Page 12 of Under The Meh-stletoe

Not that I had meant to look. It just had been… there. The fact it had turned out to be an attractive sight was secondary.

I took a deep breath, with the intention to anchor myself to the ground again rather than fall prey to whatever my hormones were doing. I failed. A whiff of smell reached me from his jacket and my attention zeroed in on it, wanting more. I bit back a groan; everything seemed to be going sideways during this short outdoorsy adventure.

He didn't wait for my response. He grabbed the ax, swung it a few times to further warm up his muscles, and started on a rant instead.

"It's like everyone else in this town." With no warning, he swung the ax at the trunk in front of him. The whole tree shivered, and so did I. "I chose Laguna Island carefully—" he pulled the ax back and swung it again, letting out a groan— "the state of the town meant great housing options— " he released the ax, huffed, and swung again— "and great long-term affordability."

He repeated the motion, freeing the ax, swinging it again, and grunting. The tree continued to tremble, my legs continued to weaken, and he continued his tirade amid all his hard breathing. Seemed competence porn was a turn on these days for me. I bit my lip and hoped for a reprieve.

"I get to Laguna Island… a shiny new job… that would let me grow roots… while helping strengthen… a better future… for all of us… only to discover… the town is… in worse shape… than I thought."

No reprieve in sight. His wide shoulders, strong chest, and thick thighs made everything worse. The sounds he made went straight to my lower belly; it seemed that an attractive man going full lumberjack had me all hot and bothered. I wasn't pleased about it. I was soooo not interested. So done with grumps!

He kept hacking at the tree in a hypnotizing rhythm. "So who cares…" Grunt. "If I'm a little cranky…" Hard breathing. "Because getting the town in order…" Groan. "It's going to be harder..." Huff. "Than expected."

He straightened and rested the head of the ax on the ground as he took a break, his breathing raspy and labored.

"That feels good." He closed his eyes, his chest working hard. Some color had come to his face, and he lifted it as if to catch a cool breeze. It gave me a view of the white t-shirt he wore under the blue plaid, and the hormones coursing through my blood highlighted how that spot right there would probably smell as good as his jacket, but more intense. I ground my teeth. As soon as I made it back home, I'd set up a timer and meditate for twenty minutes on the many disadvantages of indulging in an infatuation.

"Wanna try it out?" His eyes sparkled, likely due to the exertion. "It'll come down in a couple of hits."

I shook my head. "No way, thanks. I'm ready to go back home."

"Fine." He swung the ax again. "I can use the release."

I could, too, after his grunting and hard breathing. Meditation would have to do.

He warned me about the tree falling. I helped him wrap it in netting for safe transportation, and we huffed in unison while pulling it on the trolley to the truck, before maneuvering it to the bed. He secured it in place with ropes and expert knots. By the time we were done, I was breathless, too.

"You planned to do all of this by yourself?" I panted.

We stood close; he turned to me. He took off the working gloves, put on his jacket, and stared me down.

I lifted an eyebrow. He put a warm forefinger under my chin and aligned my face with his.

He smirked. "Brawny enough for you?"

I swatted his hand away and he laughed. Damn cocky grump.

My weakness.

When I got home, I meditated for a full half hour.

December 1st

Daniel

NightcloakedLagunaIslandon a cold evening, yet a few hundred people congregated in the main town square. Everyone packed close to each other to keep warm, surrounding the main attraction: the lighting of the tree.

I avoided the masses and strode down the street, the tree to one side and the community hall to the other. The event didn't matter to me, but I had to attend as the co-chair. I had to be there in case of emergencies, and for the meeting afterwards. Hence why I was in search of my co-chair.

It had nothing to do with the pesky little spark in me that threatened to light up into a proper little flame. I wasn't worried about that at all. It would go away. If I remembered correctly from some quick research I had done, the learning mechanism I was looking for was called habituation.

Decreasing my response by repeated presentation to the stimulus.

I found Ale standing behind the still-dark tree, chatting with María, one of the other Christmas Committee members. They both nodded in hello as I joined them.

"I can't promise anything," María said, still in conversation with Ale. "My dad is the right age to be Santa; he is the right size… but he doesn't really like to get out of the house."