Page 11 of Under The Meh-stletoe

Despite growing up in Laguna Island and living here for the first twenty years of my life, I had never been up this road before.

Daniel parked the very end of a path. I followed him through a trail I couldn't see, surrounded by old trees; a patchwork of moss and old growth spotted the ground and wrinkly trunks. The smell of it was glorious and I filled my lungs with it. I'd missed it while in the City, nearly as much as I'd missed the ocean. Not because I was too far from it or couldn't come visit, but because it meant so much to me. It hit different at home.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay in the truck?" Daniel asked. He carried gloves and an ax. "It's warm there."

"I don't mind the cold, but I mind having to stay there alone. What if I get abducted by aliens? You'd be tried for murder, sir."

One of my boots slid in a mix of mud and wet leaves, but I didn't mind. At least I wouldn't get creeped out by having no one around and no phone signal. Having to pull the arborist dolly behind me was a minor inconvenience.

"Maybe you're too used to city living," Daniel said.

"Yeah, I got used to it. Sue me. But I still remember all of this." I sighed. "I still love it. Though I wouldn't have come back yet, if it weren't for Ren's accident."

We reached a clearing where perhaps a hundred pine trees in different stages of growth lined up in perfect rows, evenly distributed.

"Daniel Cabrera. Did you do this?"

I had learned in the past couple of weeks that he'd been hired as the Public Works Director, and as such he'd focused on all sort of projects to better the town. Many of the trees looked too big for his influence after only a year, but the amazement escaped me anyway. Perhaps he was that good.

He snorted. "No. This was one of the few great ideas my predecessor had. I just get to reap the rewards."

He stopped by a nicely shaped pine tree, probably over fifteen feet high. He dropped the ax to the ground and inspected the trunk. I stayed several steps away.

"I heard about her accident," he added. "Impossible not to, in a small town. I'm glad she's okay."

"Me, too. I wish she were feeling better, both for her sake and mine— then she'd be the one helping you out. She'd be much better than I am."

It was cold. Our breaths turned into vapor with each word we uttered. He looked up to the tip of the pine tree, and my eyes kept on going up the sightline. Clouds still covered the sky, but it didn't look like rain.

"You're doing fine." He studied the canopy. "Just up the cranky and we'll be perfect."

I spluttered. "What cranky?"

He slapped the trunk of the tree for a mysterious reason. He stole a glance at me. "Fine. Let's call it snark."

I wanted to be offended. Even if he was right. Never mind the fact I had just suggested he might be tried for murder.

I crossed my arms. "You mean the sarcasm? Or the humor I add to my words? You know how to recognize humor, right?"

Sure, if I were a better person, I'd admit sarcasm only made ten percent of my comments, and that I tended to joke things away, so we didn't have to go too deep into anything. But that was absolutely beside the point. I just didn't want him to call it crankiness.

I must have made a gesture with my face because he chuckled. It was a dark sound. He cleared a few of the lower branches with quick and precise swings of the ax.

"I have a list and checked it twice, Ale. Every time we’ve met, I’ve seen a pesky little spark in your eyes. You call it sarcasm; I call itan attitude."

"Har har." I ignored the fact it sounded like he’d been paying attention to my eyes. "What if the snark is just my attitude around you? Maybe I’m a ray of sunshine with everyone else."

"Maybe it's me, you mean?" He dropped the ax on the ground again and strolled to me, casual as he unzipped his jacket. My logical mind must have been too busy keeping track of the bickering to stop my body from reacting, because the sight caught my breath. My eyes followed his hand as he pulled the tab down, the sound of tiny metal teeth unclasping filling the space between us.

My face warmed. He took off his jacket. I gulped. His buttoned-up shirt was plaid, of fucking course, in shades of blue and green. It made his dark hair stand out and it showcased the shape of him. The triangle of his torso, and the cutest little tummy. Cuddling him would feel cozy in all the best ways. Not that I would consider cuddling with him. Or anyone, really.

He stared at me, challenging, and with another tiny smirk on his lips. "I don't know. Somehow, I doubt it. I'd bet you're snarky with everyone."

He pushed his jacket toward me; I pursed my lips and took it. We held each other's eyes as he warmed up muscles and joints. He moved his arms and shoulders in wide circles, and lifted his legs in high marching motions. He finally twisted at the waist a few times, all the while sporting a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

"Apparently I'm not the only one capable of snark," I said.

"Isn't it interesting, how many people confuse it with being a grump?" He went back to the tree and put on the working gloves he'd dropped to the ground, giving me a nice view of his ass.