She plops into an overstuffed recliner, yawning. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Knox. Fake trees take real work.”
Nice wordplay. “I’m not sorry.” An afternoon with Everly? I’ll take it. And wouldn’t it be great if we ran across a mistletoe sprig in one of these red tubs markedtree decorations?
I set my behind on a leather ottoman belonging to a neighboring chair. “You wanna hear a funny story?”
With another yawn, she gathers her luscious hair into a handheld ponytail. “I could use a good laugh.”
“Hmm. I don’t know if my story’s that good, but here goes.” I slap the tree box. “This baby right here makes three trees for me this year. So far, that is.” I flash her a playful smile.
Her eyes widen. “No way.”
“Yep.”
“Three?”
I explain about helping Mom during my trip home. “And of course, you know about the diner tree.” Best non-date date ever. A month of planning couldn’t have topped that spur of the moment stroke of genius.
She pulls her spine from the squeaky leather. “Oh, Knox, really, you don’t have to do this. Don’t let my mom pressure you. I can deal with her.”
I can’t help but smile big. Everly has that effect time and again. Not only could I gaze at her for hours, if I can finagle a way to separate from prying eyes, I’ll pick up where we left off before that pest of a sister shut things down last night.
Slow down, man.
“I’m pressure-free, Everly. Let’s toss some icicles onto this baby.”
The pucker of her full lips rockets me to the moon. “Sorry, no tinsel in these tubs. Mom outlawed the stuff when I was five.”
I snap my fingers. “Aw, shucks.”
She droops back, tugging together the sides of the cream-colored, cozy cardigan she wears. The pale shade pops the intense color of her irises. “Well…phooey.”
“Phooey?”
“I was hoping for an excuse to back out of this chore.”
“Chore?”Ouch.
“Hey.” Her foot bumps my loafer. “I’m happy you’re here. All I’m saying is, I don’t know how Uncle Charlie does it. Running a diner is not for the faint of heart. My lower back is begging me to call a chiropractor, and,” she pinches her fingers almost together, “I’mthisclose to buying a pair of old-lady orthotic shoes.”
I take her hand, smoothing my thumb across her knuckles. “I’m sure Charlie appreciates what you’re doing.”
She smirks. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but he called Mom this morning and nearly had another heart attack when she toldhim I closed early last night. Mom says she can’t repeat the things he said, but I’ll take the suspense out of it for you:thanks for your helpwas not one of them.”
Everly is funny. Honest to goodness clever and proficient in making me smile. I lean against my fist, registering the sleepiness around her eyes. “Do you suppose a quick foot rub before starting the tree would scandalize your mom?”
A wistful smile precedes a sigh. “Scandalizeis a strong word, but…yeah, better pass on that. And Oakley would never let me hear the end of it.”
“How about we make it a raincheck?”
Dadgum, I wasn’t going for sultry, but the average nursing home patient could hear the gravel in my voice, sans hearing aid. Hopefully, the fact that I parked myself in a pew this morning balances out any negative impressions.
I stand and tug her up with me. “Come on, sleepy. Show-on-the-road time.” It takes every last ounce of self-control not to circle my arms around her waist and haul her to me as if we’ve been together for a year. I place my palms atop her shoulders and point her in the direction of the box waiting to be stripped of packing tape. She baby-stomps her feet in protest.
“Oh, brother. Never mind.” I pinch her shoulder blade. “Curl back up in that recliner and take yourself a nap. I’ll handle this part.”
She groans. “Mom would never let me hear the end of it.”
I fish the pocketknife that goes everywhere I go from my slacks. Everly stands aside as I slide the blade the length of the box.
