“What do you even like to eat?”
“Meat.”
“Otters like meat?”
He straightened and told her, “Put your jacket on and let’s go. We have to pick up food on the way.”
“Wait, tell me what you like to eat, and I’ll keep it in the fridge this week.”
His blond brows drew down. “What?”
She shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. “What do you want in the fridge?”
“You don’t have to stock your fridge for me.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’m going to the store tomorrow on my lunch break anyway. Just tell me. If it makes you feel better, you can put a few yogurts in your fridge for me.”
“That’s what you eat?”
“It’s my favorite snack. Oh, and honey oat granola mixed up in it. Cherry flavored yogurt.”
He slid a glance to the fridge. “I like spaghetti with extra meat in the sauce.”
“There, now was that so hard?”
“Don’t go to any trouble, though.”
“Should I wear this beanie or this one?” she asked, holding up a black one with a brown snowball at the top and a pink one with no snowball.
“Black. It matches the red jacket and your leggings better.” He dragged his eyes up and down her legs to her snow boots and back up. “You’re very shapely, and I like it.”
Shapley. Huh. She liked that. So she struck a pose with her butt poked out and told him, “Permission granted to my pretend-boyfriend to pat my butt when he feels like it tonight.”
His laugh sounded downright naughty. “Don’t grant permission unless you’re ready to get manhandled.”
Manhandled sounded fun.
“What are we doing tonight?” she asked excitedly. “Caroling from door to door? Hot cocoa and ice skating? Window shopping for Christmas presents?”
“Nope, nope, and also nope. We’re finishing my workday together.”
“Oh. Well, we’ll make your work fun either way.”
His smile was slow and soooo handsome. “I knew you would be up for it.”
Outside, his truck took up the whole parking lot on account of the massive trailer of Christmas trees he pulled behind it. Spruces, to be exact. “You got the rest of your order.”
“Yep, and they won’t be shorting us again.”
“Were they scared?”
The sneer on his face was answer enough. She liked that he was tough and didn’t roll over on business. It’s probably why her dad trusted him with the sawmill.
He opened the passenger side door for her, then made his way around the front of the truck and climbed behind the wheel. The drive was short, just ten miles to a Christmas tree lot in the middle of downtown.
The rush was just beginning as people were getting off work, and the excitement built as she and Kieran unloaded trees off the truck and set them upright against wooden pallets. She got the tiny ones, of course, and Kieran unloaded the giant trees. They seemed to weigh nothing to him. Otter shifters were very, very strong.
Holiday music was blaring on the speakers, and the owner of the lot was a friendly sort of man. He and his wife ran the lot and were helpful and cheerful.
There was one remaining tree on the back of the trailer, but it was little and knobby and ugly.
Leslie loved it.
“Are you okay?” Kieran asked as he folded the check from the vendor into his wallet.
“What do you do with the little pitiful trees?” she asked.
Kieran frowned at the three-foot misfit with the sparse branches. “Put them in the woodchipper and make mulch.”
“Can I have it?” she asked, clasping her mitten-clad hands in front of her.
His dark eyes darted to the tree and then back to her. “Of course. That tree would be perfect for the tiny house.”
“Today is the best day ever.”
“Oh, just wait,” he told her.
They walked down the street and grabbed a couple slices of pepperoni pizza from a joint on the corner, then walked slowly back, making boot prints in the new fallen snow that coated the sidewalk. And then he set out a blanket on the back of the trailer and grabbed her by the waist, hoisted her up, and waited until she was settled and comfortable to hop up and sit beside her.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Now you watch.”
Watch what? She scanned the tree lot, but it was just a half dozen couples and families picking out trees. When she looked back at Kieran, he was wearing a slight grin and his attention was on a couple with a little girl, sifting through the eight-foot trees for the perfect one. “This is my favorite part of my job,” he admitted low.
So she paid more attention. She watched the smiles on that family’s faces when they found the perfect tree, and she laughed when a couple jumped up and down as the vendor put a net around the one they picked out. Her heart got all full when a woman with a little poodle on a leash picked out a small tree and the vendors offered the pup a holly-shaped dog treat.
There was kindness here.
No judgement, no veiled insults. It was just people finding a tree that would live eternally in their holiday memories of this year. And Kieran was a part of that. Even if they didn’t realize it, he was.
“You like your job,” she murmured, awed by the look of contentment on his face as he watched the families pick their trees.
“I like it more this season than I have in a long time,” he murmured.
It felt like a big admission, so she asked, “Why?”
He bit his bottom lip and looked at her thigh, all flattened out on the edge of the trailer. “I guess I’m learning to appreciate the moment more this year.”
When he lifted his lightened golden eyes to hers, Leslie’s breath got caught in her throat. “I think that’s happening to me, too.” But she couldn’t put a finger on why.
Kieran’s attention dipped to her lips. “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” came on the loudspeakers. The snow was falling lightly, everyone around them was happy, and everything in this moment was just…perfect.
Kieran leaned in, and Leslie closed her eyes, waited for his lips to press to hers. But when they didn’t, she eased her eyes open again. He was hovering there, a slight frown marring his blond brows.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured in a growly voice that lifted the fine hairs on her body.
“I don’t think you can mess it up if you tried,” she whispered.
Then he leaned in and kissed her.
His lips were warm and soft against hers, and the tickle of his whiskers drew a smile from her lips. The bright pink butterflies went wild in her stomach as his mouth moved against hers, and when he slipped his tongue inside? The whole world faded away, leaving only them and the music in existence. A soft rumbling sound started deep in his throat and rattled against his chest. She pressed her hand there, just inside his jacket to hear the growl. She hadn’t realized otters growled like this.
She didn’t know how long it took him to ease back, but she didn’t care if the whole town saw them.
“That was awesome,” she whispered, inches away from his face.
His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen them, and he looked confused. His shoulders were lifting with his breath, and his heart pounded against her palm. “I should take you back home,” he murmured.