He turned me around. “Okay, well, how about I lift you to him?”

  His hands slid over my hips to my flanks. “What? No, I’m too—” Evidently, not too heavy. He wrapped his arms around my upper thighs and lifted me like one of those cheerleaders I’d watched during my endless binge sessions of streaming television.

  I braced myself on the tree trunk, but I was almost eye level with the branch. Gary was too scared to scrabble away this time. I reached, but he was still too far. “Can you…” I squeaked as Clay took another step over.

  Dear God, was his face resting on my butt?

  I couldn’t worry about that right now.

  “It’s okay, buddy.” I stretched and grazed the fluff of Gary’s chest. It was so cold. “Come on, baby.” He gripped the tree harder, an orange frayed clump of yarn waving in the increasing wind.

  I couldn’t feel my cheeks, so I could only imagine how cold my sweet little kitten was. I wiggled to try and reach a little more and Clay clamped his arms harder around my thighs.

  “You got him?”

  “Almost. I just need another.” He took another step and I managed to curl my fingers around Gary’s body. He squirmed and then transferred those claws into my hand, then coat and crawled along the wool and into the cashmere against my neck. “Got him.”

  Suddenly, I lost height. I slid down Clay’s very firm body. He caught me around the waist and turned me around. Cold air puffed between us as we met eye-to-eye before he gently set me onto the ground.

  Gary popped up out of the scarf and hissed at Clay before dipping back down into my shirt and between my boobs.

  I laughed. “He says thank you.”

  Clay’s hand was still resting on the small of my back. “And you?”

  Lightly, I pressed my hand against the furry bundle under my shirt. “I’d say thank you, but it’s your fault he’s out here.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up into a crooked grin. “You’re a tough woman.” He rubbed my arms. “Let’s get you both inside.”

  “That sounds really good.”

  “I think we’ll order the pizza to be delivered.”

  “You still want to work?”

  “I have to go back to my regular day job on Sunday.”

  “Oh.” I’d figured this was his job. “What else do you do?”

  He stepped back. “This and that.”

  I huffed out a breath. “Well, that tells me nothing.”

  He shrugged. “Lots of programming stuff.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Stuff this little woman wouldn’t understand?”

  He tipped back his head. “Do you ever quit?”

  I gathered the edges of my jacket together to keep Gary covered—and me too. I was freaking freezing. “If you didn’t sound so condescending, then I wouldn’t…”

  “What? Be a smartass. I doubt that.” He swung his arm out. “After you, little lady.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “Technically, your boss.”

  “Definitely not my boss.” I stalked forward. Mercy, we’d gotten quite a bit away from my cabin. “I’m contracted out from Happy Acres.”

  “Contracted is still working for me,” he called after me.

  I raised a hand, flashing him the bird.

  “So, pepperoni sounds good?”

  Insufferable. “Extra cheese too,” I shouted over my shoulder. At least if I had to have him in my space, there would be bonus cheese.

  Chapter 7

  Clay

  Trauma Bonding

  Happy Acres was not like the city. There wasn’t a delivery option in the best of circumstances, let alone after seven in the evening. Which was ridiculous, but not surprising.

  On a Saturday night.

  I had to confess that was one of the few things I missed when I was here. The sense of calm that hit me when I crossed the town line made up for it every time.

  I looked up from my phone at the soft voice.

  Rachel was cooing at her cat—sorry, kitten. The little monster could take flight with those ears. I couldn’t imagine what a full grown Gary would look like. Based on his ears and his paws, I’d say bobcat. Currently, he was resting his head on her chest, purring like a motor.

  Now that Rachel wasn’t yelling at me, she seemed downright tiny. She still made my mouth water in the most inconvenient way. It was easier to ignore that when my stress was on eleven, but here in the quiet…not good.

  I slipped my phone back into my pocket with a frown. I got the whole oversized sweater thing that women seemed to have an affinity for, but even her shirt seemed too big on her. At the same time, it was worn enough to make me wonder if she’d lost weight.

