A delicious cake. A guy who is late. Merry Christmas to all.

After the best Thanksgiving of her life, Lauren Hauser can’t wait to see Jack-the-pecan-hoarder so they can finally be in the same place at the same time. Long distance really doesn’t work when you’re head over heels!

But when Jack doesn’t turn up at the airport Lauren is left wondering if their relationship is really as great as she thought? Sure Jack’s kisses were delicious and when he looked at her, her knees felt weak, but what did they really know about each other?

A big Hauser family Christmas is just what is needed for this situation. Not only will her mom be decking the halls with boughs of monstrous-Christmas-decorations, but Lauren is baking a Christmas cake to once again claim dessert queen of the family! Will Jack fit in with the Hauser clan? Or will Lauren have to face the music…and accept that not every holiday romance was made for a happily ever after…

Also by Gina Calanni:

Home for the Holidays

How to Bake the Perfect Pecan Pie How to Bake the Perfect Christmas Cake How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie How to Bake the Perfect Wedding Cake

Ice Cream Dreams

Dream Come True Dream A Little Dream

How to Bake the Perfect Christmas Cake

Gina Calanni

www.CarinaUK.com

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Gina Calanni 2014

Gina Calanni asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781474020268

Version date: 2018-07-23

GINA CALANNI

currently resides where bluebonnets line the highways in the spring, but she prefers the rock flower anemone from under the sea. Above the ocean’s surface Gina likes to bake with her three boys and run like the ground is crumbling beneath her feet while being dragged along by her pooch, Schatzi, Music is the backbone of each one of Gina’s books and her favourite button to press is repeat. At the end of the day Gina’s glass of wine is always half full.

You can follow Gina on Twitter at @Gina_Calanni Instagram: @gina_calanni

Check out www.ginacalanni.com to keep up to date with the latest scoop in her life.

To Ethan, Beck, and Jude, the perfect Christmas cake is one shared with you.

To my mom, thank you for showing me that often the best gifts are the ones you make.

To my author consigliere, Tracie Banister thank you for your sage advice and guidance.

To my friend and critique partner Helen Rena, thank you for reading all of my stories and offering such valuable insight.

To my Gems, thank you for answering endless polls and supporting me and my books, y’all are as sparkly as they come.

Thank you to my editor Victoria, you truly bring out the best in my stories.

Thank you to the lovely team at Carina UK (Harlequin) you are such a supportive and wonderful group, I’m honored to be associated with you.

To my pooch Schatzi, who can’t read but I’m sure appreciates a mention, thank you.

To all the bakers of the world, the ones that follow the recipe and the ones who make it up as they go, this one is for you.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Excerpt

Endpages

About the Publisher

Copyright

Chapter One

“So, what’s the problem…is it the money?”

“No, it’s not the money.” I pick up my Santa bobble head pen my mom shipped to my office. She always sends something festive to my work. I think she realizes if I open the package here then everyone will want to see whatever it is and thus I’ll be forced to display it. In this case a bobble head Santa, he is wearing a cowboy hat and has a lasso. It’s a Countrified Santa.

“Well then, what is it? Come on, Lauren, we’re not that miserable to be around.”

“Megan, it’s not that,” I say as I scribble on the yellow lined notepad at my desk. I don’t want to have this conversation while I’m at work. It’s bad enough sharing a wall with my coworker Leena, but for conversations like these, it’s almost as if her ears are against my phone’s receiver. I prefer using my headphones but Megan called me on my direct line which is connected to my black desk phone, not to my computer.

“Well then what is it?” Megan asks. The tone in her voice is harsh. I get it, I do. I ‒ rather we ‒ always come home for Christmas, stay until January 2nd, it’s our tradition, our thing. Spending time with our family etc. But this year I don’t want to go home. It’s not because of the money. I have money. I’m maxing out my 401k contribution and I have the little luxuries in life, like highlighted hair every six weeks and Starbucks whenever I want ‒ which is a lot. Maybe I should be cutting back on the frothy foam, especially with cookie central roaming around the office, every cubicle is filled with plates of the latest and greatest decorated cookies or store-bought candies. I can’t escape a nibble here or a mint there. I appreciate the sweetness of Mrs. Claus, but in no way do I want to have the appearance of something round and chubby. I need to figure out a game plan for avoiding those tasty treats. Especially with Leena. It’s almost as if she can sense my lack of self-control and takes pleasure in my sugar overdose downfall. Typical schadenfreude person. It couldn’t be any more obvious. But shiat, what can I do? I have a freaking sweet tooth. I clench my tummy, that’s right, do some ab workouts at the desk. Even if I’m only burning a few calories. I’m reminded of that silly phrase: muscles are made at the gym and abs are made in the kitchen, but for some reason squeezing my stomach feels good and like I’m doing something. Surely I must be burning some calories or even toning my abs.

I mean, I get it…I’m no Jamie Easton, but I’m definitely not Mrs. Claus. Definitely not Mrs. Claus. First of all, I’m single. All alone. Expected to have a blue Christmas without you I hum in my head. My blue Christmas is due to one cause. Jack. Damn. It sucks to be single and unattached. I’m not really on the hunt for a Mr. Claus, but if the younger, more svelte version of a happy jolly soul came knocking at my door (and obviously it would have to be my door, since I can’t imagine a guy coming down my chimney), well, let’s just say I might answer.

Who I wouldn’t answer to is Jack. Jack Walker. Jack Walker, Mr. All-Business-Wooed-Me-With-His-Pecans over Thanksgiving and then, two weeks later, was a no show. A no show. The guy stood me up at the airport. Not the movies, not a fancy restaurant, not the airport. As in, I’ll meet you at baggage claim, I’ll watch all the happy people greet their loved ones swinging them around in circles, handing over bouquets of flowers, joking about the airplane food or lack thereof until finally, finally, I was left alone, watching the luggage carousel circle round and round. An airport employee asked if my luggage didn’t make the trip. I nodded and walked away. That’s it for me and baggage.

No. I do not want to come home this year for Christmas. I do not want to have to deal with the questions about where’s Jack? How are things going with him? Did he come visit you? Because I don’t have the answer to any of those questions. And now, now I don’t want them. Just like him.

My computer screen would normally have a snowy scene, but now it has a tide washing up on shore. I’m pretending it’s actually summer time. The connection program we use is in the upper right-hand corner. I have several calls to take in my queue. Clients are waiting to hear what I have to say. Clients that are not going to stand me up, but are actually holding the line for me.

“Hey, listen, Megan, I really have to get back to work,” I say glancing at the phone cord, I want to twist it, but that will only remind me of him. This is something I don’t want to do, so instead I doodle little Christmas trees with lights on them. Candy canes hanging along the branches and at the top a star. This reminds me of how Jack called my grandmother a shining star, I close the spaces in between the star and it looks kind of like a dreidel. Which is really weird for a dreidel to be on top of a Christmas tree. I drop my pen and sigh. Even in my doodles I can’t escape Christmas.

“Fine, but we’re going to talk later about this,” Megan says. The buzzing of the dial tone rings in my ear.

I put the black plastic receiver down and count to ten in Italian, I like to count in Italian before speaking to my clients. They speak English, as do I, but I feel like counting in Italian really cheers me up and puts my vocal chords where they need to be, a pleasant yet in control of the conversation tone.

My finger hovers over the mouse and I’m about to make touchdown on a good solid click, when an instant message pops up on my screen. It’s my boss. Javier. What could he want? Shiat, I hope Leena didn’t tell him I was on a personal call. I can imagine her hearing my conversation ending and rushing over to his office. He actually has a real office. The rest of us have cubicles. Our walls are tall to make you think you’re in an office, except there is no real privacy. I mean, I prefer it over my other positions where we had half walls and could see each other. Imagine talking to a client on the phone and knowing all of your coworkers can see and hear you. I hate being under a microscope. Well, I guess hate is a bit strong. I don’t like being on display. Here, I’ve got my walls, but there is no sound barrier.

I inspect the message box.

“Lauren, when you get a moment, please come to my office.”

Hmm, a moment. This doesn’t sound urgent, but it does pique my curiosity enough to log out of my call box. I place my headphones down on my desk and comb my fingers through my hair. I didn’t do anything wrong. Javier might need to make sure what my travel dates are, so he knows our lines are covered. He knows I always go home for Christmas and my time off was scheduled months in advance. Months before I met Jack and months before he didn’t show up. I sigh.

I rub my lips together and push in my chair. I’ve got a nice leather one, it’s an upgrade. I got it for being the top resolution consultant. Almost everyone else has a fuzzy uncomfortable seat. I pat the chair and exit my cubicle.

Javier’s office is not too far from my own space. I saunter in my knee-high boots and tweed skirt with my mauve angora sweater. I love winter fashion in Maryland. We have so many opportunities to layer, which isn’t even heard of in Texas where I grew up. The most layering people do is a tank top with a cardigan or a scarf. But here I can layer tights, sweaters, tops, blouses, scarves, coats, gloves, the list goes on for days and even with all those layers I am still cold outside. We have actual winters here, not like in Austin. I have snow boots, because they are needed here, whereas in Texas it is more of a fashion statement and a silly one at that. When it drops to the seventies in Texas, people drag out their winter gear as if there is a real need for it. Seventy degrees! We don’t pull out our winter gear here until we drop below sixty. And the die-hards wait until the temperature hits below fifty degrees.

I tap my knuckles on Javier’s door. It’s pressed wood with a thick layer of laminate over the top of it.

