Now I needed to be there for her.

  My legs were longer, and I ran ten miles a day on my treadmill at work. Even with the cold air slicing at my lungs, it was easy to catch up with her.

  She slowed a little, but she was still moving in the agitated zig zag pattern. Finally, I just scooped her off her feet. She thrashed, her legs kicking out.

  I hooked her against my hip so she couldn’t whale on me, allowing me to wait her out. Finally, she sagged against me and we both went down in a heap.

  “Just go,” she said in a broken whisper.

  “Nope. I’m not going anywhere.” I dragged her onto my lap, draping her legs over my thighs so I could hold her close. Helpless, I just rocked her until she melted into me.

  I gathered her arms against my chest so I could wrap around her. Her teeth were chattering. In fact, her whole body was shaking.

  She drew her knees up against herself until she was burrowed into me.

  I shrugged out of my shirt and draped it over her, hoping the heat would seep in and she’d stop shaking.

  I wasn’t sure how long we sat there. Finally, the shudders subsided to occasional shivers. She lifted her chin to bury her face in my neck, and the puffs of her breath were reassuring on my skin. I continued stroking her back until her arms slipped down to loop around my back.

  “Rachel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She laughed against my skin. “Relative term.”

  I leaned back so I could look at her. “You scared me.”

  She looked down. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I heard the catch in her voice and I lifted her chin to look at me. Tears filled her eyes, but they didn’t spill over, slicing at my chest. “There’s no need to be sorry. I just need to know you’re okay.”

  She nodded mutely, took a breath, stopped, then took another.

  “It’s okay. It’s just us.”

  “Like that’s better.” She craned her neck before meeting my gaze. “How far did I run?” She closed her eyes. “I don’t even remember. Just tree branches were everywhere.”

  “Well, we’re almost to the seedlings.”

  “God.” She squeezed her eyes shut and the tears rolled.

  I cupped her face, smoothing my thumb over her wet cheek. “You sure can move.”

  She gave a hollow laugh. “I’ve walked all over this property since I landed here this summer. But I don’t think I’ve ever come out this far.” She wiggled closer again and laid her cheek on my chest with a light sniff.

  Helplessly, I rubbed her back.

  I was hoping she’d give me a clue as to what happened. I didn’t have the right to ask, especially when I hadn’t been forthcoming about my own baggage, but this felt bigger. As if this was the key to everything that made up Rachel Doyle.

  I rested my chin on top of her head, willing to wait her out.

  She pulled my plaid shirt up against her face like a blanket. Maybe even a protective shield.

  “So, I used to be an event coordinator.”

  “That doesn’t shock me.”

  She gave a half laugh against my chest. “Rachel Doyle, Creative Spark Planning.”

  The name scratched at my brain. I had an in-house person who took care of all of our charities and parties so we didn’t need to outsource for that sort of thing.

  “It took five years to grow my company. Fighting my way into the Manhattan elite wasn’t easy. Especially for a girl from Upstate New York. No family connections, no fancy bloodline.” She laughed. “My parents are accountants in Syracuse.”

  “Accountants?” My heart was slamming so loud, I could barely hear her voice over it.

  She’d been literally in my backyard? How did I not know her?

  “I know. Can totally see it from me, right? My baby sister didn’t go into the family business either. Our parents definitely didn’t understand us at all.”

  “Most parents don’t. Mine are academics—about as far removed from what I do as you can get.”

  “I guess we have that in common. Are you from the city?”

  I was about as blue blood as it got. Instead of walking into that landmine, I steered it back to her. “How did you get started then?”

  “I’d taken a class trip in my junior year. I loved the city from the moment I walked off the subway. I’d been prepared to do anything to stay there. I didn’t know exactly how it would happen, but I busted my ass and got a scholarship to NYU.”

  “Good place to start.”

  “I got my degree in business and worked events to make extra cash. I had an affinity for the parties, though. I hustled my way up from waitstaff, to assistant, to working small parties. I switched my major to marketing, but I only finished to get the piece of paper for my résumé.”

  “Real life is better than any internship.”

  “Got that right.”

  My heart settled down as she spoke.

  “So, I built Creative Spark and worked hard. Too hard. Way too hard. I added clients, making sure I was indispensable. I had a staff and a partner, but I don’t know if you can tell, I’m a little Type-A.”

  “You don’t say.”

  She pinched my side. “I’d been spinning the proverbial plates for so long that I didn’t notice there were way too many. I didn’t take breaks, no time off, never said no to a client.”

  I sighed against her blackberry-scented hair. “Burnout.”

  “Spectacularly. I had a panic attack that literally landed me in the hospital. I thought it was a heart attack.”

  “Oh, Rach.”

  “Yeah. The doctors said exhaustion. A simple word that encompassed so many things. Living on adrenaline and black coffee isn’t good for anyone. I didn’t take care of myself and didn’t sleep nearly enough for the level of work I was doing. And one day, my body said enough was enough.”

  “And you came here?”

