Chapter Seventeen

Jen

 

After shopping, we went to dinner at a steakhouse. Lately, my appetite was really kicking in at night, so I didn’t shy away from a hearty meal. Despite the cold, it was a lovely night, the clear sky full of stars visible even with all the Christmas lights throughout town.

Which reminded me…

“Your house is missing something,” I said when we returned.

“A heated garage.”

“Well, sure, but no—decorations! It’s mid-December and you have no lights.”

Dylan killed the truck engine. “I’m not letting you on a ladder now.”

“Don’t be silly. But you have to have stuff stored away, right? We can spread a little cheer inside and do the outside tomorrow morning.”

His head tilted toward me. “That’s really what you want?”

“Don’t you?” I asked simply.

“Okay.” He opened his door. “There’s a storage shed in back.” He hurried around to help me down onto the crunchy snow, then we went inside. “I’ll probably have to shovel a bit to swing that door open.” He continued into the laundry room where the tools were stored.

It was my first time on the back deck. We’d gotten distracted from a full tour of every aspect of the cabin. Like the front, the roof overhung part of the deck to shelter the doors, but the space expanded beyond that to make room for a hot tub and picnic table. The stairs down onto the yard were on the left side and there was just enough moonlight to see the shadow of a shed under a towering Ponderosa Pine.

“Do you back onto protected forest?” I hated seeing a lot for sale that then had all its trees cleared the next time you drove by.

“Yeah. No one’s ever building back here,” he replied, carrying the shovel to the shed. Tucked under the tree, snow had fallen on it in sporadic patches, but there was a bit of build-up in front of the door.

“How much is yours?”

He picked at the snow and ice. “Around a quarter acre.”

I whistled. “And a flat lot. Your parents lucked out.” My house sat on around a tenth and the backyard sloped away from the house, so the previous owners never bothered with a deck. There was enough of a cleared yard here for kicking a ball around or having a party.

He unlocked the shed door and tugged on it with a grunt. “Success.”

I came down as a light turned on. “It’s wired for power?”

“Nah. Stick-on LED lights.” He pointed at one of those disks I’d seen on an infomercial.

I expected piles of cardboard boxes, but there were only neat stacks of hardy plastic tubs. Except for some tall bumpy shape in the back. “What’s that?”

“Christmas tree,” he replied, looking at lid labels. “Ah-ha!”

“There’s been a tree lot within ten minutes of here for years and you have an artificial tree?” I couldn’t imagine not having the scent of a fresh Noble fir in December.

“Indoor lights and outdoor lights.” He set those tubs at the threshold. “Mom didn’t like all the needle drop.”

“Why didn’t she take that with her, then?”

“They wanted to start fresh in Florida. Gave away the winter clothes and left with not much more than a few mementos.”

Geeze. That had to look so final. “I’m sorry.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Why?”

“Leaving everything but their clothes, it sounds like they deserted you.”

He paused the rummaging. “If we were closer, yeah. I probably would’ve thought that. But I wasn’t alone. The guys are my brothers. Jake’s dad died when he was little, Bob’s parents are mad he didn’t stay in the family construction business, Mikey had to deal with Brian being the favorite until this summer, and Aaron grew up in the foster system. We all have baggage, but we navigated life as a team. I’m not in the habit of decorating the cabin or my apartment for Christmas because if we’re in L.A., we’re at Jake’s house. The only reason we never lived in some big mansion together is being cramped on a tour bus and airplanes is enough close-proximity time as it is and Lynn would have a fit over all the bruises.”

I could just see the headlines if they appeared on stage with black eyes and busted lips. “But the family has expanded.”

He smiled. “And we’re okay with that.”

I socked his arm. “Better be. What are you looking for?”

“This.” He picked up another tub. “Let’s get inside before you’re a Jen-cicle.”

In the laundry room, he left the outdoor lights box on the washing machine and continued into the house with the other two, placing them on the coffee table. The other tub was labeled mantel. Curious at the vague description, I popped the lid off, only to see bundles wrapped in packing paper. He plucked one out and unraveled the package.

“Oh!” I did so with another. “This is a Christmas village!”

He moved to remove the photo frames currently on the mantel. “You sound really excited about that.” They went into the storage cabinet of a little end table in the corner.

We shed our coats and he hung them on the rack by the door.

“I’ve always thought these little village scenes were so cute. My school best friend, her mom did this whole thing around their living room of Lemax everything. She had every collectible Christmas building they put out set up on fake snow with those bottle brush trees and little figurines…it was epic. A Nativity scene on a mantel is beautiful, but you can’t deny the charm of the village.”

“Does my girl have an inner middle-aged single mom inside her?”

I slapped his arm. “Shut up!” He cackled.

Dylan was so damn handsome when he was happy. Every look on him was hot, but it was the smile that went up to his blue eyes that gave me fuzzy, gooey feelings. I loved seeing the sparkle I caused. Catching me taking him in, he kissed me. Mmm…

“What’s buzzing through your head?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I love you.”

The smile turned grateful. “I love you, too.”

We unwrapped all of the set and found white felt folded at the bottom—the snow. I arranged the fabric on the mantel, bunching it here and there.

“This seems like a cocoa situation,” he said.

“Sure.” And I didn’t mind placing the village myself.

The church with the tall steeple went in the center, then I flanked it with a candy shop, a toy shop, an auto repair garage, a mercantile, a Victorian-ish house, and the town Christmas tree.

“Did your mom collect these over time?”

“Yep.” He took two hot mugs out of the microwave. “Not bad, babe.”

“It’s an eclectic set, but I tried.” I carefully sipped the cocoa he handed me. “Mmm.” Then broke into the lights box. “Are these just meant for the tree?”

“I guess,” he said from the sofa. “Originally.”

I arched a brow. “Dude, you are sorely out of practice.”

“Sit.” He grabbed my hips and hauled me down. “Let’s watch a movie. We’re supposed to relax up here before the wedding craziness.”

“You’re right…” But one of us had to get up to put a disc in. I kissed his cheek, then went to the cabinet next to the fireplace. With the flat-screen TV above it, all the wiring led here. “Do you have Christmas movies?”

“Die Hard.”

I shot him a look.

“What? It takes place at Christmas.”

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie.” I ran my finger over his titles as I read them.

He turned on the TV and pressed buttons on the remote. “I don’t have any of the classics you do. We’ll find something on cable.”

“I’m going to visit the bathroom first.”

The hall bathroom was basic ‘90s, with a while tub-shower insert and builder-grade granite on the vanity. No window, so it needed the light overhead, which at least wasn’t fluorescent. I chuckled at a speck of glitter on my cheek, rubbed it off, and served the call of my bladder. If it was this frequent now, I didn’t want to think about when a baby would be leaning on it all the time. Then washed my hands.

When I left the bathroom, I took a peek in the other bedroom.

“Did you fall in?” Dylan called. “What are you doing?”

“Snooping.” I soon heard his footsteps on the hardwood.

The bedroom used to be his room, so I wondered if there were remnants of his childhood in here—but nothing at first glance. Log walls, rustic double bed, a nightstand, a lamp, and a closet. I opened door number one.

“Did it look like this when you were growing up?” The rack in the closet was empty, but there were some boxes on a shelf above.

“I’ve got a movie queued up.”

I closed the door. “What did you pick?”

“Stop dilly-dallying and come see.”