Chapter 2

Tom

“ M ove in with you? We haven’t even been on a date yet,” Kyrsten blurts out, the moment I suggest it. Her hand flies to her mouth and clamps over it. That adorable blush I noticed when she rose from under the table is back.

“You didn’t let me finish.” I sit back and watch her. She’s cute in a girl-next-door kind of way. My soon-to-be-ex-neighbor looks nothing like my definitely-ex-fiancée and that’s fine by me.

Krysten lowers her hand but doesn’t say a word.

“I propose that you move in with me through the first of the year. You’re welcome to stay longer if you need more time finding your own place.”

Her mouth opens. I hold up my hand. I need to get this whole crazy idea out before I answer any more questions or risk having her run out on me. Apparently, that’s a thing with me and women now. I push any thoughts of Mindy aside and grasp for my train of thought.

“In exchange, I want you to pretend to be my wife. No funny business, of course. You’ll have your own bedroom and stuff.” I scan her face to see how she’s taken this so far. She’s confused but curious or desperate enough to at least hear me out.

“All I need you to do is help me decorate the house for Christmas and throw a dinner party for my boss and his wife and pretend to be married to me for the evening. There might be a kiss to sell the whole marriage thing, but that’s it.”

“Okay.” She didn’t back off at the mention of the kiss, and it does something to me. Not that I’m ready to think about anyone that way. Probably not ever again. “Why?” she asks.

“Why what?” I play dumb.

“Why do you need a wife so desperately that you’re willing to offer me a place to stay?” she asks.

“Free room and board,” I clarify. “It’s a long story, but the gist of it is that I’m up for a big promotion at work, and my boss thinks I’m married. I’d like to keep up that illusion until I have it. He’s pretty old-fashioned.”

“That’s a little deceptive, isn’t it?” Krysten asks.

“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds.” I sigh. “It didn’t work out, and I never cleared that up at work. I’d rather not have to fess up until after I have the position.” The truth was that I’d been too embarrassed to admit I’d called it off. Instead, I’d hidden out at home for the week I was supposed to be away on my honeymoon and then gone into work accepting congratulations and left it at that.

“To clarify, I help get your house ready for Christmas, host a party, pretend to be your wife during said party, and I have a place to stay until I find something of my own?” she asks.

“That’s basically it.” I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something she’s hiding. Maybe she’s not great at interior design, or the thought of having to kiss me bothers her more than she lets on. Maybe I read the situation wrong. “If you don’t want to?—”

“I do. You have a deal.” She holds out her hand, and I shake it. My boss invited himself and his wife over for Friday night, and I don’t have the time to be choosy. I’ll deal with whatever Krysten is hiding if it becomes a problem.

“This place is as stunning inside as it is outside,” Krysten says halfway through the tour of the place.

“Thanks.” The house is my pride and joy. Restoring it and turning it into the sanctuary it is today is what kept me sane in the months after the wedding disaster. But according to my sister, I need a little help brightening the place up. And I haven’t been in the mood to put up a tree or anything else remotely Christmassy.

“Where do I stay?” she asks, spinning around in the hall when I point to the door that leads to the guest room.

“Over here.” I open the door and motion for her to enter the room. It mirrors my bedroom with a similar ensuite bathroom. The only reason I’d chosen the other room was the view. This one overlooked the street, while my room had a view of the walled garden that’s the true gem of this place. Especially when the plants wake from their winter slumber.

“It has a fireplace,” Krysten’s voice rises, and she crouches down to peek into it, practically disappearing into the space.

“It works too. I’ll bring some wood up once we get your stuff moved in. If you’re still game.” I hold my breath and wait for her to turn around.

When she does, she has a small soot smudge on her nose. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.” Her eyes spark like the flames that will flicker in the fireplace tonight.

It doesn’t take us long to move her meager belongings from her place to mine.

“We can stick these boxes in the garage if it isn’t stuff you need. Same goes for any furniture you want to keep.” I put the box I’m carrying down in the entryway.

“There’s nothing worth keeping, aside from my plants. Garage works for the books in these as long as it’s dry and critter-free.”

Two trips later and enough green plants to fill a small greenhouse, and she’s moved in.

I’m dead on my feet. The boost of energy the chai latte gave me is long gone.

“Hungry?” I ask when we’ve found a spot for the last of the plants. Who knew they could be so needy? Some required full sunlight for at least six hours a day, while others preferred indirect light. Others yet needed a humid environment and were now staying on a small shelf in her bathroom. I’d promised to find something wider for them to sit on tomorrow.

