Christmas at the Tree Farm Read online

  Christmas at the Tree Farm

  Willowdale Series: Book 2

  Maddy Reeves

  B&N Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by Maddy Reeves

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Also by Maddy Reeves

  About the Author

  Introduction

  For the first time in her life, Naomi isn’t looking forward to Christmas. Not after the loss of her beloved father. She buries herself in work and hopes the season passes quickly. It’s a blessing in disguise when the aging owners of Harrison’s Christmas Tree Farm hire her to breathe life into their struggling family business. A change of scenery is just what she needs.

  Clay Harrison can’t believe his parents hired an outsider to revamp the family business. As far as he is concerned, the family farm is perfect the way it is. He doesn’t appreciate all of the changes being made, and he makes sure Naomi knows it. His mood swings give her whiplash, but she’s determined to get the job done no matter how much they clash.

  The longer she stays in Willowdale, the harder it becomes to go home to an empty house, especially with Christmas coming. Clay’s cold heart starts to thaw with the magic of the season, and Naomi discovers they have more in common than she thought.

  Naomi knows this job will end eventually, and they’ll go their separate ways. Will their spark fade when the Christmas lights come down? Or do they have something worth hanging on to?

  Christmas at the Tree Farm is a full-length, stand-alone sweet and clean romance.

  Chapter 1

  The airport is annoyingly crowded for this time of night. Thanks to the unexpected snow, multiple planes have been circling the skies above waiting for the go-ahead to land. Now that I’m finally off the plane, I want nothing more than to get my suitcase and get to my hotel for the night.

  Temperatures are colder than normal for the beginning of November with snow already covering the ground. As always when I’m stressed, sweat rolls down the back of my sweater as I make my way through the throng of people. We’re all moving in a herd on our way to baggage claim. It’s one of many reminders as to why I hate crowds.

  My head is ducked down to avoid any chance of unexpected stranger interaction when a well-loved teddy bear missing an ear drops out of the top of a little boy’s half-unzipped backpack. Without a second thought, I snatch it up and hurry to catch up to him. In this short amount of time, people have already moved between us and I have to do some lithe maneuvering to catch them. His dad holds his hand tightly, at least I assume it’s his dad, moving faster than I thought a person could move when pulling a young child.

  “Wait, little guy!” Between the constant overhead announcements and loud chatter of strangers, the little boy and his dad don’t slow down. I chase after them, clutching my black down parka in my arms, my carry-on bag slung heavily over my shoulder. “Excuse me!” His dad is moving like only a man dressed in a perfectly-tailored suit after a long flight can do. He’s got the focus and determination of a man on his way to a multi-million-dollar deal. “Hey!” I’m so close, I reach out and grab the man’s shoulder.

  He stops and turns around so suddenly, I slide on the smooth floor tiles trying to stop before I crash into him.

  With his face fixed in an intense scowl, he shrugs his shoulder, snapping the side of his jacket tersely. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate being touched. I’m so taken aback by his reaction, I forget why I chased after him in the first place. His hair is light brown, every strand in its correct place. But it’s his eyes that cut through me until I forget my own name. They’re endless moonlight, swimming with a harsh intensity that scares me. In these few short seconds, I wonder how someone who seems so angry can have such stunningly unique eyes.

  He opens his mouth, and I tense, waiting for his harsh words to pierce my already thin skin. Thankfully, the little boy interrupts.

  “Fluffy!” He reaches out and grabs the stuffed animal that’s hanging limp and forgotten in my hand. With the tattered bear clutched to his chest, he smiles up at me with a huge grin.

  His energy is contagious. I forget all about the brooding suit and bend down to his level. “You don’t want to leave this guy behind.” I take the bear’s floppy paw between my fingers and wave it back and forth. “I have a feeling someone wouldn’t be able to go to bed tonight.”

  “I sleep with Fluffy every night.” He pulls him up to the crook of his neck and hugs him even tighter.

  “What do you say?” The man takes the little boy’s hand again and shakes it gently without sparing another look my way. Even though I’ve saved his son from heartache tonight, he can’t be bothered to extend a common courtesy.

  “Thank you,” the boy says.

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, his dad pulls him back around and leads him away. My response dies on my tongue. The sting of his rude behavior settles in my gut but I do my best not to let it bother me. Everyone gets grumpy at the airport, right? Especially tonight when all of the flights are behind schedule.

  I reach the baggage claim area but the luggage from my flight isn’t at one of the carousels yet. Determined to stay out of the crowd, I find a chair tucked away against a wall and open Google on my phone. As I scroll through the results for small businesses in the area, I glance up as the grumpy guy in the suit and the little boy walk past.