When I get the go-ahead, I open the door to see Javier smiling at me. He is dressed for success, as he often says during meetings, in his dark-navy suit with a Santa tie, it must be a gift from one of his kids. They always get him festive ties for presents. Javier is good dad and wears the flashy ties, which are quite different from his typical low-key striped conservative ones.

“Hey, Lauren, how are you?” He reaches out to shake my hand. It’s a firm, warm grip. His hands are always warm but not clammy which is good.

“Good, how about you, Javier?” I step inside his office and he gets up to shut the door behind me.

Javier is a large man with a full head of jet-black hair. He mentions from time to time about his hair being a true gift from his mother’s side of the family. He sits down at his desk and I slide into one of the maroon chairs in front of it. I tap the arm of the seat. Leather. I breathe in deep. I don’t want to seem nervous in front of him.

“Lauren, I’m going to cut right to the chase.” Javier pushes some stark white papers around on his desk and stares at me.

“Yes?” I say. Internally I’m dying, am I about to get fired? For a two-minute phone call with my sister? That’s ridiculous.

“We’ve been going over the reports and looking at your call times.” Javier stacks the papers on top of each other.

Shiat, I knew it. That damn Leena. Like she doesn’t take personal calls. Arghh.

“Lauren, your call times and balance-management skills are incredible. We are doing a disservice to our company and our clients keeping you in your current position.” Javier’s eyes are scouting my face. He’s reading me, waiting for my reaction.

I can’t believe I am hearing him correctly. I blink. Yup, this is real. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from speaking to soon. Sometimes, waiting to speak is better than blurting things out.

“We want to promote you and give you your own team.” Javier’s mouth forms a large grin.

My eyes widen, dost my ears deceive me? Did I just get the biggest promotion of my life?

“Wow, Javier, that’s really great. Can you give me more specifics?”

Javier laughs. “I knew you would want to talk numbers and that’s why we want to move you up. Here is a packet filled with everything you need to know about this new position, including the numbers. Take it home tonight and read it over. If you decide that you want to take this route with your career, you would begin in January after your Christmas break.”

Javier stands up and offers me the stack of papers from his desk. I take them and shake his hand.

It seems like the right thing to do. I know shaking his hand doesn’t mean I’ve accepted the position, but it is a business meeting and those typically end with a handshake. If I hadn’t already eaten lunch, I would rush out to the nearest diner and request the “business woman’s lunch special” in my best Romy accent.

***

About a year ago I did the wise and responsible thing and invested in some real estate. I bought a three-story townhouse. It’s colonial style, which I love. The bricks are burnt red and the shutters are kettle black. It was built in the sixties and two huge oak trees stand tall in my front yard. I’m pretty happy with my little home. It has all the nice features one could hope for; a walk-in closet, a garden-size tub and a fireplace. My fireplace has never actually been used other than as a spot to light my candles. Ten various-sized white candles currently sit in the hearth, I switch the colors throughout the year. I bought some red and green ones to make the fireplace look more Christmassy, but I haven’t really been in the mood to decorate. My box of Christmas décor is still sitting in my attic.

I am sad about the idea of not going home for Christmas, but I don’t want to hear about Jack or, worse, run into him. After I got home from the airport, alone, I sat on my gray suede couch for a good long period. I twirled the tassels on my lavender chenille pillows until I finally checked my phone. There was one voicemail. Not five, no, just one. The message didn’t really explain why I had made a wasted trip to the airport or why Jack had not made the flight. The message simply said:

“Hi, Lauren, this is Jack. I’m sorry but I can’t make the trip. I’ll talk to you soon.”

That’s it. Who does that? Who plans a trip to see someone you’ve been texting, calling, emailing, Facetiming with for a couple of weeks straight and then drops off the face of the planet? Well, I’m sure he didn’t drop off the face of the planet. But I hadn’t heard from him since. I didn’t try and call him because I was pissed and hurt. I was hurt even more when hours went by and then days of silence. No texts, no calls, no email, no flowers at my desk. To say I’m completely and utterly confused as to why I hadn’t and still haven’t heard from Jack would be an understatement.

Tonight will be different though, I’m going to go out with friend Brianna. Brianna has recently broken up with her boyfriend of six months. Of course, her relationship has had its ups and downs, but we had both agreed about tonight’s plans. We were going to focus on being Single Ladies. Uh oh uh and all that. Though my relationship with Jack was short-lived, Brianna is in a different predicament. Their relationship had been long enough to have a ring put on it. Tonight, we are going to be strutting to a different ballad, we are going to be dancing queens and paint the town red. Well, not really the town, more like a fun dinner and maybe a movie. We hadn’t really set anything in stone because we are living freely. Young, wild and free, we made no concrete plans nor are in any committed relationships.

I sashay past my queen-size bed. I could have bought a king-size bed because my room is big enough for it. But I am only one person and a female, queen-sized seemed to make sense. I alternate my comforters with the seasons. I like to keep my house cooler than most people. There are three layers of covers on my bed. The top layer is a red comforter with a black fleur-de-lis print down the middle, then a red thick blanket, and then finally my gray sheets. They are only one shade of gray, however. My house went through a major renovation before I purchased it. The master room closet has French doors, which make me happy every time I stand in front of them. I grab onto the silver knob turn it to the right and swing it open. No matter how many times I have done this, it still reminds me of stepping into a secret wardrobe. This is by far the largest closet I’ve ever owned and sometimes I wonder if I could ever get lost in it. Ha!

I traipse into my closet. I have four rows of clothes to choose from and one long spot in the back for my dresses and ball gowns. Ha, like I have ball gowns!

I scan my clothes, trying to decide which daring assemble fits my mood. Something to cheer me up and make me feel fantastic. Black leather. Yes, black leather is the perfect material to rockify my evening. I grab my black leather skirt and match it with a navy capped sweater with a bit of lace at the lining. Smoky eyes tonight for sure. The top slides over my skin, though lace is pretty, I’m glad there is a satin lining underneath it so I don’t have to deal with the scratchiness. I slip into the skirt and Boom! This outfit is dangerous. My jet-black pumps with silver nuts bolted to the outside of the toe complete my look. I stare at myself in the mirror that is attached to the back of one of my closet doors. This was an upgrade I installed myself. I’m pretty DIY. It only took me measuring the location for the screw holes four times before I got it right. Look out HGTV, I’m on a DIY mission. I laugh at the idea of my own home improvement show.

I pick up my phone from the bed and press the home button. I have zero messages. Nothing. I push the button to darken my screen and my phone vibrates. It’s a text message.

“Lor Lor, I’m super-sorry but Owen called and he wants to meet me for drinks. I’ll be a little late, but go to Ravens and I promise I’ll meet you there. Xs Bri.”

My chest tightens and I exhale. I cock my head to the side and text Brianna back.

“OK, see u there.”

Now, whether or not I will actually see Brianna there is another thing. I’ve already rated this outfit as dangerous and obviously at the bare minimum I need to do a flyby. I’m definitely not going to sit at home on Friday night in leather and lace and stare at my candle-lit fire. I can hear Bridget Jones’ drunken anthem of “All By Myself” playing. I close my eyes. Not a pretty sight. No way am I turning into pajama girl tonight. No, I can handle going out alone.

I strut into my living room and switch on my silver crystal globe light that sits on my mahogany end table in my living room. I always leave one light on when I exit. The idea of coming home to a dark house scares me. I stride to the door and flick off the overhead lights and pull the door shut. My key slides easily into the hole and I turn it right. Righty tighty makes for a secure house. I tiptoe down the hickory stairs carefully, slow is key in these heels. I safely make it to my car and climb in. Immediately, I sync my phone to the radio. I need something blaring to listen to. ‘Sabotage’ by the Beastie Boys, oh yes…as the wwwka wwwka wwwka comes through the speakers, I back my car out of the garage. To the left, a guy is strolling up the sidewalk. A tall guy. A honk distracts me. In my rear-view window is a lady in a car ‒Shelly Washington, scratch that, the woman, because she doesn’t exactly fit the term of “lady” as evidenced right now. Her hand is glued to her horn and the other is giving me the finger, the middle finger. I shake my head. Nice, Lauren, go with nice. I wave at her and give her the thumbs-up. Like I’m saying, “Hey cool, thanks,” but really my thumbs-up means, “Why are you such a beotch?”

I ease up on the brake and continue to pull out of my garage, then I put the car in gear and drive out of our shared parking lot. Not everyone has a garage in our community. I can still hear Shelly’s horn as I pull out on to the main road which is next to our neighborhood. Neighborhood, yes what a nice neighborhood, with such sweet and patient people. Well, some of them are nice like Mrs. Mullins who always offers to water my plants when I’m gone, but I really think she wants to rummage through my things. I’ve seen her more than once going through the trash. Not the type of dumpster diving for big items. No, actual digging through the bags of trash. Trash which has used coffee filters and banana peels. It’s not like she is looking for anything of monetary value, because sitting right next to the bags she was digging through, was a good looking dresser. A piece of furniture which I had my eye on. I was waiting for her to leave the scene. I could have grabbed it. But I didn’t want to disrupt her pillaging of the trash bags. I’m not sure if she would have minded if I interrupted her dumpster diving, but I wanted to show respect for whatever she was doing. I’m not sure if it was for a living or what.

