my voice way too rough, so I tried again. “I’d love that. Though I have to warn you, I can talk for hours about it. Just ask Cole.”
His body shook a little as he laughed. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”
My resolve to give him space hung by a thread in that moment, because all I wanted to do was pin him against the cushions and kiss the hell out of him. Instead, I bit the inside of my cheek and focused on the TV.
We lapsed into a comfortable silence, and I finally relaxed enough to enjoy being pressed against him without wanting to jump him. My eyes felt heavy, the rest of me sinking into the cushions.
It felt like home.
Snuggled on the sofa with Finn’s arm securely wrapped around me, I couldn’t decide whether moving in here had been Cole’s best idea ever or his worst.
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. The kind of crisp winter morning that I loved—bright blue sky, frost on the ground, and a bite to the air that reminded me Christmas was just around the corner.
Which was the reason Finn and I had driven to the Christmas tree farm. It wasn’t the one I usually went to with Mum, which I was grateful for, but it looked nice enough. Lots of trees to choose from.
Finn parked in the half-full car park and got out. I did the same, pulling on my hat and gloves at the chill. “What sort of tree did you have in mind?” I asked, following Finn to the entrance.
“Erm . . .” He walked backwards for a moment, facing me, and held his hand up near his head. “One about this high.”
“Right.” I shook my head, laughing. “I can already see this being a long day.”
“Fuck off, I’m easy to please.”
Yeah, I had my doubts about that. “Well, what tree did you have last year?” The way Finn’s face clouded over, I immediately wished I’d not asked. “Doesn’t matter.”
“We had a small artificial one. Evan wasn’t keen on decorating the house, said it was a waste of time as we’d be out far too much.”
I had plenty of thoughts on that but kept them to myself. Evan was a selfish wanker if he thought Finn wouldn’t enjoy nights in with a house full of decorations watching a Christmas movie. I’d been there all of seven days and I already knew how much Finn loved being at home. Especially now he had Angus.
And talking of which . . .
“Do you reckon Angus will attack the tree?”
Finn barked out a laugh. “No. It takes him an age to saunter across the living room carpet. I can’t picture him mustering up enough energy to attack anything.
“Good point.” Angus was a loveable but lazy bastard. Still, cats and baubles . . . I had a sneaking feeling they might tempt him into a bit of exercise. “Come on.” I clapped my hands, eager to get back home and into the warmth. “Let’s get that tree.”
It turned out that Finn was a lying liar who lied.
He was not easy to please. In fact, he was pickier than my mum, which was saying something. We must’ve looked at a hundred trees—maybe a slight exaggeration—and yet we were still emptyhanded. They were too tall, too short, not full enough, too full . . . the list went on.
“Finn,” I said, coming to stand next to him as he stood in front of a stack of trees I was almost certain we’d been through already. “What’s wrong?” We’d seen at least ten trees that I thought were perfect or as near as, dammit, but none of them had taken his fancy.
He pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I know I’m being a right pain in the arse. This was meant to cheer you up, not bore you to death.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “I’m not bored. I love being outside on a day like this.” I shivered and tried to rub some warmth back into my arms. “But I might freeze to death if we don’t find one soon.”
He sighed, turning to face me. “I just want it to be perfect. Last year was a bit shit, so I wanted to do it right this time.”
I got it, I did.
“Okay.”
He gave me a sceptical look. “Okay?”
“Let’s carry on looking.” I flashed him a grin, wanting to banish all thoughts of his shitty Christmas last year. “Your perfect tree is out here