Christmas Kiss (Evergreen Family Tree Farm #2)

Chapter Three

Mariah

“No, he’s coming here tonight.” I shouldn’t sound as excited as I do, but I’m ecstatic, though I shouldn’t be.

This could be a nightmare.

Charlie is my boss, he’s so much older than me, and I’m currently pregnant, very pregnant , with another person’s baby. I don’t need to be lusting after a man I can’t have.

My sister squeals. “He’s hot. Definitely not as hot as Gabe, but still…”

“Please stop! Gabe’s old enough to have kids your age, and he’s Chevy’s closest friend. He watched you grow up! That’s gross.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” Her tone is playful with sarcasm.

“Whatever. This is different because I’m not into Charlie, and Charlie's not into me. He’s coming over because he pities me and I’m sure Chevy guilted the hell out of him.”

“That’s not what Gabe says…” Her tone is sing-songy and playful. I love my sister, but her energy is ten out of ten every day of the year. I run at a fourth of her energy on a good day.

“Oh, really? And what does Gabe say?”

“Gabe says that Charlie has to keep away because he doesn’t trust himself to be alone with you.”

A tingle of something I’ve never felt before rattles through me, and though I’m sure she’s wrong about what she thinks she heard Gabe say, I can’t help but flipping through the fantasy again. The one where I’m under his control and he’s using me like a sopping wet, little doll. I clear my throat. “Yeah, I highly doubt that’s the case, but thanks for the confidence boost. I don’t think he’d be coming over here tonight if he couldn’t trust himself.”

“Yet, he’s on his way. What are you feeding the man?”

“Feeding him?”

“Oh, God… and you’re the big sister? It’s six thirty in the evening and you have a giant man who’s worked all day coming over to help you with chores. You’re supposed to feed him.”

“I don’t cook.”

“You do tonight. What’s in your cupboards?”

“It’s literally ten minutes until he gets here. I don’t have ti—”

“What’s in your cupboards?” she barks.

I’d love to say I’ve never heard Mira this forceful, but I have. This is who she is.

I roll my eyes and stand from the wooden chair by the fireplace and make my way to the kitchen. This man is not into me, but I’d bet he is expecting something to eat considering it's dinner time and he’s about to finish his day off with manual labor as a favor to me and probably my brother.

God, what’s wrong with me? Pregnancy has my brain all kinds of broken, or maybe I was always this way.

“I have saltines, three cans of chicken noodle soup, a box of noodles, and some Cheez Whiz. It’s the spicy kind, which, regrettably, was not as good as I was hoping it would be.”

“What kind of pregnant lady are you?” she groans into the phone. “Your cupboards are bare!”

“The poor kind.” I laugh and open the fridge, hoping something will magically appear, like some homemade lasagna with garlic bread, but there’s no such luck.

“Well… pull out your crock pot, open those cans of soup, and make it look homemade.”

“What? No! That’s obvious.”

“And so is the fact that you’ve fed the man nothing.” I can almost hear her eyes rolling.

My baby sister might be right. I’m going to need to exchange the man something for all his hard work.

My clit twitches with a barter of its own in mind.

“Not the time,” I whisper to myself as his truck tires pop and roll up my stone driveway.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Please do.” My sister laughs as she hangs up the phone. We’ve never been super close. She’s a little younger, and well, there’s the energy thing. Where I see things more grounded, she sees opportunities. Where I see quiet, she sees space to be loud. We’ve spent a lot of time together, but our differences have definitely kept us further apart than we could be.

I haven’t had time to make fake soup when the doorbell rings. Maybe I could offer to drive into town and grab something, or I could pretend I’ve already ordered it, though I don’t really have the cash for that either.

Fuck my life!

Maybe he would accept a blowjob in return for all his help. I wouldn’t mind that trade, and maybe we can see what happens afterward.

As I walk to the door, my heart pounds, and panic settles in my throat. I’ve been trying to get this place cleaned up for months now, and I thought I was making headway, but suddenly, I’m seeing it through new eyes, and it’s a mess. The floors need to be refinished, the walls could use paint, the kitchen cabinets are falling off the hinges, and I haven’t even bothered with Christmas décor.

I don’t want to open the door. He can’t see me like this. He’ll know for sure I can’t handle my shit, and I don’t want him to think that about me. I want him to see me as a capable young woman who has her life together.

That said, I can’t leave him out in the cold. I draw in air and pry the door open slowly, unveiling a giant man holding a large pizza, a pie box from the diner, and two huge bottles of juice.

“I figured you weren’t drinking enough, given how busy you were today.” He lifts the bottles and shakes them gently in his massive hand. “Grape juice seemed like a good option.”

“I think I might love you,” I blurt, taking the boxes from his hands.

I need help. I’m not sure anyone has ever been so stupid.

“Wow, it’s that easy? I should’ve popped over with food a while ago.”

“Well, considering I was about to make canned soup and pass it off as homemade, this is the stuff love is made of.”

God, save me from myself!

“Good to know. Hopefully you like cheese. I wasn’t sure what to order, so I went with a classic.”

“It’s perfect, and you shouldn’t have, but thank you.”

“Sure. I ran into Mrs. Robinson at the diner. She said you liked the mile high pie, too.” He sets the juice on the table, which I also need to refinish. God, this thing is covered in scratches. “I love that woman. She’s a national treasure.”

