Minutes later, Anna ventured out of the barn at the Savage farm. She took a moment to enjoy the merriment of children scampering through the grove of Christmas trees. Families roamed, searching for the perfect tree. Older students greeted Ryan where he waited near the booth.
Strolling couples—perhaps their first Christmas together—underscored for Anna the coming loneliness of the life she’d chosen. She placed her hand atop her child to reassure herself as much as the baby.
As she approached, Ryan straightened. “Is this too much walking for you? Should we go back to the car?”
She started to tell him she’d changed her mind about finding a tree. But he appeared so happy showing her around his family farm, she didn’t have the heart to cut short their adventure. “I’m fine. I want to get a tree today.”
His brow creased. “Are you sure? Because we can do this another time.”
But already the time seemed far too short. The time before the baby arrived. Time with Ryan. And once he left, she sensed their friendship would irrevocably change.
She needed to make the most of this carefree, spectacular day. Which was one of the hardest things she’d learned after Mateo died. That nothing lasted forever. She should enjoy her freedom from diapers, sleepless nights and worrying about the bills while she could.
Anna studied the man who cared enough to help her transition through the holiday. Handsome and caring. Ryan, her best friend forever.
Was that what forever looked like between her and Ryan? Friends only? That’s what she wanted, right?
She swallowed. “Professionally speaking, which kind of tree do you recommend, Mister Sabbage?”
He gave her a slow smile. When her knees wobbled, his hand steadied her arm. Eliciting a wobbling of a different sort in her heart.
But then came a rippling movement within her womb. Her eyes widened, and her hand fell to her rounded abdomen.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” A prick of tears burned her eyelids. She smiled at him. “The baby moved.”
He dropped his hand.
She blinked at his sudden reaction. He loved kids, yet he acted as if he were afraid of the baby. “What’s the matter?”
His gaze fell to the ground. “Nothing. I just—”
“Anna!”
Florence Savage hurried out of the tree booth. Her frosted blond hair belied her sixty-something age.
Mrs. Savage enfolded her into an embrace. “You look stunning. Motherhood suits you, Anna Banana.”
“You look marvelous, Mrs. Savage.”
Behind his mother, Ryan made a face and rolled his eyes.
Without turning around, his mother fluttered her hand over her shoulder at Ryan. “Stop being a pest.”
His mouth dropped open. “How did—?” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Eyes in the back of my head, son. Essential skill for anyone in the teaching profession.” She cupped Anna’s cheek in her warm, dry palm. “Essential skill for motherhood, too.”
Anna soaked in the tenderness in his mother’s gaze. “Thank you for letting me know about the job.”
Mrs. Savage patted Anna’s cheek. “Your résumé and phone interview got the job.”
Over the years, Ryan’s mother had worked her way up the teaching ladder to become a high school principal. And she was a powerful champion for at-risk students in the community. Proving herself a great friend to Anna in her hour of need, too.
Seth Duer stepped out from the row of trees. “Aren’t you supposed to be working the booth, Florence?”
Mrs. Savage arched her eyebrow. “Help Anna pick out a tree, Ryan, while I deal with this old coot.”
“Who’re you calling an old coot?” Seth Duer said, a smile playing around his mustached lips.
Anna wondered for a second... No way. Although, it had been a long time since Mr. Duer was widowed. She followed Ryan into the thicket of trees. “Your mom’s been alone four years now?”
He paused to let a dad and his preschool daughter idle by. “Only if you don’t count all five kids still living on the farm with her.” His eyes cut to Anna’s. “What a bunch of losers in the romance department, huh?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “The only people allowed to insult you, Ryan Savage, are me and your family. You’re not a loser.” She cocked her head. “Oblivious, maybe. A little slow...” She tapped her finger on her temple.
He lunged. “Says you—”
Squealing in feigned terror—as he meant her to—she darted behind a tree for cover. “You gotta catch me first, Savage,” she yelled.
The old schoolyard game. Savages and Pruitts were frenemies from way back. Capture the flag without flags. A landlubber’s version of catch and release.
“Ann...na...”
She smiled at his cajoling voice.
“Come out, come out wherever you are. Anna Ba... Nan...nah...”
His voice sounded farther away so she took off, zigzagging between the rows. His boots thudded behind her.
Panting, she paused to regain her breath. Resting her hand on the spindly bark of a spruce, she blew a strand of hair out of her face. The bulb shape of the trees hid her ballooning belly.
“I’ll find you.” His voice drifted. “I always do...”
“Only ’cause I let you,” she whispered.
The wind rustled the fragrant evergreen branches. And there were faint echoes from “other” children at play. She strained to hear his footsteps over the distant jingling on the sleigh harness.
An arm shot out from around the tree.
Squealing—this time not so feigned—she allowed herself to be caught as he wrapped his hands around her upper arms. Her shoulder blades pressed against his chest, she closed her eyes, relishing the strength of his embrace. The wild thrumming of his heartbeat vibrated through her, matching the drumbeat of her own heart.
Grasping her shoulders, he gently angled her to face him. His eyes twinkled before another expression took its place. “Gotcha. As I knew I would.” The blue-green of his eyes deepened.
“I knew you would, too.” She forced the words from her constricted throat.