Of course Bob Dickenson didn’t wait or care about Mrs. Mullins and walked right out to the pile and picked up the dresser and carried it into his house. It would have made an additional storage piece for me. It was perfect for a DIY project. The type of project I could have pinned on Pinterest. And all of my plans for the dresser disappeared as Bob closed his door. It’s not like any of us can’t afford to buy brand-new furniture, but there is a difference between brand-new furniture and solid wood furniture. Besides, I think it’s safe to say we are all part of the big DIY phase. I’ve seen Bob Dickenson come home with truckloads of furniture. I bet he sells his finished projects on Craigslist. He’s definitely a furniture flipper. I wouldn’t be surprised if he trolls the streets on garbage day grabbing up all types of things and then sells them. He’s always seemed to be one of those wheelin’ and dealin’ types.

Brrr, it is cold. I click the top of the circle with what looks more like a nine iron than a seat up a few notches. Come on, baby, bring on the heat! In the rear-view mirror there’s a guy who looks like Jack in the white car behind me. I shake my head. Obviously it’s not him. How could it be him? I shake my head at the nonsensicalness. My hair falls over my shoulder. I remember being in the car with him on the day we met. My hair was a wreck. I sigh. I need to get him out of my head. The light above turns green and I glance in the mirror again but the guy is out of my line of sight. Honk! Honk! Good grief, what’s with the horns today? I get it I’m on the east coast but this isn’t NYC where horns of various levels are blown all hours of the day and night. Further, where is everyone’s holiday spirit? People are being a bit on the rude side. I guess this comes along with the cynicism about Santa not being real.

I refuse to give up this idea. It’s possible. He could be real or at least the idea of him. I think people can be Santa and make special things happen for others. This year I’m not sure what I would ask for if given the opportunity. Of course world peace and to lose a few more pounds. But is there anything tangible I want or need? Something I can’t or haven’t bought for myself? The ceiling provides no answers. My lips purse, forming wrinkles. Wrinkles on my under-thirty-year-old self.

The route to Ravens is somewhat straightforward, not a bunch of twists and turns from my place. Surprisingly I find a parking spot pretty close to the entrance. A win for me. Especially since it’s a Friday night and I am alone. Being close to the entrance of a place at night is a big deal. I put my gear in park and turn the key to the right. I blow out through my mouth. I can do this. I rub my lips together and pull on the car handle to open myself into the dark parking lot. There are a few street lights, but not enough to provide a lit path to the front of Ravens. I click the button on my keys and the beep, beep noise goes off. Yes, my car is locked. I stride with confidence to the doors and take a deep breath. You can do this, Lauren. You’ve gone out alone before and, besides, Brianna did say she would arrive at some point. The freezing temperature forces me not to hesitate.

The metal is cold against my fingers as I push the door open. The heat from the bar blows across my face as I step in. This is my kind of place. It’s swanky, dim lights and low music. There are lots of ivory leather couches and jet-black suede chairs fitted with chrome legs all around the bar, giving the opportunity for good talks, and in the back of the place is a small dance floor. Maybe later I will do a few twirls around it. I smile, thinking about the last time Brianna and I danced together. We like to do our own version of Romy & Michelle’s “Kid ’N’ Play” number. It’s choreographed well and we always get a few cheers from the crowd and several rounds of drinks offered.

Since I’m alone, I head for the bar. Obviously, I wouldn’t sit on a big couch by myself. The last time I sat at a big couch alone in a bar I could practically hear the pitiful chatter about me. As if I had been stood up by my date. If they only knew the reality. The only date to ever stand me up was at the airport. I shake my head and purse my lips. Don’t go there, Lauren. I’m about to grab a seat when my arm is being pulled. I turn around. I’m ready to go full ninja on whoever is trying to accost me in a public place.

“Lauren! I’m so glad you came.” Brianna grabs me in a tight squeeze. I sigh and hug her back and then drop my hands down to her arms. She is dressed like a fashion model as usual, with her bright-emerald-green cocktail dress with the perfect opal bauble necklace, accompanied by her new Brian Atwood color-blocked gladiator heels. I wish I had her shoe budget. But then again, she is a real estate agent in a hot market. Maybe with my new promotion I will be on the same level of Brianna with her shopping sprees. Ha, probably not but one can dream.

“Where’s Owen?”

“He’s over there,” Brianna points to the far corner of the room. Her shiny raven hair swings as she turns her head. Owen is wearing his office attire, he’s a stock broker for a big firm. He is a few years older than us, but no real signs of gray yet. Although, if I were in that line of business with the type of stress he encounters, I think I would look like Meryl Streep in 101 Dalmatians. I’m sure when I go gray it will look similar with those chunky stripes. Except I will color it. My hair stylist had the gall to tell me the other day that he found a gray. I almost cried in the chair. He must have sensed my concern and changed his story to it being a blond hair and then dropped the evidence before I could inspect it myself.

“We got a table, I told him about how we were going to hang out tonight and he said it was wrong to cancel, well I didn’t cancel, but put off our plans, so anyways here we are!” She squeezes me again.

“Oh, that was nice of Owen, but I don’t want to impose on your date…especially if y’all are still rekindling things.” My eyebrows are furrowed. I’m more than a little surprised to see Brianna or Owen for that matter.

“Don’t be silly,” Brianna shoves my shoulder a little and links arm with me, practically dragging me to her table, or rather their table. I really don’t want to be a third wheel.

At the table, Owen stands up. “Hey, Lauren, it’s good to see you.” He gives me friendly hug.

“You too, Owen.” I pat his back and sit down.

“Oh my gosh, the service tonight has suuuucked. I’m going to go to the bar and buy you a drink, wine or fancy schmancy tini?” Brianna grabs her purse.

“I can get it.”

“Absolutely not! I’m so happy you’re here, first rounds on me. Which one is it going to be?” Brianna pushes me down in my chair.

“Surprise me.”

“You know I love surprises.” Brianna winks at me and heads for the bar.

“So…how are things going?” Owen asks as he takes a sip of his gin and maybe tonic.

“Good. Real good. How about you?” I play with the straps on my purse. I’ve never had to deal with small talk and Owen. It’s weird because I have a portfolio of information about him. His likes, his dislikes, his quirks and funny mannerisms, it’s completely information overload and now here I am sitting in front of him without Brianna.

“Same. So when do you head home for Christmas?” Owen asks, taking another sip, he’ll be done with his drink before Brianna returns with mine.

“Oh, I’m not going home this year.” The bar is packed and I can’t even find Brianna in the crowd, I glance back at Owen and see a tall guy standing against the wall alone. Which is odd, because why would anyone stand near the wall of a bar and not actually be near the bar? The lights are low, but for some reason he looks like Jack. Most likely because I can’t stop thinking about him. Lauren, get a grip.

“Lauren?” Owen is staring at me, like he’s irritated or something?

“Yes?”

“I asked you why you aren’t going home.” Owen said, swallowing the last of his drink.

“I’m sorry. I thought I saw someone that I knew over there. I’m not going home, well, to be honest because of that person.” I shake my head. I can’t believe I spoke those words out loud. But then again, it’s not like Owen is going to call my family and tell them. After the nonsense fell from my mouth, I’m struck by how silly I’m being.

“So the person is a guy and you aren’t going home because of him?” Owen asks, eyebrows pushed together.

“I know after I said it out loud…I realize how ridiculous that sounds.” I shake my hair back and laugh. From the corner of my eye I steal a glance at the wall, the guy is gone.

“Yeah, it does sound ridiculous, but what happened? What did he do that was so bad that would make you not want to see your family at Christmas?” Owen runs his hands through his hair.

“Well, he was supposed to come see me a few weeks ago, and then he didn’t.” Where is Brianna? This is taking far too long.

“Maybe something came up. Did he contact you at all?” Owen grabs a hold of a waiter that is walking by.

“Seven and Seven and two Holidaytinis.” He hands the waiter his card.

What is taking Brianna this long? She should be sitting here with Owen, not me.

“Maybe I should go and check on Brianna, she’s been gone for a while.” I stand up.

Owen nods and pulls out his phone.

I march over to the bar. There isn’t an open seat. I peer through the crowd of people searching for any sign of Brianna. A warm hand latches onto my arm and pulls me away from the crowd. I cast my eyes down at the hand and then follow it all the way to the pressed button-down shirt of a guy. A guy with sandy-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Eyes that draw me in. It’s Jack. Jack?

“Jack, what are you doing here?” I shake my arm out of his embrace.

“I came to see you.” Jack grabs for my hand. Here he is, standing in front of me. Am I going nuts? I take him in, all of him. Here he is, in the flesh, with those same sparking blue eyes with flecks of green. They are staring back at me, searching for a response.

“Okay.” My lips are trying to form words, sentences, questions, something.

“Lauren, I’m sorry about before. I didn’t want to call or text, I wanted to ‒ I needed to talk to you about it in person. That’s why I’m here.” He gathers my body in towards his. His shirt is soft against my skin, his arms are strong around my waist, pulling me in closer to him. I inhale and his minty scent mixed with apples and sandalwood rises up, awakening my senses. These emotions can’t simply be swiped away.

“Let’s get out of here.” Jack leads me towards the exit and I begin to follow.

“I can’t.” I pause and search the crowd for Brianna.

“Why? Are you on a date?” Jack’s chest pumps out and a vein begins to throb on the side of his throat.

I smile. “Yes, I am…” I wait a second as his eyebrows furrow. “With my friend Brianna, that’s her boyfriend, Owen, over there.” I point to the table where Owen is sitting at alone. His drink and the two Holidaytinis have arrived, but not Brianna.

“I see.” Jack says.

“Come on, I want to introduce you to them.” I pull him over towards the table. Even though I’m not technically dragging him, the weight of his body is cumbersome as I lead the way, he is putting up a bit of a resistance in his step. He is not coming over easily. Reminds me of how my niece Winter drags her heels when we have somewhere important to go and she isn’t finished playing with her dolls.