  Fluffy is in the boy’s grip, tucked so tightly under his arm that I worry the worn head will fall right off. The man says something to the boy, his face softening. He doesn’t smile, far from it, but the permanent scowl on his face eases when he looks at the boy. I assume he’s the man’s son—unless he’s his grumpy Uncle or something. They look alike, though. After a few moments of debate, I decide they must be related. I don’t know why I’m so curious aside from the fact that the man was so cold…even for a stranger. Normally it wouldn’t bother me so much, but I need kindness in my life right now. It’s the reason I decided to come to this small town right before the holidays. I don’t know what it is that I’m looking for, but I thought I might find something to lift my spirits in this cute town away from all of my worries.

  The brooding stranger pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and mindlessly flips through the screens. With continuous glances toward the rotating belt, his left hand tightly holds the boy’s hand. Annoyance flows from him in waves, but it doesn’t stop me from staring. He’s handsome, but I’d bet my next paycheck he knows it. Still, looking at him is like staring into the star-filled sky—dark and vast with hints of light. My heart softens toward him, slightly, when I see how he’s clinging so tightly to the boy. I’ll give him credit for being a responsible
parent in a busy airport.

  My eyes follow the expertly tailored suit coat from his hand to his face where his neatly-trimmed beard matches the color of his hair. The midnight blue sheen of his suit accentuates his complexion. I’ve just reached the point of being embarrassed at how long I’ve been staring, but before I can turn away, his eyes meet mine. He scowls at me before looking away and I can’t help blush in embarrassment. I roll my eyes and look back down at my phone, doing my best to steady my suddenly erratic breathing.

  A half-hour later, I’m standing at the customer service desk reporting my lost bag, and handing over my contact information so they can call when it’s found. If it’s found. My mood takes a nosedive. It’s not convenient, but I know my clothes can be replaced. Unfortunately, I need to be at the Harrison Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow, and I’ll need something to wear.

  I trudge toward the doors, already wondering how long I’ll have to wait for a cab. There’s a sign that indicates the beginning of the line for a cab, and I’m relieved that I’m the only one there.

  The night is bright, and it’s not just because of the airport lights. The freshly fallen snow sparkles like tiny crystals on the sidewalk, and I’m glad I came prepared with my waterproof boots. The wind is cold against my hot skin, but I welcome it as it clears my mind and cools me for the first time since I left the plane.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve flown, since before my dad got sick. For the past few years, we lived in Rochester, Minnesota, not far from the Mayo Clinic. I drove him to every appointment, and stayed with him when he couldn’t leave. The hospital rooms shrunk in size as his stays grew longer. The walls were closing in on us as I came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to get better.

  Tonight, the moon is covered by the clouds, but it doesn’t stop me from searching for it. No matter what room we occupied in the hospital, I could always spot it outside the window. A bright orb, alone in the night sky—we kept each other company.

  The lights of the cab draw my attention. My eyes are down checking the time when a familiar pair moves into my peripheral. They’re moving fast, the boy struggling to keep up. Before I can react, the man steps in front of me, pulling the cab door open and ushering the little boy inside.

  My mouth drops open, but I’m at a loss for words.

  He glances at me for a split second before shutting the door, his eyes void of any emotion.

  As the cab drives away, I should be angry. Angry enough to pick up a chunk of snow and toss it at the cab’s taillights. Instead, tears prick the corners of my eyes. I’m not used to such obvious, straightforward rudeness. I certainly didn’t expect it here of all places.

  I shake it off and by the time the next cab pulls up, I’m already feeling better knowing I’ll never have to see grumpy suit again.

  Chapter 2

  “How much will it cost me to go the scenic route?” The cab is pleasantly warm when I climb inside first thing the next morning. More snow fell overnight, but the motel cleared the sidewalks and parking lot before my alarm went off. There’s nothing like small-town efficiency to warm the soul.

  “What do you have in mind?” The cab driver is a gray-haired man with a big white beard wearing a wool newsboy driving hat. His thick fisherman’s sweater with a single mahogany button at the top is all he needs to keep himself warm inside the cab all day.

  “I’d love to get a peek at the downtown area, some of the small businesses.”

  “That’s easy enough. I take it you’re new in town.” We’ve already pulled onto the road on our way to Willowdale. The Harrison’s Christmas Tree Farm is about thirty minutes from The Sleepy Hollow, the motel closest to Willowdale, and my home until my job is done.

  “I’m a first timer,” I say before settling in and watching out my window.

  “Business or pleasure?” His eye catches mine in the rearview mirror.

  “Business. I work for a marketing company in Minnesota. Frankie and Ed Harrison hired me.”

