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“Is this a Christmas tree farm?” she voices in disbelief.
“It is, Miss Zara.” Colson jumps up and down, laughing the whole time.
Her eyes roam around as she puts her hands to her mouth. “I’ve heard of this,” she says in wonderment, “but I’ve never actually been.”
“Do you like Christmas, Miss Zara?” Colson asks her as we walk into the barn that has been converted into a little restaurant area and gift shop.
“It’s my favorite holiday,” she tells him. “I love it.” I put my arm around her, and she looks up at me, and it takes everything in me not to lean down and kiss her lips. “I am so excited.” She looks around. “What do we do?” she asks like a kid in a candy store. “Where do we go?”
“First, we get hot chocolate,” Colson tells her, “then we get to walk outside and pick a tree.” He points at the side door that leads up to the rows and rows of different trees. “Then Dad takes it back to his house, and we decorate it.” He leans in to her. “He swears sometimes about the needles being everywhere,” he whispers, making Zara laugh.
“I’m sure he does,” she replies as we walk to the counter, and I order us three hot chocolates. I hand her the first one and then hold one out for Colson and then take my own.
“I’m too excited to drink,” she prattles as she follows Colson, with me a step behind her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything prettier,” she states as Colson leads her down the path toward the trees. “There are just so many trees.” She looks around. “How do you pick?”
“You’ll know when you see it, Miss Zara,” Colson assures her. “Some are too skinny”—he points at a couple of trees—“you have to make sure that it looks full.” He points at the short full ones. “But not too short.”
“Got it.” Zara goes with him as they walk side by side, pointing out different trees. It takes them over an hour to find the one. They hem and haw over three of them and narrow it down. The whole time, I just watch the two of them becoming friends. They laugh together at certain things, and Zara goes out of her way to always ask his opinion.
“Okay, Dad,” Colson announces, “it’s this one, right, Miss Zara?” He points, then looks over at Zara for her approval, who just nods and claps her hands together. “Yup, this one.”
“What happens now?” she asks Colson. “Do we carry it to the car?”
“No, Dad gets a wagon, and when we get home, we carry it in.” He leans in. “Dad usually ends up carrying it in, but this year, I got stronger, so I’m going to help.”
“I can help too,” she tells him. “I may not be as strong as you, but I work out.”
I try not to laugh at her as I grab a wagon nearby and pluck the tree out of the hole. It takes forty minutes to get it back to the truck and loaded. I take off my gloves, tossing them on the middle console, before starting the truck and making my way back home. “You good with coming to decorate?” I ask her when we are almost home.
“She has to come and decorate,” Colson says from the back. “It’s tradition. Whoever picks the tree decorates it.”
“Well,” she agrees as I look over at her, “I can’t break tradition.”
“Do you have any traditions, Miss Zara?” Colson asks her.
“I do.” She looks over at him. “One, I always put up my tree the day after Thanksgiving. As soon as I get home from Thanksgiving dinner, I start taking out my boxes.”
“That’s so soon.” His eyes are big.
“Yes, but then I get to enjoy it longer.”
He nods like he gets it. “What else do you do, Miss Zara?”
“I decorate the tree and then change all my pillows and bedding.” She smiles at him. “I bake,” she admits. “I’m not good at all, but I try to bake one Christmas dessert every week.” She grimaces. “I have yet to make anything edible.” This makes him laugh. “I also pick out five new decorations for my tree every season.” Her hands are as animated as she is. “It’s little things that make me remember the holiday. Like this year, I got one for RC,” she tells him of Sofia and Matty’s first baby.
“That’s a cool one to do,” Colson says, looking at me. “We should do that.”
I nod, agreeing, as I pull into the driveway of my house, and she takes it in. “Welcome to our home,” I say as she checks it out. The house has been in the family since before I was born, but then I got it, gutted it, and redesigned it. It’s an open floor plan with three bedrooms.
We all get out of the truck, and I look over at Colson. “Go get the front door opened.” When he runs toward the front door, I look at Zara. “If you don’t want to decorate, then you don’t have to stay.”
She leans against the back of the truck. “Are you saying you don’t want me here in your house?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Of course not.” I open the back of the truck bed, putting on my gloves. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be here.”
“Thanks for the out, Cowboy”—she steps closer to me—"but if it’s okay with you, I’ll stay.” She steps toe to toe with me. “I’m having one of my best days.”
“Is that so?” I question, happy she’s smiling and has been all day. “Well, if you play your cards right—” I lick my lips. “It might get better.” She throws her head back and laughs a full-on belly laugh, and I feel it right in my dick.
