Christmas Crasher: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Road Trip to Love) Page 3

  "Thanks," Lola said, "but I'd love to help out if I can."

  The words were music to Eric's ears. Maybe he wouldn't have to do it all by himself, after all.

  Lola loved the barn. Giant floor heaters kept it warm and cozy and all the pre-cut trees made the barn smell like a pine forest.

  Unfortunately, her project was not going well.

  Frustrated, she slammed the wreath frame onto the workbench. Eric had shown her how to attach the greenery to the frame with floral wire, but she couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. She'd asked him for detailed instructions, planning to write them down, step by step—oh, how she loved checklists! But he'd refused to find her a pad of paper, assuring her it wouldn’t be necessary.

  Lola disagreed. As far as she was concerned, every task should come with instructions.

  Eric walked into the room, taking a seat across the table. He gazed at her with his beautiful green eyes, his forehead wrinkling in concern. "Something wrong?"

  Lola put her face in her hands and groaned. "I'm not good at this."

  Eric picked up her wreath and inspected it. "Looks great to me."

  She lifted her head to glare at him. "You've got to be kidding, Eric. None of my branches are uniform in size, they're sticking up all over the place, and look at the pinecones! They're a disaster."

  Eric grinned. "There's no such thing as a pinecone disaster." He handed the wreath back to her. "It's supposed to look handcrafted. That's the appeal."

  She grabbed the floral wire and started again. "You're a patient teacher."

  Eric shrugged. "You have to be, to work with middle schoolers."

  Lola was surprised. "You're a middle school teacher?"

  The smile faded from Eric's face. "I taught earth science until this year."

  "What happened?"

  "My parents died," he said quietly. "It was planting season, so there was a lot of work to be done. And I didn't really want to be around people, so it made sense to leave my job and sell my house. I moved in here so I could take care of the farm full time."

  Lola resisted the urge to reach out and grab his hand. "Were you just too sad to be around people?"

  "Too angry." He looked away. "Can we please change the subject?"

  Lola was desperate to know why he was angry—and both his parents had died? How?—but it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. So, she nodded in agreement.

  Eric cleared his throat. "So, what do you do for a living?"

  "I'm a doctor," she answered automatically, remembering a split second too late that it was the last thing she wanted to talk about. She scrambled to think of a way to amend her response. "Of candy canes."

  Eric raised an eyebrow. "A doctor of candy canes?"

  Lola pasted a smile on her face and held up a candy cane that had been resting atop a pile of wreath decorations. "You know…because they're always broken."

  The corner of Eric's mouth kicked up. "Oh, so you've got Christmas jokes, huh? The customers will love that."

  When Eric smiled, his whole body seemed to light up. It was the only time he didn't look…haunted. And like an elixir with restorative properties, his smile also had the power to make Lola forget her own problems.

  Perhaps totaling her car wasn't such a bad thing, after all. Being stranded at Jolly Trees Farm may just be the best thing that could have happened to her.

  Chapter 7

  Tapping his foot in time to a Christmas song, Eric watched Lola scrunch her face in concentration. She seemed to think tree decorating required surgical precision, painstakingly hanging each ornament, careful to space them an equal distance from each other—even on the back where they couldn't be seen.

  They'd spent the past two days making wreaths and adding decorations around the farm. Lola had been a tremendous help and Eric enjoyed her company. His face was actually sore from all the smiling he'd been doing. He just wished she could relax and enjoy herself more.

  An ornament he made in the third grade dangled from her forefinger. She'd moved it three times already. "I just can't find the right place for this."

  "It doesn't matter where you hang it," Eric said gently. "It's a Christmas tree, not a mathematical equation. There are no wrong answers here."

  Lola looked at him like he had three heads.

  He lifted the ornament from her finger. Their hands brushed and Eric had to fight the urge to entwine his fingers with hers. The more time he spent with her, the harder it was becoming not to touch her. He hung the ornament on the tree. "It's fine right here."

