Page 21 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

Logan’s mind flickered back to the Hayes boys—Roan and Jason—inseparable in their younger years, wild in ways the other Hayes cousins only brushed against. Roan had always been the quiet intensity to Jason’s easy charm, a natural daredevil with a streak of restlessness that never seemed satisfied by small-town life.

His sudden departure after their mother’s death had left a hollow note in the family, one Logan hadn’t realized still lingered with his mother.

And now, after more than a decade, Roan was coming back. All Logan could think about was Reese.

“What about Jason? How’s he doing?” Logan asked his mother.

“He didn’t say much about him. I got the feeling maybe they’re estranged.

” Mom shook her head. “They both took my sister’s death so hard.

I tried to get them to stay here with us but they headed to L.A.

right after her funeral. Frankly, I wasn’t sure we’d see either of them again.

” Mom’s eyes filled. “It’s been a great sorrow to me—not knowing my sister’s boys. She would be so disappointed.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have your chance,” Logan said.

Later, when he could steal a quiet moment with Mia near the Christmas tree, he told her about Roan. “He’s coming back.”

Mia’s brow wrinkled. “Who are we talking about?”

“Roan, my cousin. He’s the one that broke Reese’s heart.”

“Oh, him,” Mia said, eyes widening. “That’s not good.”

“He’s been a stuntman in L.A. all this time. Very successful, apparently. His twin, Jason, is an actor.”

“This could send Reese spiraling,” Mia said.

“Yeah,” Logan said quietly. “Should we tell her?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s sleep on that. We can talk about it tomorrow.” She gazed at his mother’s tree. “This is really pretty. It makes me wish I had room for one.”

“Do you want to go out to Martin’s tomorrow and pick out a tree for my house?” Logan asked. “I haven’t bothered in years past, since I don’t really host anything. This year feels different though.”

“How so?” Mia lifted her chin, staring up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Because of you. The holidays are suddenly more fun.”

“I would love to go with you.”

He picked a bit of frosting out of her hair. “It’s a date.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wash my hair first.”

The next evening, they arrived at the tree farm after dark, a clear sky stretched above them scattered with twinkling stars.

Logan drove through the glowing entrance, where twin evergreens stood wrapped in rivers of white lights.

From her spot in Mia’s lap, Cannoli pressed her paws to the window, nose fogging the glass as her tail wagged furiously at the sight.

He parked, and soon they were outside, breath puffing in the cold air, all bundled up for their tree hunt. Cannoli trotted happily at the end of her red leash, sniffing the snowbanks with great seriousness before pouncing through them like a rabbit.

Scents of fresh pine and woodsmoke from a bonfire crackling near the main building made it feel very much like Christmas.

Families moved through the neat rows of trees like shadows against the starlit snow, their voices carrying soft conversations and children’s excited squeals across the frosty air.

Logan smiled as he watched Mia take it all in—the big red barn trimmed in lights, the farmhouse porch wrapped in garland and bows, lanterns flickering on each step.

“Okay, this is officially the most charming place I’ve ever seen.” Mia pulled her hat down tighter over her ears.

“This was always one of my favorite Christmas traditions,” Logan said. “Even when we were teenagers and too cool to admit it.”

Mia clasped her gloved hands. “This is so exciting. I’ve never gotten a real tree before. We always had a fake tree in the city.”

“One must never utter the words ‘fake tree’ in my family.” He offered her his hand, and they walked toward the cabin. Cannoli trotted ahead, ears flopping with every step, until she reached the porch steps and gave an impatient bark as if to say, “Hurry up already.”

Inside, the cabin glowed with warmth and smelled of candy canes.

A crackling fire blazed in the stone hearth, and shelves brimmed with glittering ornaments, hand-carved reindeer, rustic wreaths, and glass baubles in every color imaginable.

Cannoli sniffed her way along the lower shelves, pausing to nose a basket of felt squirrels before Logan gently steered her toward safer territory.

Mia wandered slowly through the space, picking up a delicate ceramic snowflake and a gingerbread-scented candle. He watched her carefully, storing away every smile, every laugh to think about later.

“Look at this one.” Mia held up a miniature rolling pin. “I love it.”

He took it from her and examined it, grinning. “We have to have it.” His eyes drifted to a nearby display of chef-themed ornaments—tiny copper pots, little wooden spoons, and a perfect miniature whisk that caught the firelight. “And maybe that whole section too.”

Mia laughed, reaching for a small ornament shaped like a chef’s hat. “This is dangerous. I’m going to want them all.”

They picked out a handful of other ornaments—a bird’s nest with pearl eggs, silver bells, miniature vintage trucks carrying Christmas trees, little ice skates tied with velvet ribbons—and then stepped back into the night air. Cannoli pranced between them, the tip of her nose dusted with snow.

“Ready to find the perfect tree?” Logan asked.

“Oh yes. Let’s do it.”

