A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

13. Noel

13

NOEL

T he soft knock on the bathroom door as I’m towel-drying my hair draws my lips into a grin I can barely see through the fogged mirror over the sink.

I reach over and turn the handle, tugging the door open, laughing softly at the almost hesitant look on Luke’s handsome face. “Aren’t we a little beyond knocking at this point?”

Especially after what he did in the shower to me before he climbed out and told me to enjoy the hot water myself for a bit.

Which is precisely what I did for probably far too long.

Even though I could barely stand anymore on my wobbly legs, I accepted his offer for what it was—a chance for me to relax and regroup, maybe to get my head around what had so rapidly happened over the last several hours.

Maybe that’s why he’s looking a little…different.

Maybe he’s questioning everything, too.

Luke grins, that dimple I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again popping in his right cheek—a cheek that looks very pink compared to how he appeared when he left me under the scalding spray. Even after another round against the tile and the heat and humidity in here, his skin wasn’t this red.

“Luke…what’s going on?” Concern suddenly knots in my stomach. “Are you all right?”

He nods slowly, his green gaze traveling over me in the red-plaid flannel shirt he left out on the counter for me— with sleeves, considering how cold it is outside and my feelings on his cut-offs. “Everything is perfect. But if you plan on walking around here in just that ”—his focus dips to my bare legs, the hem of the shirt falling only mid-thigh—“ then I might be in really, really big trouble.”

I already am.

It almost slips out as I stare at the man to whom no other has ever compared.

Not that there have been many.

But the handful of men I’ve dated since our split never measured up—in any category—to the one devouring me with his gaze.

And even after all this time, I know it isn’t merely his lust surging again.

He’s up to something—more than just ogling me.

His still-damp hair looks mussed and disheveled, and that pink tint to his cheeks dissipates the longer he stands in the doorway of the steamy bathroom.

I narrow my eyes on him, not allowing his deflection from my original concern. “What’s going on?”

He holds out a hand, those deep calluses dark and rough and waiting for me to accept them. “Come see.”

What the hell is he up to?

Luke was always great at surprises, but he also knows I hate them.

The anxiety of not knowing what’s coming always makes me feel almost nauseated before the big reveal.

And it’s starting to churn my stomach now .

I rehang the towel I had been using on my hair, swallowing past the unease, and slid my palm into his unusually cold one.

All night, his touch has been scorching hot, as fiery as his passion.

I open my mouth to ask him about it. Before I can, his grip tightens, and he tugs me up against him firmly. Aligning his entire body to mine, pressing into me like he can’t get close enough.

The scent of crisp snow, freshly cut pine, and that masculine musk Luke always carries with him invades my breath.

Luke stares down at me, his eyes glimmering with mischief, as well as the kind of heat he hasn’t stopped looking at me with since I got here. He lowers his head, brushing a feather-light, barely there kiss over my forehead. “I know this isn’t the Christmas you anticipated, definitely not the one you wanted, but I hope this helps.”

“What?”

He pulls back and drags me from the bathroom out into the cabin.

My eyes immediately land on what looks to be about an eight-foot pine now standing in the corner, which was sad and barren when I came into this bathroom. “Luke!” I whip my head around toward him. “What did you do?”

His broad shoulders rise and fall nonchalantly as he watches me with a hint of trepidation in his gaze. “I got you a tree.”

I stand awestruck, staring at him, unable to form any sort of words while my head tries to wrap around what he’s done.

He steps in behind me and slides his arms around my waist, lowering his chin to the top of my head and squeezing me tightly.

The wind howls, the windows vibrate, and that sharp, high-pitched sound that has been our constant soundtrack since the moment we arrived at the cabin, comes down the chimney again.

I point toward the door. “You went out in that ?” Luke nods, and I glance up at him. “All the way down to the lot?”

He chuckles low, his chest vibrating against my back, his body heat keeping me warm as much as the fire roaring in the fireplace does. “God, no. I never would have made it in this.”

“Then…”—I pull out of his hold and turn to face him—“where did the tree come from?”

One corner of his lips twitches, and he inclines his head toward the front window.

Narrowing my eyes on the storm outside, I slowly make my way across the wooden floors to the same place I stared out, looking for him only hours ago—when I was so fucking mad at him for locking me in here.

Frost coats the glass, and I swipe it away so I can see the forest.

Even with the porch light on, the white-out conditions have taken over, and I can barely see a few feet beyond the cabin.

But what I can make out causes my breath to catch.

The landscape looks very different than it did the last time I stared out this pane. Or maybe I didn’t see it because I was too blinded by my rage at the man standing behind me silently now.

A true winter wonderland greets me—the kind of white Christmas my heart always sings for.

Rabbit prints in the fresh accumulation in front of the cabin.

Icicles hang from every snow-covered tree.

And one is missing.

Footprints in the snow lead to a slightly dug-out area…an d a fresh stump where a tree once stood, just in front of the small building Luke calls home.

I glance near my feet next to the door where his wet boots and axe lean, then up to the jacket hanging on a hook above them, dripping from the melting snow sloughing off it.

Oh, my God.

He didn’t…

My hands shaking, I turn back to him, utterly speechless. My chest tightens so much it makes it difficult for me to even draw in a breath. “You went out and chopped down a tree for me.” I motion over my shoulder with my thumb. “In this .”

Luke offers another nonchalant shrug, the white T-shirt he put on after our shower pulling tightly across his muscled chest and biceps with the move. “A lot easier than trying to make it down to the lot and drag one that was already cut up here…”

Tears sting my eyes. “Luke, you’re insane. Certifiably crazy.”

His lips twitch as he shakes his head. “I’m not.” The gaze he levels on me doesn’t hold any humor, though. He looks dead serious about whatever he’s about to say. “What would have been crazy was standing by, watching you be miserable on Christmas Eve, when I could give you the very thing you came down here in that for.”

