Page 3 of Deck the Hauls

As a field of purple and pink flowers whizzed by, Mariah Carey singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” filled the truck cabin. I grabbed my handbag and rummaged for my phone. Yesterday I’d changed my usual ring tone to something a little more festive, fueled by the realization that Christmas was less than two months away and excitement over the HolLove movie. My hand hit a hard rectangular object and I pulled it out. The same number I’d missed a call from yesterday flashed across the screen.

“It’s fine if you want to take it,” Roz said, her lips twitching. Was she judging my choice of ring tone?

“That’s okay. It’s nothing important.” Probably just a scam caller. They could be persistent. I switched my phone to silent, cutting Mariah Carey off mid chorus, and lifted my head in time to see a large greenhouse.

“That reminds me. Reception can be spotty out here, so you may have difficulty making or receiving calls while you’re out with Dana.”

It was disappointing that I wouldn’t be shadowing the intriguing Roz, but she had assured me I’d learn a lot more from her head farmer. And that was what I was here for. Would she be more like the stereotypical farmer I’d imagined?

“Over there is the barn that’ll be used as a set.” Roz nodded her head toward a large wooden barn. Two white trucks were parked out front. One had a small generator trailer attached. The other had its back doors swung wide open, and two people were unloading plywood. Looks like the crew is setting up. I straightened, adrenaline buzzing through me. I’d be in there soon, shooting.

“And here are the Christmas trees,” Roz said as we drew closer to rows of dark-green trees. I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to hum “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” aloud.

Roz turned right and the truck began bumping down a narrow dirt road that bordered the row of Christmas trees. I clutched the side of the door to steady myself. A few moments later, we came to a stop outside a small log cabin surrounded by trees. The cabin was adorable. The entire thing appeared to be constructed from wood, from the stacked horizontal logs that formed the walls, the wooden front door and window frames and the wooden shingles that covered the roof. It would make the perfect set for a remake of Hansel and Gretel—or a HolLove film, for that matter.

“This is Dana’s house.” Roz turned off the engine and pushed open the door.

A fresh, piney scent tickled my nose as I jumped out. I wrapped my scarf more tightly around my neck. It was definitely colder here than Brooklyn. From the ground, the trees were even more impressive. Dense, green, and perfectly shaped. Nothing like the sad-looking Christmas trees my family made a point of picking out every year, though they were wonderful in their own way. In less than two months, the trees in front of me might be the centerpiece of someone’s home, lovingly decorated with lights, tinsel, and ornaments, surrounded by presents. I smiled. God, I love Christmas.

“Dana said she’d be out back.” Roz walked briskly toward a faint path that meandered between the Christmas trees at the side of the cabin.

I followed her, staring through the rows of trees. Beautiful and so peaceful. It was hard to believe that in a few days the Christmas tree farm would be swarming with cast and crew. And even harder to believe that two weeks later, filming would be finished and the movie would be rushed into post-production so it could be released before Christmas.

The last movie I’d worked on had taken over three months to film and was released six months after that. They were obviously completely different beasts: a low-budget made-for-TV movie versus a Hollywood blockbuster backed by one of the largest studios, but still… two weeks? My agent had assured me that it was standard for HolLove.

Hopefully this film would be a more positive experience than Clique had been.

As we neared the back of the cabin, I noticed a faint rhythmic thudding. I tilted my head. Was that coming from the forest? The sound stopped, there was a loud crack, and then it started again. I frowned. What the hell was it?

The path led us out of the trees and into a grassy clearing. A woman wearing safety goggles and earmuffs, lit with sunshine like she had multiple high-strength HMI lamps from the lighting department aimed at her, stood behind a large round of wood with another, smaller piece of wood on top. Despite it being fifty degrees, she wore a white tank top that clung to the curves of her breasts and left her toned, tanned arms bare. A red flannel shirt was wrapped around her waist, hanging down the back of her brown work pants. So this was Dana?

She lifted a wooden axe with both hands, her biceps rippling. The silver axe head glinted in the sun. She swung the axe down, lowering her upper body and bending her knees. Her brown ponytail swayed from the force. The axe hit the wood with a loud thud, splitting it partway.

Good lord. I blinked. Was she chopping the wood in slow motion or was my mind just struggling to process this scene? Dana yanked the axe out of the wood and lifted it again.

Roz’s arm shot out in front of me. I froze mid-step.

“Wait until she’s finished,” Roz said. “You don’t want to be struck by flying splinters. She could just use a chainsaw, but she finds it therapeutic… and a full body workout.”

It was definitely a full body workout. Every muscle in her body appeared engaged in lifting the axe up and smashing it down with force. I couldn’t draw my eyes away.

Dana brought the axe down again and the piece of wood splintered into two with a loud crack.

“Dana!” Roz called.

Oblivious, Dana picked up the chopped wood and threw it on top of a pile near the shed behind her, before turning back to the block.

“Dana!” Roz raised her voice, walking into the clearing.

Dana’s head jerked up. She dropped the axe on the wood-chip-covered grass, slid off the earmuffs so they hung around her neck, and then lifted her goggles. As her eyes connected with mine, a jolt of something like recognition sent my pulse racing. I was positive I’d never met or seen Dana before, yet there was something so familiar about her deep brown eyes, dark eyebrows and slightly crooked mouth. She yanked the flannel shirt from her waist and wiped her face. Her biceps rippled again with the motion and something stuck in my throat. I swallowed as she started toward us.

“Dana, this is Emily. Emily, Dana,” Roz said.

I held out my hand, hoping it wasn’t too sweaty. The warmth of Dana’s hand encased mine.

I smiled. “Thanks so much for letting me shadow you. Um, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s fine,” Dana said, pulling her hand free without returning my smile.