I chuckled. “You don’t say.”
He mock glared at me and swatted me on the arm. “No teasing, Daddy.”
“I never agreed to that. Teasing will be a regular occurrence. I maintain the right to tease you whenever you are being absolutely adorable, especially if I feel like I need to hug the stuffing out of you when you’re on one of your rampages. There will be definite teasing.”
“Turn here,” he said while maintaining his scowl.
I followed his directions and chuckled. “See? Adorable.”
He huffed and refused to talk to me for the next ten minutes, which only made me grin wider. And then we went around a big curve in the road and what seemed like miles of Christmas trees of all shapes and sizes dotted the landscape.
“Wow! This is beautiful. Thanks for including me in your tradition, baby.”
That wiped the frown from his face and replaced it with a grin. “You’re welcome, Daddy.”
I clasped Sanders’s wrist as he made to get out of the car. “Stay right there for a minute, okay?”
I had noticed that Sanders was constantly cold. Having zero body fat would do that to a person. So when he was at my house in just my shirts and some pastel panties, I had the heat up higher and ended up hanging around my house in T-shirts and basketball shorts so I wouldn’t get overheated. But if he got out of the car and then had to shuffle around for his jacket and various other cold weather accoutrements, he’d start cold and never get warm.
I reached behind his seat, grabbed his gear, and handed him his gloves, hat, and scarf while I got my stuff on. When he was ready, I handed over his jacket, which was the fluffiest down jacket I’d ever seen and reminiscent of the Michelin Man. I wasn’t quite sure how he could get any cuter, but I figured I’d find out soon enough. Only once he was bundled from head to toe did I let him get out of the car.
Hand in hand, we walked toward the man who was handing out axes and tree tags while giving instructions. We waited our turn until the guy asked how many trees we wanted. I was about to say one when Sanders said four. Confused, I raised a brow. Four? The man asked for a last name and Sanders gave him mine, which distracted me and for some reason made my heart beat faster. I’d have to unpack that reaction later. The guy handed me the axe and gave the tags to my boy, who bounced on his toes in excitement, and off we went.
“We have to get Fraser firs. Those are all in a big group over here.”
I followed him, axe over my shoulder, happy to watch his cute bubble butt as he led me toward his favorite trees. My mom’s favorite tree, and frankly, mine as well, was also the Fraser. I’d grown up only ever decorating Fraser firs, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to tease him a little. “Why don’t we go check out the Douglas firs first? Those are nice and full.”
I barely held back a grin when he turned toward me with a horrified look on his face. “What? No. Douglas firs are too soft and too full and have weak branches. They won’t hold heavy ornaments, and they have so many branches you can’t even see the ornaments it does hold.”
Wow, there was apparently a science to this. Who knew? I couldn’t help but poke him again. “Ok, then why not a Scotch pine?”
Truth be told, I didn’t even know what the hell a Scotch pine was. I’d seen it on the big wooden tree farm map at the entrance. This time Sanders stopped where he stood and turned around, hands on his hips, his cheeks pink with the winter chill, and his expression so put upon I bit my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Daddy, come on, a Scotch pine?” He laughed as if the very idea was ludicrous. “The needles are so sharp you’d be miserable trying to decorate it. Do you really want to wear gloves while decorating a Christmas tree?”
I opened my mouth, but before I could answer, he answered himself. “No.” He turned, calling over his shoulder, “Now, come on. I’ll show you why Fraser firs are the best Christmas trees ever.”
Smiling at his retreating back, I replied, “Well, okay, but…”
He waved his hands in the air, not even bothering to turn around. “No buts! I swear, after this you’ll never get another type of tree again.”
Was it really any wonder why I was falling for this boy? My face routinely hurt from smiling so much while I was with him. I couldn’t remember ever being this happy. We tromped through the snow in some kind of zigzag pattern I couldn’t figure out until he legit started skipping, yes, skipping toward a bunch of Fraser firs.
Snowflakes were sticking to his hat and his scarf, and when he stopped and turned around, he spread his arms wide. “See? Prettiest ever!”
“Nah, I’m positive you’re prettier.”
His cheeks pinked up even more, and he bit his lip trying not to grin. I called him pretty as much as possible because he seemed to love it. Occasionally, he’d preen and walk around my bedroom with just his panties on, knowing he was revving my engine and loving it. And let me just say, Sanders Hall coming out of his shell was something to behold.
Skipping, he stopped right in front of me, handed me one of the tree tags, pushed up on his tiptoes, and gave me a quick peck on the lips before twirling away. “Okay, there’s a gazillion Frasers here.” He waved his arms about to take in all the trees. “You go that way.” He pointed behind him. “And I’ll go this way.” He pointed ahead of him then spun and pointed at me. “If you find the perfect tree for your house, tag it and call out to me, and I’ll do the same. Also, my mom’s place is tiny, so I want a really small one for her. Oh, and I’ll need one for the store and a small one for the condo. Okay, Daddy?”
He spun around again, but I reached out and grabbed his hand, spinning him back to me. Pulling his sweet little body flush against mine, I kissed him properly until his pupils were blown, and he was panting and looking dazed. “Okay, baby.”
And off I went in the opposite direction, grinning like a fool when I turned back and saw he was still standing where I’d left him. When he met my eyes and saw my smirk, he huffed and trounced off in search of the perfect trees. After wandering around for a bit, I found several that were gorgeous but not tall enough. My family room ceiling was twenty feet up, so I figured, go big or go home. Or at the very least, go as big as the only ladder I owned.
I thought I’d found the perfect one when I heard Sanders shout, “Daddy!”
Chuckling at the fact he was calling me Daddy where anyone could hear him, and not minding one bit, I tagged the tree just in case and walked toward where I’d heard his voice. I heard him call out once more and turned a bit to the left to follow his voice. When I got to the area where I thought he’d be, all I could find were a bunch of footprints in the snow.
Setting down the axe, I walked around the tree, expecting he’d be hiding behind it, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was then I felt a solid thunk right in the middle of my back. Oh, no he didn’t. Turning, expecting to find the snowball throwing hooligan himself, I was again faced with fir trees as far as the eye could see, snow falling heavier, and no naughty boy in sight.
Two could play at that game. I leaned down and swiped up two handfuls of snow, mashing them together until I had the perfect snowball. But before I could start my search, another snowball hit me in the chest.