  “My folks are great, but they are all spreadsheets and careful columns. They never understood what I did in the city. Aunt Laverne is my mom’s sister. I escaped to the orchard all the time as a kid. I was fascinated with the orchard and the lodge. My aunt made everything look effortless.”

  I stroked my hand down her silky ponytail. “Your aunt could be a drill sergeant.”

  She laughed against my neck. “She sure could. She’s the queen of delegation. I thought I had to handle everything for it to get done right. I was never without my phone. People would text me at two in the morning and I’d answer. I ran the social media accounts for eleven companies.”

  “Alone?”

  “Technically, my team did, but I had to make sure everything was right.”

  “And that’s why you had a flip phone.” Things started making sense. She literally had gone cold turkey.

  “I melted down at one of my biggest parties. Two hundred people were waiting outside the kitchen at a place called the Empire Penthouse.”

  I stilled. Oh, I definitely knew where she was talking about. Fifth Avenue was still one of the most elite places for events.

  “I’d been responsible for a virtual gallery set-up in the space. Crypto currency bidding was the theme and Reid Pierce wanted an elegant, slick space to show off his first big NFT show.”

  It had to be Reid. The world was so fucking small.

  “I’d been killing myself to get everything perfect for the event. It was going to send my company into the stratosphere. Instead, I crashed so hard I made a Rachel-sized crater in the earth.”

  “Reid Pierce is definitely a big deal, but nothing is important enough to send you to the hospital.”

  “Well, I didn’t know how close to the edge I was until it was too late.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Until I screwed up again today.”

  “No, you did not screw up. You just got a little overwhelmed. You would have pulled yourself together.”

  “No. I totally would have ended up face first in cocoa.” Her laugh was shrill. “Worse, I probably would’ve dropped the vanilla we were running out of.”

  “Vanilla?”

  “Not sure you’ve ever had a panic attack.”

  “No.”

  “You’re lucky. Little things become huge, then they layer on top of each other like a shit sundae. I kept hearing the bell for another sale, saw the ridiculous line of customers, and the dwindling trees, then my supplies—and we had so many hours to go.”

  I cupped her face. “Selling out is a good thing. You know that from marketing.”

  “Knowing it and experiencing it is a totally different thing. I’ve literally been hiding in my cabin until I did this event.”

  “It’s not an event.”

  She stiffened in my arms and tried to get up. I pulled her back down. “It’s not. This soft opening was only the beginning. And you did this. I’ve been running this Christmas Tree Farm for seven years and I’ve never sold out of my trees. Ever.”

  I cupped my hands around her fisted ones. She didn’t believe me. I lifted my hands to her cold cheeks, cupping them in my palms. “You came in to do a hot chocolate stand and created a whole experience for people instead.”

  She dragged in a breath. I could see her trying to find the faults.

  “You brought in an artist to make special ornaments, and you set up photo places for people to make social media posts, videos, or just memories for family. You didn’t just use cocoa packets with hot water here. Instead, you went the extra mile for everything, because that’s who you are.”

  “And I fell apart.”

  “No, you just got a little overwhelmed. Everyone does. Ransom and I could barely keep up with the fresh cuts people needed. I heard people bitching because of the wait time, but they waited. You know why? Because they wanted my trees.”

  “Of course they did. They’re beautiful.”

  “Didn’t stop Ransom from threatening to break necks as a gift with purchase.”

  “Stop. He did not.”

  “Under his breath he did. Luckily, there’s usually a chainsaw going so he couldn’t be heard.”

  She laughed and the tightness in my chest eased.

  “And we aren’t going to sell out today. It might seem like it, but we have plenty of trees for the season. This was just the first quadrant of trees.”

  “Quadrant?”

  This time, I was the one who laughed. “You didn’t think I’d actually run out of trees on the first day? I have been doing this for awhile.”

  “No. Well, maybe.”

  I lowered my mouth to hers. Her lips were cold, but they warmed quickly. “I promise you, we are just beginning.”

  The fact that I felt that on a number of levels was pushed firmly to the back of my mind. There was only the now and this moment. That was all it could be, even if a part of me wondered if it could be more.

  If we could be.

  Her long lashes fluttered open and those perfect sky-blue eyes looked back at me. “Can we go back?”

  “See, that’s—” I’d almost said my girl. “That’s the Rachel I know so well.”

  “I need to check some stock, and to make sure Mel is okay. I wasn’t expecting my aunt to come to help. What was she doing there?”

  “Hey, it’s going to be fine. Deep breath.”

  As if she’d been told that a time or two, she drew in a lungful of air.

  “You’re going to get something to eat first, and then you’re going to sit with the artist…what’s her name?”

  “Jayne.”

  “Right. You’re going to sit with Jayne and help out.”

  “But the CocoaBus—”

  “No. The bus is fine. Laverne is there.”

  She scrambled off of me and stood, her hands on her hips. “What? Because I can’t handle it?”

  “No.” I got up and managed to only groan once at the fact we’d been on the cold, hard ground for I didn’t even know how long. “Because you don’t have to do it all. You have help, you have employees. And if this is how it’s going to be every weekend, we’ll probably need to get someone else in to help out at the CocoaBus.”