  “They’ve got a beautiful place out there, just wait until you see it. My wife and I go there every year for our Christmas tree.”

  “I figured it would be beautiful. Going to a tree farm was a yearly tradition in my family. When I was really young, my dad would actually chop the tree down. Of course, as he got older, we’d choose one of the pre-cut trees. Made it easier on both of us.”

  “My name’s Warren,” he says, chuckling like Santa Claus.

  “Naomi.”

  “Naomi from Minnesota,” he says, “I’ll drive you downtown before heading to the farm.”

  We take a country highway that has thankfully been well plowed. Tall snowbanks line the sides of the street while snow covers the trees, bowing the branches under its weight. The sun is shining brightly today, reflecting off the snow, making me wish I would have thought to bring my sunglasses.

  “The diner downtown has the best food in town,” Warren says. “The wife and I go at least once a week. The tuna melt is amazing. You just tell them Warren sent you and they’ll take good care of you.”

  “A man with some pull. Looks like I got into the right cab today.”

  Warren is what I expected everyone in this town to be like. Thoughts of the grumpy suit cross my mind. In the grand scheme of things, our meeting will become an insignificant moment of time in my life. For now, it still burns that he dismissed me like I was less of a person. That he couldn’t be bothered to offer me a simple thank you for helping his son.

  My dad’s recent death has given me reason to be overly sensitive lately. Some days the loss of him hits me like a sucker punch in the gut. Other days, I can actually catch my breath, and I’m given a glimmer of hope that eventually things will be okay again. Never the same, but a new normal that I can accept.

  A radio station, completely devoted to Christmas songs, plays quietly in the background. Losing a parent is always hard, regardless of the time of year. But there’s something about losing him so close to Christmas that makes the pain in my heart ache that much more.

  As soon as we near the downtown area, I pull out my small notepad and favorite sparkly purple gel pen. You’ll never be able to convince me that writing with a fancy pen isn’t more fun. Not only is it pleasing to the eye, but it helps ignite my creativity and gets the good ideas flowing.

  I jot notes about the names of the shops while Warren fills me in on what I can expect to find inside. Chocolates, home-made crafts, women’s jewelry—all music to my ears. The Harrison’s hired me to boost the profits of their Christmas Tree Farm, and I’ve already found some great ideas for how to do it.

  “The Harrison’s Farm.” Warren turns down the drive completely obscured by trees. That’s when I spot the old wooden sign across the street, pointing the way toward Christmas trees. We reach the top of the driveway and there’s a red shed sitting in the middle of the driveway. No one sits inside yet, but I’m glad to see they have some sort of system in place to welcome guests.

  Warren drives around the circle drive, stopping in front of a gorgeous white farmhouse with a wrap-around porch. We say our good-byes and I eagerly ring the bell, excited to get started on this job. I watch Warren drive away. Only the red of his taillights are visible when I finally hear the click of the lock and the door opens.

  I’m looking down at the little boy who answered the door, his wide grin taking over his face when he recognizes me from the airport.

  I open my mouth, ready to ask him what he’s doing here. Before I can get any words out, the door opens wider and I’m staring into the cold, angry eyes of Mr. Moonlight himself.

  “Can I help you?” His words surprise me, but not as much as seeing him standing in front of me again. Annoyance drips from his fingers as he stands before me, impatiently awaiting my response. His demeanor is intimidating, causing me to forget why I’m here in the first place.

  “Um…hello,” I manage. “I’m looking for Frankie and Ed…Harrison.”

  “They’re expecting you?”

&nb
sp; “Yes, they’re expecting me.” I don’t know this man and I don’t appreciate his attitude. But, I’m not here for him, whoever he is.

  His gaze sharpens. “Mom, Dad…the door is for you.” He steps back pulling the boy with him as an older woman appears before me.

  “You must be Naomi,” she says, motioning for me to step inside. I smile but I’m still shocked from the realization that grumpy suit is their son. It doesn’t help that he’s standing off to the side, brooding while watching my every move. In fact, he watches me so closely that it makes me wonder if he thinks he knows me from somewhere. Maybe our paths crossed years ago and I did something to offend him?

  “Your house is so beautiful.” I step inside, quickly remembering my manners. Delicious smells are wafting from the kitchen, something mouthwatering like cinnamon and apples.

  “We weren’t sure if you’d make it with the storm last night. We heard a lot of flights were delayed.” She glances at her son who obviously filled her in on last night’s travels.

  “Luckily, I made it in one piece. Unfortunately, my luggage did not. You’ll have to excuse my appearance. I’m not as put together as I like to be for a business meeting.”

  Frankie shakes her head and waves away my concern at the same time her son finally speaks again.

  “What business meeting?” he asks.