Arlene James - Her Montana Christmas

“You could sit on my shoulder,” he proposed, “and use those long-handled pruning shears to cut the holly at the base.”

She touched her eyebrow. “And if I drop the shears on your head?”

“I’ll try not to drop you, too.”

She rolled her eyes, even as she reached for the shears with one hand. Ethan went down on one knee, and she climbed up, settling her weight onto his right shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked, wrapping both arms around her knees.

“I guess.”

“Up we go, then.” He stood. She weighed...just what she should. If he hadn’t needed to hold his head at a somewhat awkward angle, he could have carried her for some distance like this. As it was, he only had to walk a few steps to the rock face. She reached above her and, with some effort, clipped off the first clump, which fell right down into his face.

“Sorry!”

He spit specks of dirt out of his mouth, eyes blinking rapidly. “My fault. From now on, I’ll look down.”

“Can you move sideways a couple feet?”

Stepping over the big clump of holly, he moved to his left. This time, she used the shears to flick the clump behind them.

“Good job.”

“Think I have a future as a holly harvester?” she joked, stretching to get another big ball.

He assisted by lifting her slightly, heaving her up by the knees. “I think you have a future as anything God ordains.”

“Walked into that one, didn’t I?” she quipped, managing the third clump. “One more.”

She wound up basically standing in his hands, against the rock wall, to reach the final ball of holly. After it fell, she dropped the shears well away from him. “You can let me down now.”

“If you insist,” he told her playfully, backing up a step so she could bend her knees and resume her place on his shoulder.

His arms were shaking a bit by the time she was safely seated again, but he was feeling quite powerful and manly—and glad that he’d been working out regularly with the weights in his basement. Showing off a bit, he reached up to grasp her about the waist and twirl her to face him, almost dropping her in the process. Instantly, he clamped his arms around her and felt her body slam into his, knocking the breath from both of them. When his vision cleared, they were standing wrapped in each other’s arms, her face turned up to his. It took a supreme act of will, bolstered by a silent prayer, to drop his arms and step back.

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