He inclines his head toward the tree in question—the absolutely perfect, proportional, postcard-photo Christmas tree standing in the corner. Water drips from it, the snow he wasn’t able to remove before dragging it in falling to the wood floors the same way my tears are about to.

They finally slip from my eyes, and I close the distance between us and practically launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face against his strong, broad chest.

Luke catches me, presses his face into my hair, holding me tightly and breathing me in.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to.

A little sob slips from my lips, muffled by his chest. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

Luke kisses my head, squeezing me. “I really, really did.”

“But it’s freezing out there…”

He chuckles low again. “It definitely isn’t pleasant, even for me, who usually wouldn’t complain about a little snow and wind, but it would have been worse to have to sit in here and watch you be miserable because I don’t have any Christmas spirit.”

I pull back and look up at him, pressing my palm against his cheek. “I think we can find some more.”

One of his dark brows rises slowly, his skepticism evident. “Do you? I don’t have lights or ornaments or any of that anymore. You’re lucky I even kept the tree stand out in my shed at the side of the cabin to put that thing up.”

That tiny hint of grinchiness seeps into his gaze.

But seeing that only makes my grin bigger. “You greatly underestimate my ingenuity…”

He presses a kiss to my lips, letting his linger there, like he’s savoring the moment. “Oh, I never underestimate you, Snowflake, but I have no idea what you’re talking about or suggesting.”

I reluctantly pull out of his hold and walk backward toward the bathroom, my mind racing, ten steps ahead of where I was a moment ago. “I know for a fact that there are several things you always have in this cabin this time of year.”

He narrows his eyes on me, watching me retreat. “Not sure where you’re going with this, Snowflake.”

No doubt, the many years he’s spent avoiding anything and everything to do with the holiday has left him a little atrophied when it comes to his Christmas decoration knowledge.

“You will…” I slip into the bathroom, pop open the medicine cabinet, and snag what I need from there, then practically giggle as I run to the kitchen and throw open the top cabinet on the left.

“Snowflake…”

The warning and questioning tone in the way he says my name only makes me laugh harder, and I turn back with the jar of popcorn kernels and hold up the dental floss I just snatched.

His eyes widen slightly.

I keep grinning as I set them on the counter and move to the refrigerator, pausing with my hand on it. “Though a lot of things have changed in the last eight years, Luke Crisp would never not have his favorite tart holiday treat stocked inside his fridge.”

His lips twitch, proving I’m right, and I tug open the refrigerator door and find exactly what I need—a giant Tupperware filled with fresh cranberries from his cousin Dean’s farm.

I grab it and hold it up. “I assume he dropped these off a few days ago.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the wall, watching me with that grin that could melt off my panties—if I were wearing any.

“So, we have popcorn and cranberries to string, and…” I dart to the other side of the kitchen and tug open a drawer, not at all surprised to see that he hasn’t moved anything. Pulling out a package of aluminum foil and the ball of kitchen twine, I hold them up for him. “Foil wrapped around twine would make incredible strings of faux tinsel.”

“Plus…” He interrupts my excited ramble and holds up a finger.

I freeze as I wait for him to continue, to see what he’s thinking.

He pushes off the wall and walks over to the antique roll-top desk that once belonged to his great-grandfather and has always sat in the far corner of the cabin. I hold my breath as he pulls open a drawer and holds up a stack of white paper and a pair of scissors. “Cut out snowflakes.”

My heart stops.

It literally stops in my chest as I see the old Luke standing in front of me.

The one who loves Christmas.

The one who loved me.

The one who walked out in a goddamn blizzard to chop down a tree for me…

“I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve made those, Luke.”

He laughs as he approaches me and drops a kiss on my forehead. “You have no idea…”

“Oh, I think I do.”

I have no doubt that Luke hasn’t touched anything Christmas related since the moment I left for Toronto.

To see him now…

My giggle increases, picturing what the residents of Mistletoe would say if they saw him. “God, could you imagine what anyone would think if they knew that the Grinch of Mistletoe was up here about to string popcorn and cranberries, make homemade tinsel, and cut out snowflakes to decorate a tree and his cabin?” I grin and waggle my eyebrows. “Bambi will have a field day with it. Absolutely scandalous.”

He rests his hip against the counter and sets down the paper and scissors, examining everything we have laid out. “If you really want to scandalize them, I can do one better.”

I raise a brow at him. “Color me intrigued.”

“Do you have your phone? ”

“Yeah…but it doesn’t work up here.”

If it did, I would have been on the phone with Mom instantly instead of having to leave it to Luke to call her and tell her I wasn’t coming home for Christmas. A tiny part of me is still annoyed he didn’t take me into the office to do it right away or bring me back down there with him. But honestly, I probably would have tried to run back to my car.

And he knew it.

He nods slowly. “I know, and I don’t have the internet—intentionally—but what I do have”—he points to a speaker on top of the desk—“is that and what I know you undoubtedly have on your phone.” He wraps an arm around me and tugs me up against him. “That incredible Christmas playlist of yours, which I’m sure has been updated to reflect all the new songs and versions that have come out since we last listened to it.”

Okay, that’s it…

I’m going to melt into a puddle on the wooden floor, just like the snow is melting from the tree and his jacket and boots next to the door. “You’d be right.”

No matter how many times I hear them, sung by countless different voices in a thousand unique styles, I never get sick of Christmas songs. And I will add every single one that releases to my list the moment I can get my greedy hands on it.

Something Luke is abundantly aware of.

He offers a smug smile and kisses me, slow and deep, like he’s trying to say something without using his words. “I’m right about a lot of things, Snowflake.”