Stuck in Christmas (Holiday Magic #1)

Chapter 8

Eight

The drive to Dinkins Christmas Tree Farm was longer than expected, but the scenery was breathtaking. Snow-covered pine trees lined the road, creating a picturesque winter wonderland. When we finally pulled into the tree farm, my breath caught in my throat. Everywhere I looked, towering pines and majestic Douglas firs stood tall, their green boughs dusted with fresh snow. It felt like stepping into a postcard.

There was only one thing missing. “Where’s the tree lot?” I squinted through the windshield.

Eli hopped out of the truck and strode toward the bed. “This is it.” He pulled out an axe, slinging it casually over his shoulder.

My eyes widened in horror. “Uh, you’re not going to axe-murder me, are you?”

He glanced at the sharp tool and burst out laughing. “No. This is how we get the tree.” He tossed me a pair of heavy work gloves. “You’re going to need these.”

I stared at the gloves as my mind went to a blue screen, overwhelmed with the new information. This puzzle of… “Wait. Are we going to chop down the Christmas tree? Like actually chop it down?”

“Well, I’m going to do the chopping, but yes. We are going to cut down the Christmas tree.” Eli gave me a skeptical look. “What did you think we were doing in the middle of the woods?”

I blinked at him. “Oh, you know, a romantic trip to pick a Christmas tree.”

His blue eyes twinkled as he laughed. “What?”

“Never mind.” I slid the gloves on with an exaggerated sigh. “This is my first time cutting down a Christmas tree. It’s the first time I’ve even picked out a live one.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Growing up, we always had a fake tree. My mom’s allergic to real ones.”

Eli raised an eyebrow. “But your last name is Douglas. You’d think the Douglases would have a Douglas fir every year.”

“You’d think so, right?” I shook my head. “But nope. My mom insisted on a fake one. Although, ours did spin.”

“Spin?”

I smiled at the memory. “We had this stand that would slowly rotate the tree so you could see all the ornaments. I was always sad for the trees that didn’t spin.”

“Sad?” Eli leaned a little closer to me. “Why?”

“Because no one ever gets to see the ornaments on the backside,” I explained. “Those poor, neglected ornaments, hidden from the world.”

Eli graced me with another one of his dazzling smiles. “You’re funny.”

“I have my moments.” I glanced around the snowy landscape. “So… what’s the secret to picking the perfect tree?”

Eli pulled on his work gloves. “I could give you some song and dance about height, fullness, and needle-to-branch ratio, but honestly? You just know it when you see it.”

I covered my eyes with my arm and sighed dramatically. “And how long does this mystical ‘knowing it when we see it’ take?” I peeked at him underneath my arm.

“As long as it takes.” He winked.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help grinning at him. “It’s nice of you to help Ms. Bonnie like this.”

“I owe her my life,” Eli said quietly. Gone was the brilliant smile of earlier, and in its place was a thunderous expression that caused storms to gather in his blue eyes.

My smile faded as I turned to him. “How’s that?”

“She took me in when my parents died. Raised me like I was her son.”

My chest tightened at his words. “I didn’t know that. When did your parents pass?”

“I was seven.” His gaze drifted toward the trees, distant. “I remember them, but it’s more like photographs than movies, you know? Snapshots, but I can’t remember how my mom’s voice sounded.”

My heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry, Eli.”

He shook his head, but I could see the weight of those memories in his eyes.

“My dad died before I was born. He was deployed overseas, and his helicopter went down.” I swallowed, staring down at the snow-covered ground. “The only photo I have left of him is from their wedding day. My parents looked so happy together. That’s the image I cling to—just the two of them lost in their love.”

Eli gave me a long, sympathetic look. “Was he in the Army?”

“Marines,” I replied, my tone a little sharper, though I softened it with a smile. “Hoo-rah.”

The corner of Eli’s mouth tipped up, and my heart soared. “Hoo-rah! A fellow Marine. That’s no small thing.”

“You’re a Marine?”

“Joined for college money,” he said. “But I came back with much more than just tuition help.”

I leaned against the truck bed. This sounded like a story, and I loved a good story. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know,” Eli teased with a mischievous glint in his eye. “The ability to make a bed so tight you could bounce a quarter on it.”

I laughed. “That makes one of us.”

"That and some serious cooking skills," he added. "They found out I grew up working in a diner, so naturally, I ended up in the kitchen most of the time."

"Peeling potatoes?"

"Sometimes," he admitted with a grin. "But I worked my way up, eventually. I even became Armed Forces Chef of the Year three years in a row."

My eyes widened in surprise. “That’s impressive. But wait—you also have two Michelin stars, don’t you? At your restaurant?"

"I do," Eli nodded as he looked into the distance. "But winning Chef of the Year in the Marines is my favorite achievement. They’d give us a mystery basket of ingredients, and we had to create a four-course meal."

"How long did you have to pull off this culinary magic?"

"Not long," he huffed. "And no time for looking up recipes either. It’s where I got good at improvising in the kitchen."

"Sounds like pressure cooking at its finest."

“Pressure cooking,” he snickered. “Something like that." He tilted his head, looking thoughtful for a moment before asking, "What about your dad? What did he do in the Corps?"

I took a breath, feeling the familiar weight of my memories. "He was a helicopter pilot. He flew Marines in and out of combat zones. One day, he didn’t come back."

Eli looked at me, his voice soft and understanding. "I’m sorry."

"I never knew him.” I pushed down the wave of sadness that always followed this story. "Only through the stories my mom would tell."

"Did she ever remarry?" Eli asked gently.

"No. She always said she had two great loves. The first was my dad, and he gave her the second—me."

Eli’s expression softened, and we stood silently at the edge of the woods, filled only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees. "Sounds like you two are close," he said, his voice low and warm.

“Were." I blinked back the sting of tears. "She passed away three years ago. The day after Christmas. She always loved Christmas. Called it the most romantic time of the year."

"It is," he agreed softly.

“That’s when she met my dad at a Christmas party. They got caught under the mistletoe. She’d always say it was fate. She told me that story every Christmas, even our last one together. She’d tell it like it had just happened yesterday."

Eli took a step closer to me, his gaze locked on mine. "Some memories," he said quietly, "are so strong they feel like yesterday." He reached out, just inches from me, his hand hovering as if he wanted to touch me but wasn’t sure.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart raced as the space between us shrank. He was looking at me with a mix of tenderness and something else I couldn’t quite place. Desire? Longing?

"It probably has something to do with them being," I began, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Soulmates," Eli finished for me.

The word hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Time seemed to stop. Eli leaned in, his face just inches from mine, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the crisp scent of pine, and the lingering spice of his cologne filling my senses. But then my eyes caught something just beyond Eli’s shoulder.

"That’s it!" I cried.

Eli blinked. “Yes. It is.”

I pointed past him, excitement bubbling in my chest. "No, I mean, that’s the one. The tree we’ve been looking for. The perfect tree."

Without waiting for a response, I started toward the tree I had spotted, my boots crunching through the snow. But as I neared it, the toe of my boot caught on a hidden tree root, sending me toppling forward.

Right into the snowbank.

“Sugar,” I swore.

Five golden rings