His hands framed her face. She nestled her cheek against the roughened texture of his palm. She’d always admired his hands. Manly, well formed. Not just the hands of a schoolteacher or researcher. Someone much more than she’d ever allowed herself to imagine.
Without conscious thought, she took a step closer. Her stomach rammed into him.
Flinching, he drew back. Taking a ragged breath, he tore his gaze away. “Sorry.”
What was he sorry about? Sorry about almost starting something neither of them could finish? For one dizzying, terrifying second, she contemplated telling him—what?
What could she say? He finally had his chance to return to the work he loved. She should be relieved he had the good sense to stop whatever had been about to happen.
But why didn’t she feel relieved?
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Let’s find you a tree.”
* * *
Of all the trees in the Enchanted Forest, she’d picked a scraggly, waist-high specimen.
“Seriously, Anna?” Ryan made a sweeping motion. “What about one of those bigger firs? Or one of the blue spruces? They’re pretty.”
Anna crossed her arms over her stomach and got that stubborn look in her eye. “I like this one.”
He mirrored her stance. “It’s not even shaped nice.”
She stiffened. “I want this one.”
He scrubbed his chin. Her likes and dislikes—as always—were a complete mystery to him.
She uncoiled. “I’ll carry it out myself.”
Ryan tugged her aside. “No one wants to have to deliver a baby today at Open House. I got this.”
He hefted the potted tree. The branches slapped his cheek, and he spit out a mouthful of pine needles. He staggered toward the booth. She followed on his heels.
At the nearby baler, his youngest brother, Luke, hurried toward them. “Hey, Anna.”
“Luke, tell Anna this is not the right tree for her. Tell her how this tree won’t decorate pretty.”
She jabbed her finger. “Luke, you tell Ryan it’s my choice. And I choose this one. Tell him—”
“It’s a Virginia pine.” Luke’s eyes flicked from Anna to Ryan. “The foliage will eventually become denser.”
She folded her arms again. “I want this tree.”
Ryan blew out a breath. “This isn’t a cut tree, Anna. You’re going to have to water this one.”
“You have to put water in the base of cut trees, too.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll plant it. A tribute to my life before returning home.”
His mouth thinned. “Where will you plant it? Outside that sorry excuse for a trailer you’ve rented?”
“Maybe I’ll rent to own. What do you care? You won’t be sticking around long enough to watch it grow.” She glared at him. “Or anything else.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “You’re big on memorials, aren’t you? Whatever happened to living in the present?”
Rising on her tiptoes, she got in his face. As much as the baby between them allowed. “You’re a fine one to talk about the present when you can’t wait to shake the sand off your feet.”
Luke brushed his hand across the needles. “Don’t judge this tree by its current appearance, bro. It’s still in the process of becoming.”
Her nostrils flared. “Totally.”
Like Oscar, Maria and Zander. Like him?
His brother ran his finger along the reddish-brown trunk. “But it’s also straight and true. No reason Anna can’t plant it. By the fifth year of growth, this tree will be a gorgeous landscape addition.”
She smirked. “You’ve just got to see its potential.”
Was that his problem? Did he lack vision? Or was he fixed on the wrong vision of himself somewhere else? Without a caring adult in their lives, would the children ever fulfill their God-given potential? As for Anna...
Ryan folded his arms. “It’s your Christmas. Your trailer.”
“Yes, it is.” She gave the netting machine the once-over. “Does it need wrapping?”
“The funnel shakes the tree of loose needles.” Ryan glowered. “If Luke shakes this Charlie Brown wannabe, there won’t be anything left to decorate.”
Her brows lowered. “I love this tree.”
Ryan scoured his neck with his hand. “I guess this is the one, then.”
She fluttered her lashes. “Great.” She wheeled around to Luke. “How shall we load it? Lash it to the top?”
Luke carried the tree to Ryan’s car. “This should fit nicely in the lift back. What do you think, Ryan?”
Ryan opened the hatch.
“Or I’ll bring my Beetle.” She raised one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want to mar the pristine condition of Ryan’s classic car.”
Making it sound like he only cared about his car. When nothing could be further from the truth. He gritted his teeth and helped Luke secure the pot in the hatch.
She rummaged in her shoulder bag. “There wasn’t a tag on the tree, Ryan. How much—?”
“This one’s on the house.” Ryan glowered.
Her lips flattened. “I can pay for my own Christmas tree.”
For inexplicable reasons—he blamed it on pregnancy hormones—she acted like she wanted to pick a fight. And fighting was the last thing he wanted.
He jutted his jaw. “No charge.”
Savages could out-stubborn a Pruitt any day of the week.
He clenched his teeth. “We couldn’t give this tree away.”
Glaring, she turned to his brother. “Luke?” A vein pulsed in her throat.
The shiest of the Savage siblings backed away, both hands raised. “Like Ryan says. You’re doing us a favor.”
She slung the purse strap over her shoulder. She marched toward the passenger side. “Since neither of you think my money is any good, it’s time for me to head home. I’m more tired than I realized.”
That made two of them.
He slammed the lift closed. The car rocked. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Reyes.”
She scowled at him over the roof of the car.
Luke stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It was good to see you home again, Anna.”
“Thank you, Luke.” She glanced at Ryan. “I’m glad someone’s happy I’m home.” And she got into the car without another word.