  I got that it was the ultimate goal for many women, but it didn’t match her personality. I glanced around the room and didn’t see a single mirror.

  When I’d boosted her up to get the cat, she’d seemed too slight in her endless layers of clothes. As if she was trying to cover up the fact that she was so thin. And her personality also didn’t fit the way she hunched into herself, only to verbally spar with me a moment later.

  She glanced up at me, her slim finger stroking down the brindle-colored fur of his back. Sharp blue eyes peeked from her shaggy hair. “You’re staring.”

  I blinked. “Just trying to figure you out.”

  She swiped at her bangs then frowned at me. “Figure out what?”

  “I’m wondering why such a bright woman is hiding out here.”

  Quickly, she looked back down at the cat. “What makes you think I’m hiding?”

  I narrowed my eyes. Deflecting with a question. Interesting. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  She wasn’t at all convincing. But then again who was I to ask? I was doing the same damn thing. Turnbull was about as far from my New York City life as you could get without being in a different country.

  I still couldn’t resolve her discount clothes mixed with the designer label of her jeans and boots. I’d been intimately close to the tag on the small of her back when I’d had her in my arms. Everything about her didn’t exactly fit. She was a puzzle.

  One I shouldn’t be looking to solve.

  And yet, here I was. Intrigued.

  “My signal sucks in here.”

  “Lots of trees.”

  I nodded toward the door. “I’m going to see about the pizza.”

  She nodded and stood with the kitten still in her arms. “I’ll feed Gary.”

  I left her to it and stepped out on her porch. I was pretty sure she’d already fed the cat when we got back inside, but I wasn’t privy to the ways of the care and feeding of pets. I’d been shipped off to boarding school as a kid and never got the chance to have a dog or cat.

  As an adult, I’d never made the time for one. Hell, I slept at my office more often than I cared to admit. Another reason I guarded my time at the tree farm.

  I fired off a text to Ransom.

  Clay: I need you to go grab me a pie at House of Cheese. Pepperoni and extra cheese.

  Ransom: Do I look like your assistant?

  Clay: You’re the one who followed me out here.

  Ransom: And you’re the one who ran off to find the pretty girl.

  Clay: We had a pet trauma.

  Ransom: And?

  Clay: Just get the pizza, man.

  Ransom: Forget the pizza. What was the pet trauma?

  I rolled my eyes. Figures it would be the pet part he cared about. If we didn’t live in the city, Ransom would have a herd of animals.

  Clay: She’s got a kitten and it got out. Took us forever to find him.

  Ransom: Is it okay?

  Clay: Currently getting all the treats and love from his owner.

  Ransom: I’d cuddle up and beg for treats from her too.

  Clay: Watch it.

  Ransom: What? She’s single, right? I could use a distraction when you’re playing lumberjack.

  Clay: What, to help you spy on me?

  Ransom: Maybe she’s into spy games.

  He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t an obsessive bodyguard. Though I had an inkling there was more to that than I’d ever understand.

  I cracked my knuckles. Nor did I like him thinking of her as single.

  Clay: Maybe you need to mind your business about her.

  Ransom: That kind of talk isn’t going to get you a pie.

  I used my thumb to crack each finger of my free hand. Giving Ransom any buttons to push would only make him more annoying.

  Clay: Please.

  Ransom: Wow. That must have been hard.

  Ransom: So is that a pretty please with cheese on top?

  Ransom: Not anchovies though, right?

  Ransom: Or is that extra anchovies?

  The asshole knew I hated anchovies. But thankfully, he’d re-routed from his Rachel preoccupation to his usual annoying tendencies.

  Clay: You’ll find anchovies in your boots if they’re on my pizza.

  Ransom: Cold, man. See you in a few.

  Clay: You don’t need directions?

  Ransom: Why you pay me the big bucks.