“Hey, Owen, this is Jack.” I raise my eyebrows at Owen. Hopefully, he will understand who Jack is and not out me for my earlier wallowing.

The guys exchange greetings as I head for the bar to find Brianna. Where could she be? I peek in between the crowded people to see if I can get a spot of her. Absolutely no signs, not even her signature laughter. I make my way to the end of the bar and lock eyes on a glimpse of her small frame. She is closed in behind two big NFL football player types. I try to push through but I am unable to get them to budge. I pry my head in between the cracks of their arms.

“Brianna? Can you come on back to our table?” I push my fingers into the guys’ sides. Do they seriously not feel my fingers poking them? Good grief.

“Lauren? Hey, guys, can you step aside, my friend is trying to push through.” Like trained dogs, the red sea parts and Brianna is no longer a sliver but her entire frame is visible.

“Hey, Jack is here.” I say and nod my head in the direction of our table, the spot where we are supposed to be sitting.

“What? Jack?” Brianna stumbles off the stool and cranes her neck to see. I ignore any possible drinks she might be abandoning and guide her over to our table.

“Jack, this is my friend Brianna.” I wave my hand like Vanna White in front of a glowing rectangular box.

Jack stands up and shakes Brianna’s hand. “So, Jack. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Brianna slides into Owen’s lap barely missing spilling his drink. She takes it from his hand and takes a sip.

Jack smiles at her. How many rounds has Brianna had between the time she left to get my drink and returning to our table? I don’t want to hang around for a Brianna unraveling, I know we have only a short amount of time now before her night is technically over.

“Hey, we have a bunch of catching up to do, so we’re going to go.” I grab onto Jack’s arm. He offers his hand to Owen. Brianna swipes it away. “No. Come on. You both just got here, I want to chat.”

“Bri, I think we need to leave too.” Owen says, standing, which forces Brianna to stand as well. She grabs onto his arms to steady herself. I give her a ‘get a control on yourself’ glare. She doesn’t want me to enforce the pinch of reality check on her. I can tell by her eyes, she is aware of this fact and she nods in recognition.

We wave goodbye and Jack opens the door into the cold dark night.

Chapter Two

The entire drive home, my eyes switch between the road and the rear-view window. I don’t want to lose sight of Jack. He said he would follow me home. But I can’t help it, I fear he won’t. Quite possible one little turn and ‒ poof! ‒ he won’t be there.

I hit the pewter gray clicker on my visor to open my garage and glide my car in. I step outside and close my car door. I bite my lip and wait. It’s cold in my garage. I bounce up and down until Jack arrives. Even though I would prefer for him to enter through my front door instead of my garage, I forgo formalities and show him in through the garage door which leads into my laundry room. Thankfully, I have no delicate undergarments hanging to dry as we pass the washing machine and dryer. I trek up the stairs with Jack at my heels. I unlock the door which leads into my living room.

“So this is my house.” I wave my arm around the room.

“It’s nice.” Jack nods.

I bite my lip and make my way to the kitchen. I didn’t even get to try my holiday-tini. Hopefully, Brianna left it as well. She seemed to have hit her max. However, I on the other hand am in need of a drink – I can’t believe I have Jack-the-no-show in my house. As I reach to open the wine glass cabinet Jack pulls me in close to him.

“I’ve missed you.” He kisses me. The flickering sensations are there, but I’m confused. I’m not ready to lock lips with Jack. Not yet. I need to know why he didn’t come. Why he stood me up.

I pull back from his embrace. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure.” He lets go of my waist.

The blood in my body is heated, but I’m not rushing into anything. I grab a Cabernet from my wooden wine rack and unscrew the cork. Pop. From the cupboard I select two of my favorite wine glasses and pour a healthy amount into each one. A lot of wine is probably necessary for whatever it is he wants to say.

I give him one of the glasses. “Thank you. Do you want to sit down and talk?” he asks.

“That sounds good.” I take a swallow. It’s surreal to be standing in my kitchen with Jack, especially since I didn’t think I would see him again, let alone in my house. And definitely not in my kitchen, it’s like one of those puzzles where you have to figure out what doesn’t belong. I had never imagined Jack in my kitchen. Well, I had prior to him being a no show at the airport. But then all of those thoughts vanished and everything prior to them didn’t seem real.

Jack grins at me. “Where should we sit?”

I laugh, “Let’s go in the living room.” I lead him around the entryway of the kitchen and back into my living room where my seating consists of a couch and leather chair. I suppose we’ll sit on the couch next to each other. I stop midway and slide back onto to the gray suede microfiber.

Jack takes a sip of his wine and places the glass on my hickory coffee table. A garage sale find, I got it for twenty bucks and it’s made out of solid wood, not pressed-going-to-break-any-moment-wood.

“Lauren, you look great. I haven’t seen you in leather.” Jack tugs on my skirt.

I smile. “Well, technically, Jack, you haven’t seen me in much.” I laugh, realizing my faux pas.

Jack smiles. “I wish that were the case.”

“I mean, you haven’t seen me that much in person.” I take a sip of my wine.

“I know what you meant, Lauren. Anyways. Listen, I’m truly sorry I didn’t show up at the airport. I came here to explain it to you in person.” Jack rubs my thigh and reaches for my hand.

“You said you didn’t have any kids.” I blurt out.

“Kids? What? I don’t. Why would you say that?” Jack lets go of my hand.

“Uh, nothing. I just figured whatever held you up had to be important…like a child.” I stare at my glass. My cheeks are warm and it’s not from the wine. I’m embarrassed. Why can’t I play it cool?

“Well, it is important, but it’s not a child. It’s Vintage Estates.” Jack picks up his glass and takes a long swallow. His Adam’s apple flexes.

“Vintage Estates, is it okay? Did it catch on fire? Is my grandmother safe?” I stand up. I’m freaked out, I need to find my phone and call my parents.

“Lauren, it’s okay. Your grandmother is fine. There was no fire. Well, not physical fire.” Jack takes another sip of his wine like he’s taking his time trying to find the right words.

I sit back down next to him and squeeze his arm. “What do you mean, Jack?”

Jack shakes his head. “It’s well, things are on fire as in the red. When my brother died, Sherry his widow took over running the financial side of things and I was supposed to manage the rest of the place. Her job was the books.” Jack picks up his glass and finishes the remains of his wine. I stride back to the kitchen for the bottle and when I return Jack has his hands in his hair. His soft hair. I want to have my fingers in it too. But not yet, I need to figure out what has him so bothered, this is so out of character for him. He always seems so confident.

“What is it, Jack?” I pour some more wine into both of our glasses.

“Anyways, like I said her job was the books and now, well, she’s booked it.” Jack takes a sip of his wine.

“What?” I don’t understand what he’s trying to say.

“She’s gone, Lauren. Sherry left with everything. She fudged the books for a while until she siphoned all of the money from the home into a different account of hers and took off. The police have her last spot in Jamaica. Now, who knows?” Jack runs his fingers through his hair.

“Wow.” Is all I can manage to say. I’m floored. I’m shocked. I’m stunned. I flitter my eyes, trying to bring clarity to this situation. I rub my lips together. I’m parched. I take another sip of my wine.

“Exactly.” Jack takes another long swallow and stares at me. His eyes are full of worry and stress, it’s clear now how upset he is. The dark circles under his lashes indicate a severe lack of sleep.

“What are you going to do?” I rub his arm. His muscles are flexed. I’m sure the tension is not for my enjoyment but due to stress. Regardless of the reason, they are firm. I blink. I need to get a grip. I need to be there for him, not merely physically but emotionally.

“I’m going to let the authorities do what they can and try to figure things out.” He moves his head as though he is shaking off a bad memory. “Listen, I’m sorry to concern you with any of this. But I needed you to know why I didn’t come before.” He picks up my hand and kisses my knuckles one by one.

“I don’t know what to say.” I study his eyes. Eyes which are circled by a shade of sleeplessness nights still send me tugging sensations in all regions of my body.

“Say, you aren’t mad at me, that you won’t hold it against me.” Jack brings up my other hand to his mouth and repeats each kiss.

“Jack, that’s ridiculous, how could I be mad at you?” I squeeze his hands. I glance up at him. “However, you could have left more than one voicemail.” I focus on the floor. I’m happy Jack is here, but I was left in the dark for quite a while.

“I know and I’m sorry.” Jack grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. “I just couldn’t tell you any of this over the phone or by texting. Honestly, Lauren, I didn’t want to tell you at all and burden you with any of this information.” Jack sighs.

“Burden me? Not knowing why you didn’t show up was burdening me. I had no idea what happened. Have you ever showed up at the airport excited to see someone and to find out they didn’t make the trip? And then to listen to a voice mail with no real explanation? “I pull my hands back and let them rest in my lap for a second, then reach for my wine glass and take a long sip.

“No, I haven’t experienced that, and I’m truly sorry. Things with us were going so well. I just thought I could almost pause us in time and handle this situation.” Jack rolls his lips. “I know that wasn’t the right thing to do and I feel horrible for not filling you in about any of it.” Jack rubs his forehead. “Vintage Estates has been in my family for years and now…” Jack sighs.

“Now what?”

“Now…” Jack runs his hand through his hair and glances at my ceiling. “I don’t know, things aren’t looking good. Sherry somehow got some whack job of a lawyer to finagle some documents to put a mortgage on the property.”

