. I’ll have to show Nina and Andy. I step back—my eyes still on the town and the snowy hills surrounding it—and sit down. I miscalculate my aim and drop too close to Joel. My elbow bumps into his arm, and my shoulder brushes his. The sleeve of his shirt shifts, giving me a better view of his bicep.

“Sorry,” I say, scooting a few inches away. My ears feel hot. “Aren’t you cold?”

Wow, I’m a master at diversion.

“I run hot.”

He can say that twice.

We begin eating in silence. I can’t explain how, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Not on my end, at least. It feels good to sit here next to Joel, and I begin to realize that I haven’t felt that good in a long time in someone’s company, if ever. Not counting friends, of course.

But Joel’s not a friend. I don’t know what he is, really, but I know that I want more of it.

“Have you grown up here?”

He nods. “I have.”

“So, you’ve lived here your whole life?”

“Not quite. I left a few years ago.”

I look at him, but he keeps eating. I bump my shoulder against his. “Do I really need to ask you to elaborate?”

He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Well, tough.”

He glances at me, then turns back to face the view. “A few years back I met someone from a town not far from here. When she decided to move back close to her family—in another state, I went with her. It lasted about three years.”

“Oh. What happened?”

“It just didn’t work out. She wasn’t the person I thought she was. And I waited too long to end things with her. That much I’m responsible for.”

Despite hiding his eyes, I notice the shift in his demeanor. How his jaw works under the beard.

“We don’t have to talk about that,” I say. “I didn’t mean to force the issue.”

Joel doesn’t reply for a moment, making me think that’s the end of the story, when he inhales. “We almost got married.”

My heart skips a beat. “Wow, really? Why didn’t it work out?”

“We weren’t good for each other.”

I wait to hear more but that’s all he says. I guess he doesn’t really want to talk about it. His shoulders are tense, and his jaw is set. Despite my curiosity flaring, I decide it’s not worth ruining the day.

“What about you?” he asks. “What brought you to this town?”

“Nina and I were looking for a place to buy for our donut shop, and we ended up finding it in Brindlewood. I love this town. Though I’ll admit that it’s still not far enough from my mom. I thought I would be spared the awful Christmas gift.”

Joel chuckles.

“I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful,” I quickly add. “But my mom gives the worst gifts. Last year, she got me shapewear.”

Joel stares at me for a second, then starts laughing. I laugh too, both at the ridiculous memory and because this is the first time I’ve heard Joel laugh properly and I can’t help but do it with him. I thought he had a nice smile before, but now I can really see it for the first time. It’s not just a nice smile. It’s a gorgeous one that makes my heart flutter.

“For Christ’s sake,” he says. “That’s worse than being offered soap. Or toothpaste.”

More laughter escapes us, the sound echoing in the mountains.

We calm down and eat the rest of our sandwiches, which are homemade and delicious.

“What about,” Joel starts, hesitating. “Relationships?”

I know what he’s asking, at least I think I do. “Well, this is a little embarrassing but I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. I’ve had some that I thought would be serious, but I was mistaken every time. But that’s okay, being single is fine.”

I want to slap my own face as soon as these words leave my mouth. Being single is fine. I thought it was. But I don’t want Joel to think I don’t want to be in a relationship. Not that he would want to be with me or anything. I’m overthinking again.

“Have you…” I look at the view, trying to act nonchalantly. “Have you been with other people since that breakup?”

Joel doesn’t immediately respond. He seems to be drawing back into himself, any traces of laughter or smile leaving his face. Eventually, he shakes his head. “I’m fine by myself. I don’t need anyone.”

Oh. Well, that settles it. I don’t know what it settles, exactly, since I just said I was fine being alone. It’s fine. Turns out he was only being nice all this time, and I read too much into it. Like an idiot.

Still, disappointment leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I hug my knees, pretending to look at the view, pretending I’m not affected by the man next to me.