  I tried to pay him the big bucks, but the asshole wouldn’t accept much more than the standard rate. Because he’d researched to find out what standard security made.

  Too bad he didn’t understand he was anything but standard when it came to personal security. Nor would he talk about it. He wasn’t the same kid I’d grown up with.

  And betrayed.

  I fingered the compass medallion I wore under my shirt, before tucking it back where it belonged. I forced myself to shake off those old memories. They were far safer in the past. Ransom may not be the happy and carefree guy I’d met in boarding school, but we’d both changed that night.

  In more ways than one.

  I turned back to the warm glow of Rachel’s place and slipped back inside. Her cabin was beyond tiny. Dollhouse-small, but it smelled like her. Flowery with a hint of tart blackberries.

  Had to be blackberries. The universe was cruel and capricious to give her my favorite scent.

  She was standing over the kitten who was daintily eating off a tiny plate set on one of the stools at her kitchen counter. It was little more than a galley kitchen with an impossibly small stove. Who even made a two-burner cooktop?

  Then again, the advent of the tiny house probably made just about anything possible. Her place wasn’t quite that small, but I’d bet I could fit it in my office with room to spare.

  She’d cleaned up the explosion of yarn since I’d been outside. The back of her couch faced the door with one of those skinny tables that never made sense to me tucked against it. A lamp, a pile of books about various crafts, and a wax melter were lined up like a magazine cover.

  The books looked well used instead of just used for staging. And the suede-colored melter was pumping out the blackberry scent. Though I had a feeling I’d find the same sweet and tart scent at the nape of her neck.

  I really needed to stop thinking about anything to do with her neck or my proximity to it.

  I slipped around the couch to her coffee table and picked up one of the pumpkins that had been scattered around earlier. It was a clever design that even included a cinnamon stem.

  “You made these?” The first one was pink, and then I picked up a larger one in a traditional orange. I spotted another basket full to the brim on a small end table at the opposite end of the loveseat. This one was stuffed with what appeared to be winter gear in more neutral colors. “And all of those?”

  She looked up from the Gary show and her cheeks pinked up. “I went a little crazy when I learned how to crochet.”

  Lightly, I tossed the pumpkin in the air. “For a year?”

  Gary’s whiskers twitched as he watched the pumpkin.

  “Since September.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Wow.” I set the pumpkin down and moved to the scarves and dug down, counting as I went. There were hats with fluffy balls on the top stacked along the bottom. They were simple designs, but could have been in a store. They even had little leather tags touting that they were handmade. “There’s over twenty hats and scarves here.”

  She shrugged. “Gifts.”

  “Or…”

  She peered at me through her bangs. “Or?”

  “You could sell them at the truck. It’s easy enough to get a tax ID number or you could probably put it under the store’s domain.”

  “It’s an idea.” She stroked the cat one last time before picking up the dish to wash it. “I was thinking about the truck before you so rudely tried to kill Gary.”

  I dropped the cream-colored hat back into the basket. “I didn’t try to kill your cat.”

  Gary hopped down off the stool and bounded over to me. I wasn’t sure what to do. Retreat? Dodge? He pounced on my boot before I could move. Evidently, my laces were delicious.

  “A little help?”

  She dried her hands before neatly hanging the towel off the lip of the sink. “You’re in his house, we’re just visitors.” She dropped onto the couch and unearthed her iPad from the cushions.

  Gently, I tried to nudge him away, but he dug in, his nails scraping against the thick leather.

  She snort-giggled, but she didn’t make any move to help. She flipped open the cover of her tablet and tapped on the screen.

  I hobbled over to the club chair, but there was no way I’d be able to fold myself into that. I gingerly made my way between the chair and coffee table to sit beside her. She inched closer to her side of the loveseat.

  “I’m not going to bite.”

  She twisted so she could lean back against the arm and rested the iPad on her legs like a shield. “You’re only here because there’s pizza being delivered.” She frowned. “How did you manage that anyway?”