“So she took all the money and then some?” I furrow my eyebrows. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This sounds like something from a Lifetime movie. Next thing I know, my head could be in the refrigerator. I shake my head…No, this is Jack’s issue not mine.

“Yes, Sherry took out a huge loan against the property, so along with all the bills she hasn’t been paying, she also put Vintage Estates in further debt.” Jack blows out through his lips. “I can’t imagine how Lewis would feel about this, they had been married for a couple of years. I thought he would have seen something? Or maybe she is in grief and did this because of that?”

I jerk my head back. “You can’t be serious? People don’t steal tons of money because of grief!” At least I wouldn’t think that would be the case.

“I don’t know, Lauren, none of this makes sense to me.” Jack grabs my hand. “Except you.”

I squint my eyes. “Except me?”

“Yes, you make sense to me. Despite everything falling to pieces, and Vintage Estates being in my family for years, the main concern of mine was not losing you. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t come sooner, too. Please don’t keep me in the dark again.” I stare at him. His piercing blue eyes are shining back me. Everything about those eyes makes me want to climb into his arms and be surrounded by his heart.

“I won’t…Lauren, I’ve missed you so much.” He pulls me into his lap and kisses me hard. Harder than he’s ever kissed me before. Like he’s searching for some sort of physical confirmation of my words and I want to give it to him. I meet each twirl and tug from him with a nip from my teeth or a swirl from my tongue. His hands are moving over my body. Grasping onto each one of my curves and cupping me softly and then harder. I’m falling, I can’t see where I’m headed. I’m dizzy. I pull back.

“Jack.”

Jack slides his hands up to my face and runs his finger over my lips. “Yes?”

“I—” I’m at a loss for words. I have no pies to tend to. My family is miles away from everything. No one can rescue me from this moment of intensity. I have no excuses other than me as to why I’m stopping him or us from going further.

“Lauren, are you okay? “Jack tips my chin up so our eyes meet. I’m melting. I glance down again. I need to regain my focus and have an answer to my internal question. I don’t want to fall and just let nature take its course. I want an outline or plan of some sort, an idea. I can’t just relax and go with this. It’s too much. I need more than just a physical bond. I need an understanding. I’m not even sure if it’s possible. But I owe it to myself to try. To at least speak up.

“Yes. I just...I mean, all of this is good, but I…where is it or we headed?” My lips purse, I’m most likely creating wrinkles at this very moment. But stress is supposed to do that and I am stressed. I don’t know what to think of what is happening. I want to be with Jack. I do. But I don’t want a fling or a weekend moment.

“Headed. This hand is headed for your back to pull you in closer and this hand is headed for your hair, because I love the way your silky curls feel and my lips, my lips are headed for your mouth.” He leans in and we kiss again. It’s soft at first and then the passion is stronger, he scoops me up in his arms and pulls me in tight, exploring my mouth with his tongue and my body with his firm searching hands.

My heart is racing. I’m tingling all over the place. I know my face is flushed. I need to take control of this situation.

“Jack.” I pull back again.

“Yes, Lauren.”

“Jack, seriously. I need to know what our plan is.” I pull back a little bit.

“Our plan? Like our life plan? Or our tonight plan?” Jack tugs a tendril from my hair.

I laugh. “Um…I guess life plan is a little far-reaching, but only tonight’s plan isn’t enough, so somewhere in the middle of those two.” I lock my eyes on him.

He grins at me. His smile is warm and honest. I can’t imagine not seeing that smile every day and I don’t want to. I don’t want him to ever leave. I want to be with him.

“Lauren, I’m not going anywhere if that’s your concern? Well, except back to Texas on Sunday. I have to.” He rubs my shoulder.

He runs his finger over the top of my lip. “Don’t pout. I’ll come back. I have to get things figured out at Vintage Estates.”

“Right, but what are we going to try? A long-distance something or other?” My eyes flicker at the idea.

“We could. Lauren, I’m enamored with you and I want to be with you. But I can’t tell you exactly how our life will play out. If you think that’s even a possibility then you’re fooling yourself.” He tugs on my skirt.

“I’m not saying you have to give me a blueprint of our plans for the future. But I want some sort of sense of where this is headed.”

“How about you close your eyes and let me lead the way?” Jack lifts me off the ground and his lips meet mine. My eyes are closed. But with him I don’t feel lost.

Chapter Three

Jack was a perfect gentleman and slept in my guest room, which I’m really happy to have finally put the finishing touches on over the summer. The room is furnished with a queen bed, a chestnut dresser and two nightstands, they are not from a matching set, but I think they look great. I set my alarm earlier than what I would have wanted to wake up to on a Saturday morning, but I wanted to be able to take a shower and get myself presentable, as Megan would say, before seeing Jack.

I swipe a few more strokes of my deep-black mascara on my lashes. My eyes are perfectly lined and my lip-gloss is the right shade of coral. I grab my caramel Steve Madden knee-high boots and slide into them. I hope Jack is wearing jeans, it’s a Saturday and I’m not sure what he has in store, but I’m in a jeans and navy sweater mood. I’m ready to take on the day and Jack. The guest room is on the third floor of my town house and my bedroom is on the same floor as the kitchen and living room. I slowly open the door. I’m hopeful Jack isn’t up yet.

I tiptoe out into the living room and cross my way into the kitchen, no sign of Jack. My shoulders relax. Crap, I really have nothing to prepare for breakfast. Well, it’s not like I had planned on overnight company. I go to the cupboard and pop it open. Today is definitely calling out some Columbian Supremo. I grab the little white saucer and toss it into my Keurig. From the right side of the cupboard I take out the coffee mug Brianna gave me a couple of years ago, it has an illustration of Frosty the Snowman and reads “Frosty the Snowman is a Big Flake”.

It would make more sense for me to have this mug at my parents’ house, as I have to use powder creamery there and the flakes could be at one. I smile as I take the cup from underneath the Keurig and turn around. Jack is standing next to the far counter with a big grin on. He hasn’t even had any coffee.

“Hey there.” Jack strides towards me and kisses me softly on my lips.

I pull back. “Hey yourself.” I trek towards the refrigerator and pull out the pink and white carton of half and half. “Would you like some coffee?” I hold up the Frosty mug.

“Just half a cup, I’d like to take you out to breakfast.”

I nod my head. Does he know I have no breakfast food?

I’m a little insulted, but in reality the only thing I can offer for breakfast is popcorn or a few slices of cheddar cheese. Maybe I should stock more food?

“Are you okay with that?” Jack tugs on the hem of my sweater.

I blink my eyes a few times. “Of course! Yes, that sounds nice.” Nice? Yuck…nice is such a bland adjective. I wish I could retract it and offer up something better.

“I looked up a few places in the area, and I found one, you might have already been there.” Jack runs his hand through his hair. “Anyways, I’d like to take you.”

“I like surprises.” I gaze up at him. He could be a model from a Dolce & Gabanna ad, he’s fresh-shaven, the scent of sandalwood and mint are so close to my nose, I want to stand on my tippy-toes and inhale.

“Then we make a great couple, because I like giving them.” Jack winks at me.

I melt. He used the word “couple” and a wink. Keep it together, Lauren, this is all very new.

I offer the Frosty mug to him. “Cream or sugar?”

“Sugar.” Jack holds onto my hand with the mug and reaches his other arm around my head and pulls me into a deep kiss. I’m glad brushing my teeth immediately upon awaking is a part of my daily routine. Our tongues swirl together like a slow erupting volcano, but with each turn further lava flows over the side. I’m falling deeper and deeper.

I open my eyes. I have to be smart about things. I don’t want to get lost in moment, I’m a realist. I want to be positive and hope for the best, but I don’t have a great track record. My last long-distance relationship was an uber-fail and a waste of time. I can’t let this happen again. I pull back from Jack and release the Frosty mug. I slide over to the cupboard and take down my second favorite Christmas mug, it’s one my mom got me: it’s an illustration of Santa except he’s wearing a cowboy hat and sitting in his red sleigh and in the place of reindeers are armadillos and the word bubble reads “Ho Ho Ho Y’all”.

I push it underneath the Keurig drip and select another Columbian Supremo from my basket. It drops into the machine with ease and I press the button. I eye Jack, he’s reading something on his phone.

“Everything okay?” His eyebrows are furrowed, which indicates to me the answer would be no.

“Yeah, I need to call my Aunt Minnie, she’s left me several messages.” Jack moves out of the kitchen. I raise my eyebrows. He had mentioned his Aunt Minnie over Thanksgiving, but only the fact of her having like five cats or something. I glance at my Texas cup, it’s filled. Finally. I pick up the pink and white carton and drop a few swirls into the mug. I open up the drawer underneath my Keurig and find a small spoon. I stir my coffee and toss the spoon into the sink.

I take a sip from my mug and pace in the kitchen. I don’t want to interrupt Jack’s conversation. I sigh, I wish I had my phone on me. I left it on my nightstand. I saunter over to my window and peek out.

I have a perfect view of the garbage bins. It’s not like I enjoy checking out the trash, but I do like to see if there are any furniture items I might want to snag before Bob Dickerson gets his wheelin’ and dealin’ hands on them. I lift up one of the slats of my blinds. The bin area is empty. I shut it and turn around.

“Ready for breakfast?” Jack is braced in the doorway. I almost want to giggle. He reminds me of a football player about to ask me on a date. Well, I guess technically he has asked me on a date, but he’s not a football player. Did Jack play sports in school?

