Oh. I get it. Rub it out. Close to rub one out. Why do guys always have to take things to the sexual level?
“Thank you for the tip,” I snap at him before I start walking, heading for that red building as fast as possible.
“You’re welcome!” he calls after me. “Sorry about staining your jacket!”
Ignoring his third apology, I increase my pace, needing to get away from him. He was cute. Nice. A little crude, but I’m also a bit of a prude right now, so there’s that. I shouldn’t take things so seriously. Not every man I come across is like my ex. I can’t just paint a wide swath and consider all men egotistical assholes.
I know plenty of them are that way, but not all of them.
By the time I’m entering the red building, I’m out of breath and completely overwhelmed by the burst of Christmas that is going on in this place.
It’s a store filled to the very brim with holiday décor, and it is dazzling. No tacky, cheesy Christmas decorations in here. It’s all elegant. Tasteful. Sections of the store are divided into themes and when you first enter the store, the front display has a strong, traditional Christmas vibe. Santa Claus and Rudolph with red and green everywhere.
I might be grumpy and feeling anti-holiday this season, but I can appreciate the beauty that surrounds me. My mother would love this place. I need to bring her here soon.
“Amelia! There are you are!”
I turn to find my friend Candice rushing toward me, a giant grin on her face. She pulls me into an enthusiastic embrace, and I hug her back, suddenly appreciating her sweet nature, the way she makes everyone feel as if they’re automatically loved. “This place is gorgeous,” I tell her when we pull away from each other.
“Isn’t it amazing?” She gazes around the shop with wide-eyed wonder, like it’s the first time she’s ever seen it. “Charlie’s sister Victoria runs it. She does a fabulous job.” Candice leans in closer to me, her voice lowering. “She let me tag along last summer to a wholesale expo where they were showcasing all the upcoming holiday décor, and it was amazing. I was beside myself, helping her choose items for the store.”
“I can only imagine,” I tell her with a genuine smile. Wow, can’t remember the last time I flashed one of those.
“So!” Candice claps her hands together, her expression eager. “You need a tree for your jewelry store.”
“Yes, we do. Do you already have something picked out for me?” I ask hopefully. Not really looking forward to walking through endless rows of trees searching for the perfect one.
“After I spoke with your mother, I talked to Charlie about it and he had some of his employees gather up a few options for you. I told him what you were looking for, and I’m positive one of the trees he chose will work. Come on, let’s go out back.”
I follow her through the store, my gaze busy, not sure where to look next. It keeps bouncing from beautiful item to beautiful item. The scent of cranberries mixed with spice drifts in the air, and there’s soft, jazzy holiday music playing in the background. Whereas outside is Christmas in your face, in the store it’s much more subtle. Downright soothing.
We exit through a side door and she takes me to a spot where a few cut trees are leaning against a low, wooden fence. “He didn’t cut all of these specifically for me, did he?” I ask, worried that I killed too many trees for no good reason.
“Not at all. These trees are going to one of the lots in Monterey, and we pulled these ones aside just for you. They were the best ones, according to Charlie.” Candice smiles. “He knows his trees.”
“I’m sure he does,” I murmur as I contemplate my choices. They’re all beautiful. But there’s one that’s very tall and extra fluffy, and it snagged my heart from the moment I set eyes on it.
“I want that one.” I point toward the fluffy one.
“Really? That’s my favorite one too! Okay, I’ll let him know and they’ll deliver it to the store later this afternoon,” Candice says. “Does that work for your schedule? Will you still be at the store?”
“Yes, I will,” I answer, trying to sound pleasant. As if there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Truly? I’d prefer to be in bed, hidden under the covers, watching a sappy romantic movie on Netflix and letting myself cry yet again for my lost relationship. The lost years I devoted to it.
Oh yes, and drowning my sorrows and depression in ice cream. Trying my best not to focus on the good memories I have with he who shall not be named.
When you think about the good stuff, you forget about the bad. And I can’t do that.
No matter how much I want to.
Two
Isaac
“I think I pissed off a customer,” I say to my boss, Charlie Sullivan. He’s the oldest son of the Sullivan family, and the one who runs the tree farm. I’ve worked for him for three years, and while he can be a giant prick when he wants, he’s also a great boss. Fair. He’ll work you hard and always compliment you when you do a good job. The pay’s good too.
This isn’t my life’s work, though. I’m only twenty-one. Got this job straight out of high school, been thinking about going to college and get a degree in something, but what? I don’t know.
That’s my problem. I’m young and I have my whole life before me, according to my parents, but I can’t figure out what I want to do. I almost envy Charlie and his business. He had no choice from the time he was young. He’s a Sullivan, the oldest. He’s known since he was a kid that he would run this place someday.
And here I am with no goals, no structure. I just…live. Day by day. Week by week.
“What did you do?” Charlie asks with a grunt as he tosses a bound tree onto the back of the truck. That’s another thing I respect about our boss. He has no issues with working right along beside us. He gets his hands dirty, just like we do.
“This very attractive woman was walking extra fast toward the store and she bumped right into me. Wasn’t even lookin’ where she was goin’.” I shake my head, hoping like hell I don’t make Charlie mad with this next confession. “I grabbed hold of her arms so she wouldn’t fall, and my sap-covered gloves stuck to her fancy denim jacket.”
“She was wearing a fancy denim jacket?” Charlie appears to have no comprehension of what I’m talking about.
I’m not wealthy by any means, but I’ve grown up in this area. I know money when I see it, and that woman looked like money. Classy. Gorgeous. Sleek black hair and dark brown eyes that glared at me when I said rub it out and then laughed.
That look on her face had immediately made me feel like a jerk. I apologized to her multiple times, but I don’t think it mattered.
I made her mad. Hell, I might’ve even disgusted her.
“The jacket looked like it cost a lot of money,” I clarify. “And now I stained it with sap. I’m sure she was pissed.”
“Did she act like she was pissed?” Charlie asks.
Should I mention the rub it out comment? I decide not to. “A little irritated, yeah. She stormed off toward the store, like she was in a hurry.”