Whenever I saw Tyson walking towards the diner, I’d make it a point to take my break at that time, put an extra sway into my hips, yet never look at him either. If he was going to play this game, I was going to up the ante. That is until today. I am the chess piece, and he definitely is my king.
I mill around the farm, looking at all of the trees even though I know I’ll settle on the same style I always do. It’s still fun to walk around, see the excitement in the townspeople as they pick out their trees. Tyson even has areas that are staged here and there for family pictures—an old red truck, a tree in the back along with a sign used for a prop. At another area there’s a picnic type area set up, which is in full use with two toddlers crawling, roaming around while their parents try to get them to stay still long enough to capture the perfect image.
It makes me think, Maybe that’ll be Tyson and me a couple of years down the road. Judging by his smoldering looks, I bet having children with him would be easy. I’m sure he’d say, “We’re getting pregnant,” and then the next month I’d be pregnant. Tyson Black is that virile. He’s tall, so tall that even when I was up on the tips of my toes, he had to lean down so I could kiss his cheek. His dirty blond hair, longer than what it is in the summer, the scruff on his jawline showing he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, angular face. His eyes, though, they show more depth in their dark green, almost like the needles on a Christmas tree, which is kind of apt, really. When his jaw is completely smooth, you can see his dimples on his cheeks, but when it’s got some hair growth on it like he does today, they hide, and I can’t decide which I prefer more. Tyson is wearing his standard dark blue flannel shirt, which is open, a black shirt molded to his body beneath, hickory-colored work pants, and boots. This is the only version I’ve seen of him, and every time I do, my heart speeds up.
After I look around for a few minutes, I head back to the Fraser Christmas trees, keeping my eyes peeled for the perfect height and width. My house is a rented smallish two-bedroom cabin. The living area is on the smaller side, but the ceilings are tall at ten foot high, the only saving grace on making it not feel like a postage stamp. Not that Tyson doesn’t have perfect trees, but I’m kind of a weirdo when it comes to finding the one I’m looking for, which he knows after last year. He meandered around with me for well over an hour before I finally settled on one. I think that’s part of the reason he didn’t keep talking to me, that and him staking his claim on me, letting everyone know I’m unavailable. I could roll my eyes about that, except I kind of want to stake my own claim on him.
“Hmm,” I hum to myself, looking at the tree in front of me. It’s probably the tallest one I’ve selected thus far. Not for the first time am I begrudgingly thinking that Tyson is right—there’s no way this one will fit on top of my car, not that I’m going to admit that to him. He’d probably gloat for days on end.
“Did you find one?” The man of the hour comes up behind me, startling the pee out of me. Not really, but just about.
“Shit, you scared me, Tyson.” I look behind me. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, feet spread wide, as if he’s settled in.
“You okay?” He walks towards me.
“Oh yeah, and I think this is the one. Are you sure you can bring it over tonight? I don’t want anyone to snap it up.” Christmas in Mistletoe is like walking in a winter wonderland. Every house is decorated in town and on the outskirts of town. The businesses all get in it together and even hold an annual Christmas parade too.
“Let me go grab an axe, and I’ll get it down and put in my truck. That way, you don’t have to worry, sweetheart.” Tyson doesn’t give me any other words. Instead, I’m standing here, watching his retreating back, and boy do I love the view of every flex and pull of his body moving, and I wonder just what he’s packing underneath those clothes of his.
It doesn’t take long for Tyson to come back, axe on his shoulder, a grin playing on his face. I’m sure the reason for that little tidbit is because I’m practically drooling over the way he looks right now.
“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” Tyson knows exactly what he’s doing. The way he carries himself says it all.
“Maybe. Maybe I’ll just stand here and watch you work.” I arch my eyebrow. His smile deepens, and hello panties that are now soaked from that alone.
“You do that.” He gets to work after taking off his flannel shirt. His strong forearms give way to even stronger biceps, and I’m clearly here for an amazing show of watching Tyson Black wield an axe.
Three
Tyson
I felt Eve’s eyes on me the entire time I was cutting her tree down. I hated like hell it didn’t take long because I knew the next step would be for her to pay, and I was having a hard time dealing with the fact I’d be taking her money when she was already mine, even if she didn’t hear those words come out of my mouth yet.
Eve is at the cash register by the time I’ve hauled the tree to the back of my truck, knowing full fucking well I’ll be leaving and following her back to her place. One thing my Eve doesn’t have is patience. She’ll pace the entire time while she’s waiting for me, like she does when she’s waiting on a new delivery of books to the library. It’s just who she is.
“That’ll be one hundred and twenty-five dollars,” I hear Melanie say.
“Okay.” Eve starts to hand her the card to ring up her purchase.
“No charge,” I demand. Melanie takes her hand away, her smile never leaving her face. She’s been an employee since before my parents handed down the farm to me, an older lady who likes to work here for the extra cash.
“What do you mean, no charge?” Eve isn’t having any of this. I can see by the way she places her hands on her hips that she’s not going to let this go unsettled.
“It’s just what I said, no charge.” I nod my head to Melanie and grab Eve’s hand. “Give us a minute.” No one else is around. This is my time to let her know exactly what’s going to happen.
“Tyson, you’re acting like I can’t afford my own dang Christmas tree.” My stride is longer than hers, tempting me to pick her up. I resist, and instead match her pace while walking us towards the office, needing a place without peeping eyes and wondering ears. If I could pick her up to get to a closed-off area sooner without setting the tongues wagging, I would. Too bad that’s not the case.
“You don’t think I damn well know you can, Eve?” I stop in my tracks, and she has to skid to a halt so she won’t run into me.
“The way you’re acting, it sure seems that way.” Her hand is still in mine, but she continues throwing her attitude around, and boy am I going to enjoy fucking it out of her.
“I’ll explain as soon as we’re in the office. I don’t want the whole town of Mistletoe hearing what I have to say.” I took my tone down a notch. I pull her in, my lips moving to her ear, and tell her, “Unless you want them to. I know you’re a quiet person, so I’m trying to do this the right way, but sweetheart, you’re making it damn hard on me.”