“Yes, let me grab my purse.” I slide past him and stride into my room to grab my purse and phone. There is so much I don’t know about Jack. Maybe I should have him fill out a questionnaire. I laugh. How awkward that would be? Oh hey, Jack, would you mind filling out a few questions about your background? I’m feeling uneasy about where this is going and my heart…so if you wouldn’t mind…then pass him a stack of papers. Ha!

I stroll back into the living room. Jack is on the phone again. “Yes, Aunt Minnie, I’ll call you with an update soon…I promise. All right, love you too.” He swivels. Jack’s eyebrows raise.

“Ready?” I raise my own eyebrows in return.

“Yes, I’m starving.” Jack opens the door and I follow him. Jack is waiting at the landing for me. I smile. He offers me his hand and I take it. It’s firm and warm. We proceed down the stairs and make it to my car. I cup the door handle.

“Let’s take my car.” Jack tugs me away from my car.

“Okay, let me grab my garage remote.” I open the car door and take the remote control from my visor clip. I hit it once and the clatter of the garage door opening resounds through the garage. I follow Jack as we go to his car. It’s parked on the street in front of my town house. I remember it from last night when he was following me home, but even if I hadn’t seen it, I would know it’s his car, it’s a white egg-shaped car. It seems as if most standard rental cars are white egg-shaped vehicles.

Jack clicks the remote and opens the passenger door for me, waiting until I am fully adjusted in the chair before he closes it. He slides into the seat next to me and starts the engine. There are several great brunch options within a five-mile radius of my house.

“How did you sleep?” I know this is a dull question, but I feel like it’s my duty as a host to ask.

Jack eyes me and nods. “Better than I have in weeks.”

I laugh. “Really?” I squint my eyes. I did go for the slightly upgraded mattress, is this the cause of Jack’s peaceful rest?

Jack rubs his thumb and finger over his jaw. “Yes, really. Lauren, you have a very comfortable guest bed. I might have to write you a review on Airbnb.”

I roll my eyes then bob my head back and forth. “Alright, well that’s good to hear. Everyone can use a little extra cash over the holidays.” I wish I could take back the last sentence. I hope he doesn’t think I’m taking a shot at him about Vintage Estates.

“True. But now that I think about it, I wouldn’t want Airbnb to be your means of extra earning potential.” Jack switches his turn signal and I notice we are headed south on Highway 83. My curiosity is further piqued as to which restaurant location he will choose. We are getting closer to the Waterfront cafes. If the windows were open, I’m sure we would get a waft of the ocean.

Jack is driving down the streets like a local, if I didn’t know better I would have assumed he grew up here. Several turns and the car begins to slow down to a searching pace. Jack is on the hunt for street-side parking. I smirk at this. Parking on the street within steps of the harbor is a hit or miss on most days but a Saturday in December? The car jolts to a halt stop. Unbelievable. A person is backing out of a spot. And right in front of The Platters. Hmm…is this the place he had in mind? Platters is one of Brianna’s and my favorite brunch spots, especially when we are nursing hangovers. They have a Hang Me Over My Yammies Pancakes and Patties breakfast to cure any headache and weak stomach. I don’t know what they put in this dish, but it works. Every time. Jack steers the car into the too-small-for-me-to-park space with two adjustments. Impressive.

“Come on, my little wild hare, a feast awaits us.” Jack’s eyes flash a wicked hunger.

When I’m hungry I get like a sad Panda until I get some form of nourishment and my blood sugars start rising. I raise my eyebrows at him. “Okay, Hawk-eye.” I grab the car handle and step out onto the street. Brr. It is cold, even with my navy pea coat and white scarf. I’m freezing. Jack rushes around to my side of the car and wraps an arm over my shoulder.

“I’m okay with the idea of Hawk-Eye…but I never really bonded with his character.” He is guiding us directly towards the entrance of The Platters. My stomach gurgles. The sounds of cars are loud enough to ensure Jack did not hear it.

“Well I haven’t bonded with the idea of a wild hare…so I guess we are even?” I air quote the operative word.

Jack laughs. “But, Lauren, you are my wild hare.” He leans down and kisses my head. Little tingles flow down my body like sand in an hourglass filling up the lower half and causing an eruption of emotion.

I’m blaring ‘Fever’ in my internal sound system and flames are igniting everywhere, but Jack is steering us in through the doors. The smiling hostess feasts her eyes on Jack and I furrow my brows. Um hello, he’s obviously with a date.

“Hi there, how many in your party?” She sticks the top of ballpoint pen in between her puckered lips.

“Two, please.” Jack squeezes my hand.

“Sure thing, right this way.” She motions come hither to us. We follow behind her as she navigates a straight path to the window overlooking the harbor. I’ll never get tired of seeing this. There are a few sailboats in the water and a brave kayaker. He appears to have on a full wetsuit, but still it’s got to be at least forty degrees outside and next to the water it’s always chillier. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to fall in.

I slide into my chair and pick up the menu in front of me. I’m starving.

“Two coffees, please.” Jack says to the hostess.

“Anything for you, honey, I’ll send your waitress right over.” She stands in front of our table for a second too long.

I roll my eyes at my menu.

“What’s on your mind?” Jack cocks his head to the right.

“Nothing but food.” Obviously I’m not going to mention Miss. Flirty-pants, this would only make me seem insecure, which I am not.

“Me too. I read online they have creamy lemon ricotta pancakes.” Jack wiggles his eyebrows at me.

I laugh and nod my head. “Sounds tasty, I think I’m going to go with my favorite Hang Me Over My Yammies and Patties.”

“Do you have a hangover?” Jack’s eyebrows furrow.

“No, do you?” I raise one eyebrow at him and purse my lips.

“A couple of glasses of wine is not enough to give me one.” Jack reaches for my hand. “I do have a different type of hangover though.”

The sides of my mouth pull up. “Oh really, what’s that?’

“A Lauren hangover.” His eyes are flickering at me.

“Hmm…Well, a hangover is usually a bad thing.”

“It might be, but I don’t want a cure.” Jack pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.

“Two coffees?” A curly redhead is holding two steaming cups in front of us.

“Yes, please.” Rescued by coffee, that was a close one. “Could I have some cream, please?”

“Sure, what can I get you for breakfast?” She grabs out a pen and takes down our order and trots away towards the back of the restaurant.

“So what’s a typical day like here for you?” Jack pries into my eyes.

“A typical Saturday?” I furrow my eyes. Surely Jack doesn’t want to hear about my weekend errands and blue moon excursions with Brianna.

“Any day, I want to know more about you and your world.” Jack taps me underneath the table with his foot. I’m not sure if this is an attempt at footsies, an accident, or cue for me to spill my boring daily life with him.

“Oh, well on Friday I was offered a huge promotion at work.” My shoulders rise and fall, thinking about the offer makes me a bit nervous but extremely proud. This is the biggest promotion I have ever received.

“Wow, Lauren, congratulations! That’s great news. What does the new promotion entail?” Jack is grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, I’m going to have my own team to manage and I get to select them myself, which is pretty cool.”

The waitress returns with my cream and places it down next to me without a word, she must be one of those hands-off servers. “Thank you.” I manage to say as her back is turned to me. Oh well, I tried to be polite.

“That’s fantastic. Do you have candidates lined up?” Jack takes a sip of his coffee.

“I’ve got my eyes on a few people, but I don’t have to choose anyone until January.” I drizzle a few drops of cream into my cup and stir it with the silver spoon.

Jack nods his head. “I’ve got my eyes on some new candidates as well.”

“For the retirement home?” I squint my eyes.

“No, it’s a special project I’m trying to get off the ground.” Jack raises his cup to me.

“With your architecture firm?” Where is Jack going with this?

“No, it’s more of a personal project, not exactly job related.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He glances at the face. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this. If the food arrives, please go ahead and begin.” He stands up and walks towards the exit. The door opens, but I’m sure they aren’t seating anyone on the deck due to the temperature.

I pull out my own phone from my purse and tap on the display. As I figured, I’ve got several text messages. My phone was on vibrate since last night. I don’t like to sleep with the ringer on in case anyone decides to reach me in the wee hours of Saturday morning.

The first text message is from Brianna: So…deets. Give me the scoop.

Ten minutes after that is a second message: Seriously, are you still in bed?

Five minutes later, a third message: Oh, I see…this is how you’re going to play this? Not cool. Take a mini-make-out break and run to the bathroom and call me.

I text back: We are at breakfast, I’ll call you later.

I text once more: Remember, patience is a virtue.

Brianna texts back: So is decency, you shouldn’t make me wait. ;)

I roll my eyes. As if Brianna would be dialing up my number while hanging out with Owen. The final message is from Megan.

“Did you get your tickets yet?”

Crap. I need to get them. I pull up my airfare app and search through the fares. My eyes can’t bulge out any further. The prices have literally doubled since the last time I checked. Arghh. I shake my head. I shouldn’t have put this off, what a mistake. I scan all of the airports near me in Baltimore and Austin to see if I can come up with some crazy combo flight to save a few hundred dollars. All the prices are the same. Well, that’s fabulous. I rummage through my purse and grab my faded leather wallet and take out my credit card. Gulp. Good thing I’m getting a promotion. I shut down the app after sending an email confirmation to myself.

I type back to Megan: Yes, I fly in on the nineteenth. See you at the airport?

My phone shakes in my hand. Megan has filled up the text box with every possible happy face emoticon, along with a wine glass, party hat with streamers, Santa, Frosty, and a Christmas tree.

I grin as I type back with the plane emoticon and the two ballerina girls, this is the emoticon we use to represent ourselves. She immediately responds with a winking emoticon blowing a heart smooch.