  Lola stepped back and eyed the tree critically. She shook her head, "No, it's too close to Santa's sleigh." She plucked it off the tree again.

  Eric groaned. "You're the sort of person who goes to Christmas parties and moves people's ornaments around, aren't you?"

  Lola's pale face turned pink.

  Eric laughed. "I knew it!"

  "Shut up," she said, punching his arm.

  The playful contact made his stomach twist. He felt himself coming alive again, and he had this neurotic woman to thank for it.

  "You're overthinking it," he said. "Just have fun."

  A scowl line creased Lola's forehead. "I am having fun," she muttered.

  He shook his head. "I bet your parents wanted to rip their hair out waiting for you to hang the ornaments when you were a kid."

  Lola's whole body stiffened and Eric immediately wanted to take the statement back. "I'm sorry, Lola. I was just teasing."

  Her big blue eyes met his. "Not all of us were lucky enough to grow up on a Christmas tree farm in a two-parent household."

  Her tone wasn't judgmental, but it gutted Eric. He'd been teaching long enough to know just how lucky he'd been. He shouldn't have been so careless with his words.

  She sighed. "I was bounced around the foster care system most of my childhood. Sometimes the foster homes didn’t even have Christmas trees. When they did, I didn't do any of the decorating. I thought it was better to be invisible."

  "What do you mean?"

  "They say the squeaky wheel gets the grease? That never made sense to me. No one likes the squeaky wheel. So I thought if I was just good enough, and never got in trouble, someone would want to keep me."

  Eric inhaled sharply. No child should ever have to feel that way. And some of those insecurities had clearly followed her into adulthood, since she now found it impossible to hang an ornament without worrying about its placement.

  "You don’t have family?" he asked gently.

  Lola's face lit up. "I do. An older brother. He didn't come into my life until I was sixteen, but he fought for custody of me. He's married and has two beautiful kids. I went from having no family to being Aunt Lola."

  Eric was happy Lola wasn't alone. He didn’t have siblings, or aunts and uncles, or any relatives at all. He'd only had his parents. Now, he had no family.

  And in a few days, Lola would leave him too.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, Lola woke to the sound of a mixer whirring. She made her way to the kitchen and froze in the doorway in disbelief. It looked like a war zone. Dishes lay discarded everywhere. The surfaces were covered in flour. In the middle of it all stood Eric and Princess. They too were covered in flour, both looking like old men with dusty white beards.

  Lola tried not to laugh. "Everything okay in here?"

  Eric wiped his hands on an apron that said, "Kiss the Cook." Lola found herself wanting to do just that. He looked adorably confused, as though he had no clue what had happened to the kitchen.

  "My mom always baked the treats," he said. "The task falls to me this year."

  Lola grinned. "Well, here's a tip: the flour goes in the bowl…not on the baker and the dog."

  Eric sighed. "It's hopeless."

  "No, it's not. I'll help you."

  His face brightened. "You know how to bake?"

  "Of course. I'm a doctor of candy canes, remember? I've trained for this." She took a look around the kitchen. "First, let'
s clean up so I can see what we have to work with."

  For the next hour, they scrubbed the kitchen. Eric explained that he'd found his mom's grocery list from last year and had just purchased the same items. Lola did a little shimmy and shake when she saw the bonbon molds. She quickly scanned the ingredients to see if she had everything she needed, and was pleased to see she did. There was even cocoa butter and oil-based food coloring, so she could make chocolate paint for an extra-special touch.

  Lola showed Eric how to temper chocolate. "This isn't like wreath-making," she explained. "You have to follow the rules precisely. Otherwise, your chocolate will curdle."

  "How did you learn to do this?"

  "One of my foster moms taught me."

  Amy had been a single woman in her forties. She had loved to make sweet treats and taught Lola how to make everything from bonbons to layered cakes. For a couple years, things were great. Lola felt like Amy's house was her home. She'd even felt loved. But everything changed when Amy started dating a man who didn’t want kids. Lola had been heartbroken.