Mrs. Robinson owned the general store until recently, though you can still find her helping out from time to time. Everyone loves her. She’s the sweetest woman in town, and though she’s probably old enough to be my great grandmother, she was like a mother figure to me, especially since my own mother never seemed to care for me much.

“She is. I stopped by last week and we made Christmas cookies. I think she’s lonely, though. Ever since Mr. Robinson died those few years ago, she hasn’t quite seemed the same, ya know? I invited her to Christmas this year, but she said she wanted to keep her traditions.”

“Speaking of Christmas… where’s your tree?” As Charlie looks around the room, his tattoo peeks a little more from his collar, no longer hidden along with his broad and strong shoulders.

He’s so hot. Tight jeans, a button-up shirt, all that ink… I’m not gonna last. In about three seconds, I’ll be known all over town as the girl who mauled her boss on top of a cheese pizza. The headline will read, ‘Innocent man, just looking to help.’

Oh shit, we were talking. “Yeah, I don’t have one.”

“You work at a tree farm, and you don’t have a tree?”

“Well, I’m a little pregnant these days, and as you can see, I have a lot left to do with the place. A tree is just something to put up so you can take it down again a month later. It’s not really a good use of my time. Besides, no one else is around to see my lack of Christmas spirit anyway.”

“That’s fair, but it’s the small things that make a difference,” he says, grabbing a slice of pizza from the box. “I think as you get deeper into the season, you’ll wish you had a tree. I’ll bring one over after the wedding. A little one, and I’ll take it down for you after the holiday. That way, it will be no effort on your part, and you’ll still get to have a tree.”

“Well, now you’re being way too nice to me, and now I know for sure that my sister is wrong.” Fuck! Did I say that out loud?

“Wrong about what?”

I grab a slice for myself and take a bite. It’s been a while since I had a takeout pizza. I forgot how great this stuff is, though right now, I’m more thankful for the full mouth because I have no idea how to clarify what I’ve just said.

“What’s your sister wrong about?” Charlie prompts again, pouring us juice into cups he grabs from the cupboard. I’m a terrible hostess. I should’ve at least offered to get him a glass.

“Oh, I don’t even remember now. Pregnancy brain!” Of course, that’s not true, but it’s the best I’ve got on the spot.

“Is that really a thing?”

“What?”

“Pregnancy brain,” he laughs.

“Of course. The other day stocking shelves at the general store, I looked up and completely forgot where the crackers went even though I was looking directly at them. I don’t know why it happens, but it happens all the time for me. I think I’d forget my birthday if it weren’t written on my license.”

“When is your birthday?”

“June sixth. Why?” After I’ve said it, I wonder if it was a trap to see if pregnancy brain is real.

“Well, I figure I need to know everything I can about you before the wedding.”

Turns out, this isn’t a test. Thank God for small miracles.

“I don’t think you’ll be doing much talking. If you can keep the woman in white away from me, that’ll do.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Kind of. My mom is the most judgmental person on the planet. I figured the wedding would be weird because she always has something to say about my body, or my hair, or something new I’m wearing, but now that she’s got this whole unwed pregnancy thing to glom onto, it’s going to be a circus of shit.”

Charlie laughs. “A circus of shit, huh? That’s a new one.”

“Well, get ready. My mom holds nothing back and I’m pretty sure she still blames me for the breakup with my ex. She loved him.”

“What happened with you guys?”

“He started out nice, and when we were around family, he’d ham it up, ya know? But when we were alone, and I wanted to talk about my feelings or whatever, he’d lose it. I mean, cursing, name calling… but I left when he punched a hole in the drywall. I wasn’t going to wait for my turn, so I broke up with him. I found out about the baby like three weeks later.”

“Did you tell him about the pregnancy?”

“No! God, no.”

I expect some judgment, because I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing, but Charlie nods.

“That’s smart. Sounds like he’d be a terrible father.” There’s something so comforting about a person who doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but validates your decision, like they trust you to be smart and understanding of what you need in your life.

“Anyway, thanks for listening. I haven’t told many people about the pregnancy yet. There was a time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the baby.”

Charlie nods again. “Why were you questioning it?”

“Fear. I want to be a good mother, but I don’t know how.” I feather my fingers back through my hair.

“I think wanting to be a good parent is the first step.” He leans in slightly. “If it’s any consolation, judging off what I know of you, I’d have loved having you as a mom.”

“Okay,” I say, glancing side to side. “Thanks.” I’m not sure how to take what he’s said given the fact that he’s my boss and most likely here out of pity, but his words are nice. They’re much nicer than anything anyone has said to me in a long damn time.

“Well,” he slides his hand down over his beard, breaking the thick air in the room between us before standing, “I should get to work. You stay here and eat. Call me if you need anything. I’m starting with the windows.”

My head reels with possibilities of what just happened. A second ago he was saying this super nice thing, and now he’s running off like he can’t stand the looks of me. Maybe everything I said just sunk in.

My cheeks heat uncontrollably. This is embarrassing. Looking back on that conversation, I’ve just presented myself as a massive loser who can’t find a decent partner, use contraception correctly, or feed herself. Oh, and I’ve confirmed that even my mother thinks I’m a mess.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m reading self-help books. I’m learning about not leading with emotion. All I have to do is apply the knowledge. Yet here I am, my thighs aching, my mind reeling, desperate to run after my boss and ask him if I did anything wrong and if I can make it up to him.

Fingers crossed he likes his bad girls on their knees.