“Starving. Do you want me to fix you a sandwich or something?” she asks, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “I just happen to be the world’s best sandwich maker.”

I shake my head. “How about pizza?”

By the time the delivery guy shows up, we’re both ravenous.

I grab paper plates, and Krysten serves us each a slice piled high with every type of meat the pizza place downtown has to offer.

“The first thing you need is a Christmas tree,” Krysten says, digging into her food and washing it down with a glass of water.

“Right. I hope they’re not completely sold out.” Christmas is still a week away, but most people snatched theirs up in early December or sooner.

“The lot down by the shopping center still had a few left earlier today when I drove by. They might still be open.” She glances at her phone.

“I guess we should go grab it while we have the chance.” I shove the rest of my pizza in my mouth and wipe my hands on a napkin.

We get lucky and come back with a decent tree and a whole bag of ornaments and lights Krysten insisted we’d need when we stopped for a tree stand on the way back.

“Ready to set this up?” she asks, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Let’s do it.” I’m surprised by how much fun I’m having. The thought of decorating the house had seemed like such a chore, but Krysten’s excitement is rubbing off on me.

“Alright, step one. Let’s get this tree into the stand.” She pulls the forest-green metal contraption from the box and puts it together.

Getting our five-foot Douglas fir into it is another story. “Watch out.” A branch slaps across my face, the scent of the tree engulfing me, along with the sticky substance that covers both of my hands.

“Sorry. Let me just nudge this a little farther back ...”

Thirty minutes later, we finally have the tree in place, and after some trial and error, it passes Kyrsten’s inspection.

She takes a few steps back and nods. “That looks pretty straight to me. What do you think? Once we fill these spots with a few extra ornaments, get the lights up ...”

I stop listening and simply nod my agreement. I thought it looked fine twenty-five minutes ago.

“Alright, next step, the lights. This year will be easy. We won’t have to worry about tangled cords or burnout light bulbs,” she says, the serious look on her face making me smile.

I think back on the many times in my childhood when Dad had spent long hours and plenty of expletives muttered under his breath that had Mom pulling us out of the living room.

“Why don’t you go make us some hot chocolate and turn on some Christmas music while I get these strung up?” I ask, holding up the two boxes of clear LED lights we bought at the craft store on the way home. “Pantry—top shelf on the right, and the stereo is over there.”

“You’ve got it.” Krysten skips off to the kitchen, and before long, the microwave beeps and Christmas tunes play from her phone.

“Thanks.” I take the white mug from her. The hot chocolate isn’t bad, and she made it with milk instead of water, which gets her instant bonus points. I can overlook the fact that it’s still cold in spots. It takes a while to get used to a new kitchen and its appliances.

“Ready for the ornaments?” she asks as “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree ” starts to play.

I watch her dance over to the bag that holds the rest of our purchases. She pulls ornaments out of it and hands a couple of them to me before continuing her dance, looking up at the tree, deciding on the perfect spot, before changing her mind after hanging it there.

I stand back and watch her.

Krysten looks over her shoulder, eyes still blazing with excitement. “What are you waiting for? Those ornaments aren’t going to hang themselves.”

I laugh, put down my lukewarm cocoa and hang the penguins dressed in Santa hats and scarfs. “How’s this?”

Krysten steps back and looks at the tree critically. She moves one of the penguins and returns to her spot. “That works. Let’s see what else we’ve got.”

I’m surprised how much I’m enjoying myself as we slowly, but surely fill the tree and somehow manage to fit everything she’s picked on it.

I reach for the bag the same moment she does to grab the last of the ornaments. Our fingers touch and it’s the most amazing feeling. An instant connection that has my heart rate speeding up. I haven’t had a reaction this strong in … well… ever. I pull back my hand, surprised there’s no visible evidence of sparks flying. “After you.”

Krysten grows quiet, the rosy blush back in her cheeks. I watch her hang the last red glass globe before stepping back to inspect our work.

“Not bad,” she says after moving a few things around.

“I think it’s amazing.” And I’m not just talking about the tree.

“Hardly. I can’t believe I forgot the tree topper. I’ll go back first thing in the morning. What do you think? Star or angel?” she asks, turning and almost bumping into my chest.

My mind goes blank, and I realize I’m in trouble. Finding myself attracted to my make-believe wife was not part of the plan.