  Eric wrapped his arms around her from behind, hugging her tight. Lola melted against him, leaning into the hug, pressing her back against his hard chest.

  "I'm sorry." His voice was soft in her ear.

  Time seemed to freeze and Lola temporarily forgot how to stir. "It's okay. I have my brother now."

  But she didn’t want to think about Lance, either. By now, he'd have heard that she walked out of rounds.

  He had to be so disappointed in her. How could she do that after he'd sacrificed so much so she could go to medical school? Tears pricked the backs of Lola's eyelids but she didn't let them fall.

  Instead, she focused on the feeling of Eric's strong arms around her and the heat of his skin on hers.

  Yes, Eric was an elixir. And in his arms, she was safe. Even from herself.

  Eric held one of Lola's chocolates in his hand, amazed that she could make something that was not only delicious but a work of art. When he told her so, she shook her head.

  "Art requires creativity," she said. "I've never been creative. I'm just good at following the rules."

  Eric stared at her in disbelief. "You literally painted the bonbon molds with chocolate paint that you made yourself."

  She shrugged. "Anyone can do that."

  "No." He held a chocolate in front of her face. "Look at this, Lola. Really, look at it. It's beautiful. It's art."

  How could she not see how much talent and skill she possessed? He suddenly felt a primal desire to hunt down everyone who had ever made her feel like she wasn't good enough and beat them within an inch of their lives.

  He sat the chocolate on the counter and cupped her face with his palms. He stared into her big blue eyes, hoping she'd be able to see herself reflected in his own. "You are a work of art, Lola Blakeman. One of a kind. Priceless." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Do you hear me?"

  "I hear you," she whispered.

  Eric lifted her chin, lightly brushing her lips with his. The kiss was tentative and sweet, mending Eric's battered soul. Lola was goodness and light.

  And she tasted like chocolate.

  Chapter 9

  There was only one more day before the farm opened for the season. But Eric and Lola had managed to get everything finished. The farm looked beautiful, and pre-cut trees, wreaths, and greenery were available for sale. The carts and saws were ready for the customers who wanted to cut their own trees. And thanks to Lola's skills in the kitchen, there were plenty of tasty treats, too.

  The only thing he still needed to do was plow the snow from the driveway. So, why did he feel so sick?

  Because you abandoned everyone and you're afraid they've abandoned you too.

  Eric buried his face in his hands. He'd cut himself off from the town and become a hermit. He had avoided speaking with any of his old friends or colleagues. He responded to cards his students sent him, but only with a pre-printed thank-you note. He hadn't personalized any of them. He just couldn't at the time. It was too hard. He was so angry. Even now, the only thing keeping the anger from boiling over was Lola.

  He found her in the living room, rearranging ornaments on the tree. He quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

  "It's a mental illness. Accept it or ignore it."

  Eric suddenly had an idea. "Have you ever cut down your own Christmas tree?"

  "Nope. I've only had plastic trees."

  Eric groaned, clutching his chest. "You wound me. The real thing is so much better."

  A smile danced on her lips. "Once you go real, you never go back?"

  "I wish. But people love convenience. And it doesn't get more convenient than a pre-lit artificial tree. Every year, it seems fewer people are buying real trees." He sighed. "I'm actually really worried no one will show tomorrow."

  Her forehead crinkled. "Why would you think that?"

  He shook his head. "We'll talk about it later, I promise. But right now, let's go get you a tree."

  Eric told Lola her mission was to find the perfect Christmas tree, but it was an impossible task. Because she couldn't pull her gaze away from him. He walked through the trees with such ease, running a hand along each tree. It was like he was greeting them as an old friend. When Lola said so, he smiled.

  "It's true," he said. "I've known these trees for years." He pointed to their right. "Take that row of white pines, for instance. I helped plant those trees twelve years ago."

