His Heart for Christmas (Love is Back in Mistwood Hollow #1)

Chapter 2 - Josh

Fuck, I shouldn’t have let my volunteers leave for the day. I thought it would be a slower day since it’s so cold out, but now I have more to do than ever.

After making sure everyone up front is taken care of, I unload the truck of new freshly cut trees. The guys who chopped them down help a bit, but I know they’re exhausted too.

The smaller trees are easier to haul onto my shoulders before I stack them to the side, ensuring they’re not going to roll away and cause problems. After pulling the last tree from the truck bed, I set it down, shut the tailgate, and pat the vehicle. “You’re good guys.”

“We’ll bring more in a few days, Josh,” One of the guys calls from the warmth of the truck cab.

They head off and I turn, ready to start dividing up the pile. Once I haul a heavy four-footer onto my shoulder, I turn and find Emma. My heart skips a beat while my mouth gets suddenly dry. She’s walking towards me, clutching her bag in front of her. Her sweater looks warm, not just temperature-wise, but ... inviting.

Maybe it’s just her curves, they’re not overwhelming, but they look damn perfect. She’s the kind of woman that is meant to be cuddled by a fire, the kind of woman a man can’t resist wrapping himself around. Her wavy hair catches a breeze and slithers over her breasts while the rest fans around her.

Emma Thompson is definitely an adult now. There’s no denying it. Her bright hazel eyes dance with nervous excitement as she approaches. She licks her bottom lip as she looks down to step over something, then watches me from under her thick lashes.

God, she looks as innocent as a doe, but there’s so much more to her.

How can this be the same teenager that used to offer to decorate the front of the tree farm, always brought me hot chocolate, and wouldn’t leave until I’d given her a smile?

“Hi, Josh,” She greets, her cheeks heating as pink as her nose. She shivers slightly.

“You should have a coat on,” I say, my voice gruff and clear.

She blinks a few times, then laughs. “That explains the cold. I must have left it in the car.”

Some things don’t change. She’s still the most bubbly and easy going woman I’ve ever met. The kind that needs someone to protect her when her niceness is taken advantage of.

She takes a few steps closer and motions to the tree on my shoulder. “Isn’t that heavy? Do you want some help?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

I toss it down and watch the branches spread on one side.

“Are you alone this year? I could help out. I don’t have a job or anything yet. Taking care of the trees plus helping people is a lot to manage,” Emma comments.

“I can handle it,” I repeat, though I’m thrown by how she’s always this cheerful. It’s like being bathed in warm sunshine on a cold day. There’s no doubt she’s all woman, but that sweetness and effortless charm... it’s something else entirely.

I take a step closer to block the wind from her, but her scent wraps around me, filling my senses. It’s warm and bright, just like her—creamy vanilla with a hint of coffee and a subtle spice. No bitterness, only the cozy warmth of her fragrance and the radiance of her smile. And now, she speaks with a calm confidence, not a hint of hesitation.

She’s more confident, even if she’s not assertive.

Something in my chest expands uncomfortably and I shake my head. I clear my throat. “Are you looking for a tree?”

“My mom asked me to check to see what you have, as if she doesn’t know you always have the best trees,” she says with a little shrug. She rubs her arms, then over her sides. “Jeeze, I think it’s getting colder.”

She needs to leave. Every time the wind blows she steps closer to me and her curves are harder to ignore. Her perfect, perky breasts, her very grabbable hips, the way I want to drown myself in her scent and feel her knitted sweater against my skin.

I glance down at her boots and notice skin. My eyes sharpen and my voice comes out angrier than I intended, “are you not wearing pants? In this weather? Emma you-”

“They’re leggings,” she says, then grabs the fabric and pulls it away from her thigh before it snaps back in place, stretched around her toned legs. “They’re fleece lined. Honestly, my thighs are warmest right now. I should have worn something under my dress.”

My cock twitches. Since when do conversations about clothes make me hard? Even if it’s about Emma’s warm, toned thighs and what she’s wearing under that tight knitted sweater dress. Fuck, I bet she’s this sweet and soft in bed too. She’d be better to fall asleep with thanmy pillows.

She adjusts the top of her sweater dress, showing her collar bone as she tries to pull her dress up to cover her neck. Of course, it shows more of her thighs too. She’s either utterly unaware or blatantly flirting and I don’t know which I like less.

Guilt tinges at my nerves. I’m nearly forty and she’s just starting her adult life. I haven’t had any reaction, haven’t wanted any woman since my wife died, despite my friends trying to set me up.

Emma can’t be the first one to make me hard, especially when she’s not even trying. Shakin my head of the thought, I walk her over to the front and offer her my jacket. “If you’re staying to look for a tree, put this on.”

She stumbles slightly and braces herself against my chest, her hand spreading. Her heat sinks into me as her eyes meet mine. She pants, soft plumes of white fog leaving her lips in the dropping temperature.

“I, um ...” her whole face goes red as she keeps touching me, looking up at me as if I’m something brand new, shiny, perfect.

My stomach tightens and I fight with myself. Younger, too innocent, too sweet, not mine, she doesn’t mean it. I don’t want it . I repeat each reason to ignore her and this, but I know that last one is a lie considering my dick is rubbing against the back of my zipper with determination.

“Sorry, Josh. I guess my boots aren’t great for uneven land. I should ... I should go home.”

“Without a tree?” I ask, staring her down.

“I can come back when there are more helpers. You’re already swamped and I’m not in the right clothes to work ... today. We’ll see about tomorrow,” she says all in one breath.

She pushes off me, her eyes dipping to her fingers as they brush over my tank top. I stand rooted to the spot, watching her walk away. When she looks over at me, biting her bottom lip, it’s like my heart is beating for the first time all over again. I suck in a useless breath and shove a hand in my pocket, trying to get my dick and whatever this new, dangerous, unfamiliar feeling is, under control.

I can’t want Emma Thompson. I have a list of reasons that make it very clear.

And one lie ... a lie that’s going to damn me.