Her excitement was infectious, and he found himself grinning as they wandered the rows under twinkle lights, the air filled with the scent of pine and distant laughter.

Cannoli trotted ahead, occasionally diving under a low branch only to pop out the other side with a shower of snowflakes clinging to her sweater.

Mia walked slowly, her eyes scanning every trunk, every branch. “Too short. Too tall. That one looks like it had a rough childhood.”

He chuckled. “Poor thing.”

“It has to be just right.”

At last, they found it—a tall, full Fraser fir with strong branches and a graceful shape.

“This is the one.” She stepped forward to touch a branch.

Logan stepped back to admire her choice—a perfect seven-footer with full, symmetrical branches. “I agree. It’s perfect.”

Mia nodded, running her hand along the soft needles. “Our first tree together.”

“I hope there will be many more.”

“Do you mean that?” Mia asked.

“More than I could ever say.”

He flagged down one of the farm workers, who tagged their tree and promised to have it netted and ready within minutes. Cannoli supervised the process from the sidelines, tail wagging like a metronome, before leading the way back toward the car.

Later, once everything was loaded, Mia stood with her back to him, head tilted up toward the stars.

“These last few weeks have been so much fun,” Mia said. “Thank you for helping me find my Christmas cheer.”

“Thank you for helping me to find mine,” Logan said.

She slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. “I never expected this.”

“Neither did I,” he murmured into her hair. “But I’m so grateful.”

“Let’s take our tree home,” Mia said, eyes shining. “Cannoli wants in on the action.”

Logan opened the passenger door for her, heart so full he could hardly speak.

How could finding a Christmas tree together make him this happy?

He’d teased his brothers over the years, as he watched each of them fall madly in love, not really understanding how grown men could act so moony and love struck.

Now that it was happening to him, he understood perfectly.

The scent of pine filled the living room as Logan finished stringing the lights and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The Fraser fir stood tall and proud in front of the big window, its branches covered in white lights.

Cannoli sat back on her haunches, staring at the lights suspiciously.

Logan picked her up and held her against his chest. “It’s all fine, little girl. Just a few lights.”

Cannoli whimpered.

“So pretty.” Mia hugged herself as she looked at the tree.

“I’ve never seen a better one.” Every tree he’d picked with his family growing up had been just fine. This one was different. Because she’d picked it. Because it was theirs.

He set Cannoli down on the blanket near the hearth and flipped on the gas fireplace. “Let’s open some wine and decorate, shall we?”

“I’m in.”

When he returned with glasses of red, Mia was already unwrapping the ornaments they’d bought at the farm and laying them gently on the coffee table. Logan sat beside her, passing her one of the glasses. “Let’s toast to our first tree.”

Mia clinked hers gently against his. “To our tree.”

They worked side by side, looping twine through the ornaments and stepping back every so often to assess their spacing. The fire cast a soft orange glow. Outside, snow had begun to fall. Cannoli dozed on her blanket, apparently no longer afraid of the twinkling tree.

A few minutes later, a flash of movement caught Mia’s eye. Matilda the cat had entered the room with all the stealth of a jungle predator, her green eyes fixed on the lower branches. She crouched, tail flicking, every muscle coiled.

“Oh no,” Mia whispered. “She’s in hunting mode.”

Before Logan could react, Matilda sprang, batting a silver bell ornament clean off its hook. It hit the rug with a muted thud and rolled straight toward Cannoli. The dog woke instantly, pouncing on it like a goalie, then let out a triumphant bark.

Not to be outdone, Matilda swatted another ornament—a quilted gingerbread man Mia had just hung low on a branch—and this time Cannoli snatched it mid-roll.

“No no no no—” Mia lunged, but Cannoli was already darting across the room with the gingerbread man clamped in her mouth, Matilda trotting smugly behind her as if they were partners in crime.

“Guess that one’s hers now,” Logan said.

“Absolutely not.” Mia was already in pursuit, laughing. “Cannoli, drop it. And you—” she pointed at Matilda “—are pure evil.”

Matilda only blinked, then leapt onto the back of the couch to watch the chase with regal satisfaction.

The dog did not drop the ornament. She bounded onto the cushions, did a wild circle, then flopped down with a triumphant little huff, her furry accomplice watching like a queen surveying her kingdom.

“I think they might get along after all,” Logan said. “Partners in crime.”

Logan leaned in to kiss Mia, slow and lingering, the tree lights blinking behind them, snow falling outside the windows, and one mischievous dog and one plotting cat turning their first Christmas tree into a war zone.

And he thought there could not be a more beautiful moment in all the world than the one in which he found himself now.

“You make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world,” Logan said, kissing her neck.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You kind of are.”

He chuckled. “No disagreement here.”

They spent the rest of the evening finishing the tree, curling up beneath a blanket on the couch, and watching White Christmas while Cannoli slept next to them with the stolen ornament between her paws—and Matilda lounged on the mantel, tail twitching, clearly plotting her next attack.