  She turned around, giving me her back.

  I came up behind her and pulled her against me. “You don’t have to do it all alone.” I slipped my arm around her middle and kissed her neck. “That’s why this is different.”

  When she didn’t reply, I knew I’d won—even if she’d probably chew off her own tongue before saying it. I locked my hand around her forearm and lazily twirled her out. She laughed as her hair floated around her shoulders.

  The glazed look was gone from her eyes and her pale cheeks had some color again. I rolled her back in against my chest. “I even found a small case of vanilla when I was getting milk.”

  She gripped my shirt. “You did?”

  “I did.”

  “Is that why you were at the CocoaBus?”

  I nodded. “I was bringing over a case of milk. I got a text from Mel that you guys needed some help.”

  Of course Mel had been the one to ask, not Rachel. Maybe she’d get there one day.

  A guy could hope.

  “So you weren’t there to check up on me?”

  I clasped my fingers together along her lower back. “Well, I’m not going to say I wasn’t looking forward to seeing you. It’s been a crazy day.”

  Her lashes fluttered. “And then you saw me freaking out.”

  “No, I saw you needed a hand. I don’t mind playing hero.”

  She dragged her fingers down to my belly and pinched my side. “You wish.”

  Sometimes I did wish I could be a hero, especially for this woman. But she needed to fight her own battles right now, so she understood that she could.

  I let her go, then hung an arm around her neck, dragging her into me as we walked back toward the chaos waiting for us.

  Rachel tried to drag me over to the bus, but I managed to angle her toward the barn where we had a small break room. It took some cajoling, but I did manage to get her to make a taco salad from the spread that had been put out for lunch.

  It helped that I made my own plate. I didn’t realize I was starving until the scent of spicy meat hit my nose.

  We both wolfed down food and rehydrated. Trusting that she’d do as I asked, I let her free on the lot.

  She really wanted to go toward the CocoaBus, but the line of kids and parents waiting at the artist’s table was exactly what she needed to ease back in. She crouched in front of a redheaded little girl with pigtails, patiently allowing the girl to show off her wooden ornament.

  Something twisted inside of me. Just like when I’d had a moment thinking of a little girl with dark pigtails.

  I pushed it away and turned at Jim’s voice.

  “Hey. Where have you been? I had to start cutting in the west quadrant.”

  “Wow. That’s awesome.”

  Jim’s dark eyes had crinkles at the corners from smiling so wide. “I didn’t think we’d start cutting over there until December.” He slapped me on the arm. “Where did you go?”

  “Just made Rachel take a break.”

  “Good. She needed it. She’s been working harder than three people combined.” He folded his arms across his massive chest. “So, you and Rachel?”

  “Can we just cut trees?”

  Jim shook his head. “All right.” But the look on his face said volumes—and all of them said I was a jackass, which I already knew. “You’re the boss.”

  I liked to think so, but everyone around me made me wonder. I was pretty sure Rachel was the boss now, and I couldn’t say I minded.

  Chapter 22

  Rachel

  Ho-Ho-No

  Work was my solace, as it had always been.

  Of course it was also what led to me overdoing. But it helped to have people who understood. Who didn’t insist on talking too much and were just there, quietly supportive. Mostly.

  Considering one of those people was the man I was having a no-strings fling with was neither here nor there.

  Clay hadn’t made a big deal about my mini breakdown. He didn’t fuss or coddle. And his way of handling it had been exactly right. He hadn’t made me feel like a freak who couldn’t deal with life. We’d talked and I’d kept going, knowing that he had confidence in me that I could do this.

  I was doing this.

  It had been weeks and sales were brisk at both the CocoaBus and in the shop. Enough that I was hopping between the two almost daily. Now and then, I got overwhelmed, but I was trying to take lots of breaks and to remember my breathing.

  Oh, and to also enjoy the moment instead of worrying about the one that would come after.

  I was a work-in-progress there.

  It helped that my hands were usually busy though rarely in a way that involved yarn. I was so tired most nights that I found myself cuddled with Gary on the couch after dinner instead of crocheting as I usually did. All that brisk wintry air drained a girl.

  I was also beginning to think the incoming deliveries of Christmas stock would never end. Since we kept selling out of everything, that was probably a good thing.

  I’d heard the words “banner year” more often than I could count lately. I knew my Aunt Laverne attributed some of that to my talent at artfully arranging stock and decorating, but let’s be real. Festive windows and displays made people stay longer to browse, but it didn’t bring them in.

  No, what brought them in was the happy family atmosphere that Happy Acres promised. And the trees. Mustn’t forget the trees.

  The season hadn’t even reached the halfway point yet and it was already obvious that Clay would be down to mainly the mini potted trees before Christmas. They were cutting down and preparing so many that the sound of the chainsaw was pretty much constant outside nowadays.

  Along with the metaphorical ring of the cash register, both in the gift shop and out by the trees. We’d even run out of hot cocoa two days running last week. I’d had to put in a huge order of our base mix with our supplier, who’d verified the number with me several times before letting me go.