The waitress returns to the table with two steaming dishes in her hands. “All right, please be careful, these plates are hot.” She sets them down and walks away. I giggle to myself, thinking about the hot plates skit on SNL. Jack is pacing on the deck and waving his hand around back and forth. I know he said to go ahead and eat and I’m starving but I think it would be rude to begin without him. I pick up my coffee and take a sip.

Who could he be talking to on a Saturday morning so furiously? I hope it’s not more bad news with Vintage Estates. He turns around and we make eye contact. I raise my eyebrows at him. He motions with his index finger in the air. Surely it won’t be longer than one more moment, I don’t think my stomach will make it. The cream in the coffee is barely enough to keep me from passing out. I glance back at the window and Jack is making his way towards me. I pat my tummy. Almost.

“Don’t you just love it when you come back to the table and find your food waiting for you?” Jack winks at me.

“I think you mean coming back from the bathroom, except in your case it would be the deck.” I raise my eyebrow to him. I can quote from Pulp Fiction any day of the week.

“Yes, sorry about that.” Jack rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Not more bad news?” I pick up my fork. I can’t wait any longer and these yammies are screaming my name and my stomach is quoting from Austin Powers.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Jack scoops up a bite of his pancakes and take a bite.

I’m on my fourth mouthful. I should slow down, I don’t want him to think I’m a pig. I place my fork down on my plate and pick up my coffee which is almost gone.

“Remember how I said Sherry had taken out a loan against Vintage Estates?” Jack takes another bite of his fluffy pancakes.

I nod my head.

“Well, apparently the loan Sherry signed for has a balloon payment due by the 28th of this month.” He grabs his coffee and takes a sip. He eyes the waitress and motions for her to come to our table.

“The food is great, but could we please have another round of coffee?” He points at our cups.

“Sure thing.”

“Okay, so you have to pay a large amount on the 28th or what?”

“Or, the bank owns Vintage Estates.”

My eyes practically drop on the floor. They are hurting from straining. “Are you serious?” I immediately wish I hadn’t said this as I know this is serious and Jack wouldn’t make this up.

Jack nods and takes another bite of his pancakes. The waitress returns with a pitcher of coffee and fills up our cups. We both thank her.

“What are you going to do? Do you have to leave?” My shoulders tense up.

“No, I’ll leave tomorrow as planned. I have a few options. I’ll meet with the bank and my lawyer on Monday. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I just want to enjoy my time with you.” Jack reaches for my hand and brushes his thumb over it.

“Okay, so other than that, how have things been?” I smile.

“Things are really good right now. I’m sitting across the table from a gorgeous woman and I’m eating the best pancakes I’ve ever had.” Jack squeezes my hand.

I inspect my almost empty plate and then beam back at Jack. “You’re quite the looker yourself, the hostess practically slipped in her drool.” I roll my eyes.

Jack laughs and motions for the server.

“More coffee?” She holds up a pitcher.

“Not for me, but the check please.”

She pats her apron and pulls out a white lined card. Jack reaches for his wallet and gives her his credit card.

“I’ll be right back.” She turns and walks away.

“Are you up for an adventure?” Jack flashes a grin at me.

“An adventure?” I crinkle my eyebrows and inspect my feet. I am wearing my boots and not heels. “Yes, I have the proper footwear.”

“Lauren, Lauren, Lauren, I told you don’t need proper footwear just a good partner.”

The waitress returns with a small black folder and hands it to Jack. He opens it up and signs his name.

“We’re not going dancing, are we?”

“Maybe, I’m always up for dancing.” Jack winks at me and stands up. He takes my hand and we wander out of the restaurant.

Chapter Four

“Are you ready?” Jack’s eyes flicker like a child on Christmas morning. I inspect our location, he refused to tell me where we were headed. The sign in front of the parking lot reads “Calandrino Christmas Tree Farm”.

“I’m ready, but for what?” I wrinkle my eyebrows at him.

“For our adventure in finding you a Christmas tree, I noticed your house was missing one.” Jack takes the key out of the ignition.

“You want to chop down a tree for my house?” I know I must sound like a dunce, but I’m trying to figure out exactly what Jack is wanting to do.

“Bingo! Smart and pretty, you’re the whole package, Lauren.” He taps my nose.

I stick my tongue out at him. He leans in and pulls my chin up and our lips meet. He kisses me softly and then hops out of the car. I grab my purse from the floor and Jack is already at my door. He opens it and I step out. The gravel crunches underneath my boot.

In front of us is a large wooden building with a white sign attached above the doorway with the farm’s name. There are several green and blue colored tractors and wagons lined up outside of the store. Jack leads us to the painted red door and opens it.

Inside the building is a winter wonderland of activity. There is a train circling on a shelf running along the tops of the walls, large candy canes hang from the ceiling, at least twenty different decorated Christmas trees are scattered throughout the place. In the back of the store is what appears to be a cookie shop with a sign reading “Decorate Your Own Cookie”, next to the cookie station is a hot cocoa motion machine. I blink my eyes several times, this place is like stimulation overload.

I can’t even imagine my niece and nephew Winter and River being in here, they would probably faint out of pure excitement.

Jack navigates our way through all of the displays and finds the register being operated by a teenager dressed as an elf. Behind him is a sign listing the types of trees and prices along with tree transportation options.

“Hi there, I’d like to rent a wagon.” He glances back at me and cocks his head. “Scratch that, let’s get a tractor.” Jack digs in his pocket and takes out his wallet.

“Do you want to be in a group or your own?” The elf asks.

“Our own.” Jack does not hesitate on this answer. He hands his card to the elf. I feel like maybe I should offer to pay since it’s a tree for my house, but this isn’t my idea so I stand like I’m frozen on ice.

The elf gives Jack his card back and a key chain. “You’ve got tractor number three.”

“Great, thanks.” Jack takes my hand. “How about some hot cocoa for our adventure?”

“Ooh yeah, count me in.”

Jack grins and we weave our way to the cocoa station. He selects two to-go cups and fills them up. “I don’t think we can pass up decorating our own cookies.” Jack cocks his head in the direction of the cookie station.

I laugh. “You’re probably right.” I follow him as we eye the different cookie shapes. There are sleighs, Santas, elves, reindeers, candy canes, and Christmas tree cookies. I grab a Santa and Jack grabs an elf. We sit down at a decorating table. It’s over flowing with an assortment of sprinkles and glitter, and icings in every color imaginable.

I select the red, white, blue, and black icing and begin to color in my Santa. I take a peek at Jack’s elf and notice he is using extra icing to create long brown hair and the eyes are green. Is Jack trying to make an elf version of me? I crinkle my eyebrows. Maybe I should make Santa into Jack? No, I don’t want him to think anything about the tubbiness of Santa’s belly and Jack looks nothing like Santa as a cookie or in pictures. I pick up my blue icing and squirt a drop on his hand.

Jack inspects the icing and raises his eyebrow in my direction. He makes the elf’s shirt a deep V-neck and pens in a cleavage line.

“That’s interesting, I’ve never seen such a voluptuous elf before.” I purse my lips to the side.

“Hmm…this is the way I’ve always imagined elves to look like.” Jack winks at me.

I roll my eyes and finish Santa’s white beard. Next to the trays of icing are plastic cookie holders. I put my Santa cookie in one and tap my fingers on the table.

“Good things come to those who wait.” Jack squirts the last of the green icing onto the boots he has created for his sexy elf. He lifts the cookie off the table and offers it to me to inspect.

“Really…nice.” I nod.

“I bet it tastes even better than it looks.” Jack says as he places the cookie in the plastic holder.

I chortle. “I don’t think it would take much.”

“You don’t like my sexy elf?” Jack jerks his head back in fake shock.

“No, Jack it’s great…really.” I laugh. “Come on, let’s go look at trees.”

Jack stands and we file out of the store with our cookies and cocoa in hand. The cold air immediately hits my face as we exit. I shiver. I’m glad I’ve got my navy wool pea coat on, but it’s got to be low forties, maybe even dropping into the thirties. Jack pulls me in close to him as we search for tractor number three. At the end of the row of tractors we find it. A hunter green tractor with a flatbed trailer attached to it.

“Hop in my lady.” Jack waves his hand in front of the vehicle.

“How funny, our first tractor ride together and it’s not in Texas.” I slide across the vinyl seat and put my hot cocoa in the cup holder. “Fancy.”

“Our first of many, I hope.” Jack guns the engine and we both bounce in the air.

“Many tractor rides? Are you planning on living on a farm?” I squint my eyes.

Jack moves his head up and down. “I could see myself living on a Christmas tree farm like this.” His baby blues sparkle at me.

“I didn’t realize you were such a Christmas guy.” I brush his arm. We are slowly moving farther away from the store and getting deeper into the forest. There are other people in tractors, group tractors, and some walkers with wagons.

“Yeah, my mom always made a big deal about traditions around Christmas and one of them was that our family would trek out to a tree farm and cut down our own tree.” He rolls his lips.

“That’s really sweet. My mom is big into Christmas too, well, she is big into all holidays.” The sides of my mouth pick up.

“I remember at Thanksgiving there were a lot of interesting decorations, what was it, a DJ turkey on the doorstep?” Jack cocks his head to the right at me.

I laugh. “Yes, it was. Wait till you see the Christmas décor.”

“I’m waiting with bated breath.” Jack gazes at me.

I laugh. “You won’t have to wait long, Christmas is only two weeks away.”

“When do you fly in?” Jack grazes his chin with his thumb and index finger.

“I’m not, I’ve decided to hire a bunch of different Uber drivers.”