  “Ransom.”

  “The guy who was with you? Looks like he needs to take the coat hanger out of his jacket?”

  I huffed out a laugh. Gary gave up on my boots and hopped up onto the U-shaped club chair to nap. “Is that a kind way of saying he needs to get the stick out of his ass?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “You said it, not me.”

  “I’m pretty sure the military put it there. He’s been out for two years, not that you could tell.”

  She hugged the iPad against her chest. “Does he work for you?”

  “Technically.”

  Her eyebrow spiked.

  “We’ve known each other forever.”

  “He’s your assistant?”

  “Definitely not.” At her continued quizzical look, I took a second to shrug out of my jacket. I didn’t want to lie, but I definitely didn’t want to tell her I needed a bodyguard.

  Sort of.

  At least according to my best friend and the board of directors—including my grandfather. For the most part, Ransom left me to my own devices when I was in Turnbull. He didn’t mind the manual labor out here and only complained every hour or so about helping out with cutting down trees.

  Sometimes he went a whole afternoon.

  “Best friends do favors, right?”

  “That’s true. Natalie would get me a pizza if I asked her to bring it with her. But get it for me?” She tilted her head. Her gaze drifted over my plaid shirt to my work pants. “Hmm.”

  “I don’t think the three of us would fit in this dollhouse.”

  “That’s why I don’t have people over.” She gave me a tight smile, then went back to her iPad. “I have some notes and drawings about the van.” She tapped her Apple pencil against her chin. “Well, bus, I guess. Whatever.” She used it to swipe against the glass before she handed the tablet to me. “Here.”

  I took it and looked at her sketches. They were surprisingly detailed and included measurements and a supply list as well as links to what looked like social media videos.

  “I was thinking we’d keep it simple so we could use it for that newsletter soft opening I’ve been talking to Mary about.”

  I swiped through the digital notebook and found a graphic. It was professionally done with festive clipart hot cocoa. It looked like an invitation to a party with an emphasis on the loyalty aspect of being a valued repeat customer at the Christmas tree farm.

  I looked up to find her nibbling on her lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if you had an official name or not. I can change it up easily.”

  “It looks amazing.”

  She tapped the white stylus against her thigh. “Thanks. The signup sheet you left at the gift shop already has a lot of names on it. I figured if we pushed it a little, we could open the tree stand for a special loyalty weekend. Hot chocolate, some raffles.” She flipped the pencil between her fingers like a drumstick. “Oh, maybe we could decorate a tree and give people some inspiration for what to do with a big tree.”

  “Tree lighting?”

  She snatched the iPad from me. “Oh, that’s a good idea.” She quickly scribbled, the pen tapping against the glass as the notes flowed out of her.

  I sat back and folded my arms. I’d always relied on the word of mouth factor when it came to my trees. I was often drowning in business matters with Winslow Tech and liked keeping my holiday project as simple as possible. But the itch I got between my shoulder blades when a good idea was brewing wouldn’t be denied.

  She pulled her feet up and crossed her legs as she continued to scribble.

  “Gonna clue me in?”

  She looked up, seeming almost surprised to see me across from her. I tried not to let my ego feel the kick. It was a rare day when a woman didn’t focus on me more than a project.

  In theory, it should have been a good thing.

  In theory.

  “You have a few of those bigger twelve foot trees, right?”

  I nodded. “Our hybrids are ready this year. We cross-pollinated a few different trees to get the fullness that is popular with customers, as well as the strong scent people want, combined with limited needle loss and maximized ease of care.”

  Her wide blue eyes blinked owlishly. “Yeah, you don’t get to write the copy.”

  My molars snapped together.

  “What? Don’t look at me like that. Did you hear yourself?”

  “It was perfectly straightforward.”

  “Yeah, for a college professor who doesn’t have a sense of humor.” She suddenly giggled as she hugged her iPad to her chest. “Your face.”