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Jensen hands me a shot. “To finding the perfect tree for Quinn,” he toasts.
They all hold up their glasses to me, and we clink. Tossing back the whiskey, my throat immediately burns, and a strong blush settles on my face.
And I smile with gratitude as Damien pours us another round.
* * *
Soaring on the snowmobile,I tightly squeeze my arms around Micah’s waist. We somehow gain even more momentum. Damien races past us, heading straight for a hill. An unexpected rush of adrenaline consumes me as I watch him take flight, hurdling through the cold, winter air.
He lifts himself into a standing position, turning back to look our way, waving for us to follow behind him. We make our way toward the edge of the woods. Slowing our speed, my gaze scans the beautiful Christmas trees of all different sizes.
Jensen follows closely behind, towing a sled that carries a chainsaw. In my family, we’ve always had a real tree for Christmas; however, this is the first time I’ve ever had the chance to choose one from the wild.
Damien slows, riding parallel to us. “Just say when,” he instructs.
Smiling with excitement behind my helmet and face shield, I nod.
Suddenly, it begins to snow, and a shiver travels down my spine. Embracing the wintry wind, I hug Micah tight, waiting to catch the first glimpse of the perfect tree. Gliding over the fresh blanket of snow over the icy ground, the space around us falls silent.
We come to a stop, and I watch as Damien removes his helmet, retrieving a flask of whiskey from the inside of his coat.
“What about this one?” Jensen asks, pointing toward the tallest tree in sight.
“That’s impossible,” I say, holding back a laugh.
“Nothing’s impossible,” he says.
“We could make it work,” Damien speaks up, tossing back the liquor before tossing the flask to Jensen.
“I found it!” I exclaim, removing my helmet and climbing off the seat. Shuffling my boots through the snow, I head toward the perfect tree. “This is it. This is the one.”
Jensen lets out a dry laugh. “Well, this is unexpected.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, turning to face them. They burst into laughter. “What’s so funny?”
Damien dismounts his snowmobile, shaking his head.
“It’s perfect,” I argue.
“Look at the fucking branches,” Jensen retorts.
“So, what?” I defensively ask. “It’s perfect just the way it is. Don’t make fun of it.”
Micah laughs.
Hard.
“Not you, too, Micah,” I snarl, joining in on the laughter with them. “Whatever. You said I get to choose which one I want, and I want this one.”
“The princess shall have what the princess wants,” Damien says, grabbing the chainsaw from the sled. “Don’t be a brat.”
“Shut up,” I say under my breath.
Without warning, Damien grabs my jaw, tracing his gloved thumb over my lips. “What was that?” he asks, staring at me with piercing blue eyes, leaving my knees weak.
“You’re the best,” I playfully murmur, lustfully gazing up at him. “Daddy.”
“Yeah.” He crookedly grins, leaning into me. “That’s what I thought.”
