Everly spins.
I flip my palms up. “Just asking. I expected a cook or something.”
She executes a sidestep. An intentional move to within reach of the butcher block filled with knives?
“Well, the dish washer never showed, and my cook must have told me fifty times his back hurt. I sent him home once you ordered the casserole. Figured I could scrape food from a pan as well as he could. Trust me. You do not want to see me in the kitchen.”
Oh, I don’t know. A startlingly clear imagination forms. Everly perched on the counter while I stir up a batch of Gampy’s famous gumbo on Christmas Eve.
Trading kisses every chance we get.
I blink the vision, foolish thing, into oblivion. “Nope. Wouldn’t want to see that. Never ever.”
She tilts her head at me funny. More likeI’mfunny—the alien-from-space kind of amusing.
I clap my palms together. “Alright. Whatcha got for me?”
She holds her ground near the knives and points to the opening of a short hallway. A long, narrow box stands on end.
“A Christmas tree?”
“Nice work, detective. Would you mind carrying it out front?”
Mind? I’ll use my muscles in Everly’s service any time, any place.
I swing the thing onto my shoulder. She rushes ahead for the door.
On an educated guess, I set the box down beside the first one.
Chapter 5
Everly
“Thank youuu…” My tongue flounders, searching for a name I realize I do not know.
The big man grins, and the preposterously adorable dimple from earlier sneaks out to play. “Knox.”
Not run-of-the-mill.I like it.“Thank you, Knox.”
“You’re welcome, Everly.”
My throat gets warm.Dumb dimple.
Sure, he’s cute, but it’s not like he’s a total hottie or anything. Yes, he’s tall, and his brown eyes are flecked with melted caramel. He’s just very…big. In a good way, though. A strong way. He hurled the bulky box onto his wide shoulder as if it were a twenty-pound toddler.
He’s also got a teddy bear vibe going on, a thought that has me tamping down a snicker. Men tend not to be fans of being compared to a cuddly child’s toy. But hey, sometimes the shoe just fits.
He spreads his arms, resting his palms on the counter. “Hey, what’s so funny over there?”
“Not a thing.” I spin to the box and start picking at tape that’s more or less melted to the cardboard. What I should be doing is walking this guy out the door and locking up since he isn’t exactly making tracks for the exit on his own. It’s well past closing time.Rude.
Right. I am sooo angry.
Knox fishes a pocketknife from his jeans and slips the steely point between the tape and cardboard. He repeats the process on the other end and folds back the tattered flaps.
Nosy guy, he peers in first, thumbing a clear container of tarnished red and green balls atop a mound of miscellaneous decorations. “Christmas, huh?” For a fleeting second, his mouth tightens. I may be a grump this year, but I’d be royally disappointed if he turned out to be a real life scrooge.
Disappointed why, exactly?