“Lauren, I thought I was your only Uber driver?”

“Exclusivity in Uber transportation is not something to take lightly.” I turn my head and stare at his piercing blue eyes.

“Agreed, can I offer you a sexy elf cookie in exchange for all of your Uber transportation needs?” Jack reaches down and takes the cookie package from the floor.

I laugh. “I’m not really into sexy elf cookies, maybe you have something else to offer?”

Jack stops the tractor in front of a sign with several arrows pointing out the direction of the various trees on the farm. “How about my expert tree-hunting skills. Are you a Spruce, Noble, Fraser, or Douglas Fir kind of gal?”

I raise my eyebrows. I have no clue what type of tree to get. I usually buy whichever looks like it will fit on my car without too much effort.

“If you’re an expert than you must know the perfect tree for me.” There, throw it back on him without admitting my ignorance to the various types of tree.

“Fair enough.” He starts the engine back up and takes a left, we are either going towards the Fraser or Douglas Firs. We pass through what seems like endless rows of mint colored spikey trees, the grass is cut short. We haven’t really had any snow yet this year, so it hasn’t changed to pale yellow.

After what seems like an eternity of grass and trees, Jack stops the tractor. “I think we’ll find the perfect tree for you in this row.” Jack squints his eyes at the vast forest as he points down a path.

I take the final sip of my hot cocoa and climb out of the tractor. “Is your tree-dar beeping wild?” I laugh.

“Yes, I have tree vision and I know it’s here, I can feel it.” He grabs my hand and laces our fingers. Even through my leather gloves his warm hands are sending tingles up my veins. From the back of the tractor Jack takes out a hand saw and some rope.

“What kind of tree is it?” I peek up at him.

“A Douglas Fir.” He raises his eyebrow and the sides of his mouth pull up at the corners.

I nod my head. “Why not a Fraser?”

“The Douglas goes better with your evergreen eyes and the needles are softer, like your skin.” Jack treks us down the empty path as if he is telling me about the weather. I’m a puddle trying to scoop myself up off the ground. Pull it together, Lauren.

“I’ve never been compared to a tree before, I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not.” I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Why not a tree, would you prefer I compared you to a summer’s day?” Jack stops and examines my face. “A Douglas Fir is green and soft, with an intense fragrance, it’s strong and beautiful. Just like you.” Jack grazes my nose with his index finger.

I sneeze. “All right, well, we better get a move on or rough winds are going to shake the needles off this tree and she is going to freeze.”

“Are you cold?” Jack inspects my coat. It’s my casual wool pea coat. It has just the right amount of warmth, I’ve never gotten into the idea of wearing a puffed parka jacket, I don’t want to look like a polar bear.

“A little, it’s probably like thirty-something degrees out here, and in the forest I’m sure it’s colder.”

Jack unzips his brown coat, drapes it over my shoulders and pulls me into a warm embrace. I’m heated all over as if I’ve walked into a sauna, the sounds of wood crackling are popping all around me.

“Jack, I appreciate the offer, but then you would be without a coat?” I rub my hands over his biceps. They are hard.

“I don’t need it. I’m about to get a major workout sawing down that tree.” Jack points to a tree in the distance. I know it’s not possible but it is almost like a little sparkle is glowing around the tree Jack is motioning to.

I follow him and he gets down on the ground and studies the trunk of the tree. He stands back up. “This is the one.” He moves his head back and forth. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” I size it up as I circle it in its entirety. It’s a gorgeous deep green with full branches and shaped like a cone. I inhale the aromatic scent is amazing. I make my way back to where Jack is standing and he gathers me into his arms.

“Exactly.” He kisses me. Our tongues dance a tango of happiness. He releases me and picks up his hand saw. “All right, now I just need you to hold onto the top of the back of the tree, while I saw and then I will hop up to grab it when it’s ready.”

“Yes, sir.” I motion a salute.

Jack grins and grabs a pair of gloves from his back pocket. He puts his shoulder to the ground and begins sawing back and forth. I hum the Jeopardy final question tune out loud. I’m sure Jack appreciates this.

“You realize this is going to take about ten minutes to cut down?” Jack peeks his head around the back of the tree and peers up at me.

“Is my humming bothering you?” I jerk back my head in faux surprise.

“No, Lauren, it’s really helpful, I was just thinking that maybe since we are cutting down a Christmas tree you could hum a Christmas song? You know to kind of go with the theme?” He winks at me and returns to sawing.

I begin humming ‘Oh Christmas Tree’, could any song be more on point? Ha!

Jack starts to sing the lyrics.

I giggle. I can’t believe we are actually singing/humming ‘Oh Christmas tree’ while cutting down this tree.

“Why’d you stop?” Jack asks.

“Oh, I didn’t want to break your rhythm with the saw.”

“Was it my singing?” Jack hops up and grabs the tree. “You can let go.”

I sing ‘Let it Go’ back to him.

“Now you’re talking, I haven’t heard that song in at least a couple of days.” Jack slowly lays the tree down on its side and walks to the trunk to inspect his cut.

“Not bad.” He nods his head.

I bend down and wipe my fingers over the bottom of the tree and nod my head. “Well, if the Uber thing doesn’t work out maybe you can try being a lumberjack.” I laugh.

Jack scowls at me but it’s not real, it’s so obvious he is trying to withhold a laugh as well. He stalks towards me and I take off running. “Oh, now you want to play hide-and-seek?” Jack calls out at me. I laugh and then quickly silence myself. I’m a hide-and-seek pro, Megan and Luke and I use to run the neighborhood and always win. Our friends would try and break us up but we always said no, family sticks together.

I slide through the trees. I’m at least five rows over from our tree and now, I’m on the hunt for the perfect waiting spot. The key to playing hide-and-seek is waiting it out until the hunter has passed and then changing your location. I crouch down and try to merge with one of the trees as I listen for any sounds. I’m sure I will hear the crunch of the grass or Jack might even call out again. That’s a rookie mistake, but since I’ve never played with him, I’m not sure what his method is. I peek my head around the left side of the tree and scan the area. Nothing but green. I peer to the right and inspect the rows of trees. Again, nothing.

“Du bist nicht frei.” Jack wraps his arms around me.

“What?” I glance back at him. He pulls me to my feet and leans into my ear.

“Du bist nicht frei.” Jack breathes. “I thought you had played hide-and-seek before?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Sie sprechen Deutch?” Jack brushes his thumb over my chin.

“No, pero hablo español.” I laugh.

“Ah, my little Texas señorita wants to speak in Spanish now?” He cocks his head to the right.

I shake my head. “God no, I have the worst pronunciation ever, I used to be made fun of in class when we had to do our oral presentations.” I flitter my eyes. “It was the worst.”

“That’s too bad, I wouldn’t mind practicing my Spanish with you.” Jack leans down and kisses my head.

“I like to maintain a small vocabulary of Spanish words: margarita, tequila, and salsa.” I laugh.

Jack places his hand on my waist, grabs my hand and spins me around. I try not to trip over my own feet as he twirls me again. “Salsa, you want to work your hips?”

I reach in and grab onto his arms. I can’t spin for a third time. “No, just my lips.” I pucker them and Jack’s meet mine. He kisses me and I’m warmed again. The sun is setting in the distance and a slight wind runs through my hair.

I pull back from his embrace. “We should really get back, it’s getting dark and I don’t want to be out here with the wild animals.”

Jack laughs and there is a glimmer in his eyes. I know this look: it’s one of warning. He is going all in and I’m not sure if I’m there.

We trek back to our tree hand in hand. Jack picks up the rope and wraps it up around the branches. “All right, I’ll just drag it to the tractor and then we’re off.”

I pace alongside of him. At the tractor Jack lifts the tree into the bed in one swift movement.

I climb into my side of the tractor and Jack turns the key in the ignition. It makes a patter and a pop. My eyes bulge out of my head. We are deep in the forest. It is at least thirty something degrees and I’m already freezing, I can’t imagine being stuck out here. I have Jack’s jacket on and I’m still cold.

Jack raises his index finger to me and cocks his head to the right. He taps on the steering wheel once and turns the key again. The engine roars.

“Was that a Fonzie move?” I laugh.

“No, that was all me.” Jack wiggles his eyebrows at me.

I can’t help but roll my eyes at him and give him a shove on his arm. He flashes me a grin and puts the pedal to the metal and we are rolling through the forest at a whopping ten miles per hour. Our tractor is pushing past rows and rows of evergreen spiked towers as he curves, we are finally back on the main dirt road.

“Lauren, can I ask you something?” Jack slants his eyes in my direction.

“Um, sure.” I answer, though usually when someone prefaces a question with a question it’s not good

“Do you have any Christmas tree decorations?” Jack raises an eyebrow at me.

I laugh. “Yes, I do, they’re up in my attic.”

“Spooky.” Jack parks the tractor next to the store. I grab my Santa cookie and hesitate on picking up his sexy elf. “Come on, you’re not going to leave Bambi on the seat, are you?” Jack grimaces at me.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t even see her.” I pick up the elf cookie and hand it to him.

“Lauren, come on, Bambi is hard to miss.” Jack laughs and opens the door to go in the store.

“Yes, she does have some interesting features. I’m going to run to the ladies real quick.” I stride towards the back of the store where I see a Mister and Mrs. Claus signs indicating the restrooms. There is no way I can make it back to my place with all of the hot cocoa and coffee from earlier in me.

I push the door of the ladies open and wander back out into the store. All of the décor causes me to blink my eyes several times. Jack is nowhere to be found. I sweep the whole store before I exit.

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