Like her.

She pushes the door, holding it open for me, and I walk through it, relieved to see the company truck still sitting there, the tree safely nestled in the back. “I can set this up wherever you want it,” I tell her.

“You can?” She sounds hopeful. Like she doesn’t want to deal with it, and I can’t blame her. Putting up a Christmas tree can be a hassle. When you do it all the time like me, it’s no big deal.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. It’s part of my job.” I haul the tree out of the truck and peek my head around it so I can meet her gaze. “Where do you want it?”

She presses her lips into a straight line, her brows knitting together, and I can tell she’s thinking. Damn, she’s cute. Wait, that’s not the right word for her. Beautiful. Classy.

That’s more like it.

Untouchable.

I need to remember that. She’d see nothing in a chump like me. I’d take a guess she’s older than I am. Around Candice’s age. Maybe even a little older. Mid-twenties for sure.

And I’m a so-called adult who only recently became old enough to drink legally. Who works full-time for a Christmas tree farm with no aspirations, while her upscale family owns a jewelry store and are probably rich as hell. I can’t compete.

I don’t even know why I bother thinking like this.

“There are still customers in the store,” she finally says, tapping her index finger against her cherry-red lips. “Can you be…inconspicuous?”

“Of course,” I say, vaguely offended. “I can manage to stay out of everyone’s way.”

“Okay then.” She nods once, as if confirming my response and she approves. “Follow me.”

I do as she says as best to my abilities, considering I’m carrying a giant tree all by myself. I stumble a few times. And I’m sure I’m scattering a path of pine needles in my wake. When we actually enter the storefront, I hear someone gasp.

It’s the elegant woman who’s a carbon copy of Amelia, her fingers covering her mouth. I’m sure I just horrified her with the mess the tree made.

“Amelia, that tree is just gorgeous!” the woman exclaims, running right up to me. She reaches out and gently touches the branches, a wonderous expression on her face as her gaze shifts to mine. “This is the first time we’ve had a real Christmas tree in the shop since…ever!”

Well. That wasn’t the reaction I expected.

“I hope you like it, ma’am,” I say in my best polite voice. “The Sullivan farm grows the best trees in the area, if you ask me.”

“Oh, are you one of the Sullivans?” the woman asks.

I shake my head. “He’s my boss.”

The woman contemplates me, her gaze assessing. Nerves blast through me, and I wonder why.

Oh, probably because I feel like I’m being sized up. Analyzed.

“Mother, leave him alone.” Amelia magically appears, offering me an apologetic smile. “Can you set it up in front of the window over there?” she asks, pointing at the giant front window.