  "Twelve years?" Lola hadn't realized that more time went into growing a Christmas tree than becoming a qualified surgeon. And Eric's personal connection to these trees was far more personal than any connection she'd ever shared with a patient.

  "Did you think trees grew overnight?" His voice was light and teasing. He reached out for her hand, threading her fingers with his.

  Even though they both wore gloves, the physical connection made Lola's heart skip a beat.

  She looked up at Eric's face. He looked happy as he walked through the grounds. His shoulders were relaxed and his eyes sparkled with merriment. It was a complete transformation from the man she'd met that first day.

  As she was thinking of how different he was now, she spotted the perfect tree over his shoulder. Her face broke into a grin.

  "That one, Eric," she exclaimed. "That's my tree."

  He grinned. "Let's check it out." He led her by the hand to the tree, pulling her with him as he circled it, inspecting it from every angle. "I do believe this is the perfect tree. Slip a tag on it and we'll go grab a saw."

  "I want to tag it," she said, "but I don't want to cut it down. I want it to live out the rest of its natural life here. This is our tree now."

  A soft smile formed on Eric's lips. He pulled her into a hug, crushing her against his chest. "I won't let anyone cut this tree down. Not ever. I promise."

  Lola wrapped her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. She hated to ruin the mood, but she knew he needed to talk to her about his worries for the opening. "Now tell me why you don’t think anyone will come tomorrow," she whispered.

  Eric pulled away from her and gazed into her eyes. His shoulders sagged ever-so-slightly, but nothing like they had earlier in the week. He'd never be that guy again. He'd evolved past that despair. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she was absolutely certain.

  "After my parents died, I shut everyone out. I didn’t want to be around anyone. I was so angry. I still am," he admitted. "But it's been better since I met you."

  "Why are you angry?"

  He took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. "In the spring, my mom had routine gallbladder surgery. She was supposed to be released the same day. But she never came home."

  Lola immediately started to consider the things that could have gone wrong during his mother's surgery, but pushed it all aside. She wasn't a doctor right now. Eric needed her. She clasped his hand in hers and nodded encouragingly.

  "My father was a wreck. He didn’t think he'd b
e able to live without her. And he was right. He had a stroke less than a month later."

  Her heart ached for Eric. To lose both parents so unexpectedly and within a month of each other was more than anyone should have to endure.

  Tears welled in his eyes but he didn't give them a chance to brim over, his face turning to stone. "You're supposed to be able to trust doctors. But they don't care. After my mom's death, they wouldn't even talk to me. Their lawyers took over. Once upon a time, decent people may have become doctors. But now, they're all liars and hypocrites, just out to make a buck."

  Lola flinched before remembering that Eric didn’t know she was a doctor.

  Eric's stony expression melted into a warm smile. "But then you came, Lola. I couldn't have gotten the farm ready without you. You've brought me back to life."

  He looked at her with such tenderness that Lola wanted to cry. She felt a fist clenching around her heart, squeezing it to the point of pain.

  Because as soon as Eric discovered she was a doctor, that stony expression he wore a few seconds ago would return—only it would be aimed directly at her.

  She would have to tell him the truth eventually. But for now, it would just have to be a secret.

  After plowing the snow off the driveway, Eric shut off the tractor. "Let's go find your car," he said, helping Lola down from the jump seat.

  They walked hand-in-hand. He felt lighter since sharing the details of his parents' deaths with her. It felt better to get it off his chest. With Lola around, Eric felt like a human being again. Like someone worthy of being out in the world.

  They rounded a corner and Eric spotted a hunk of metal in the trees. It took him several seconds to process what he was seeing. Then his heart turned to ice. "That's your car?" he gasped.

  Lola nodded. "It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?"

  That was an understatement. It barely resembled a car at all. It looked more like a beer can that had been crushed against a frat boy's forehead. How had she walked away from that? Panic seized him.