Working as a team, we assemble the base and the graduated boughs, bottom to top. The Wilkes’ tree isn’t nearly as tall as Mom’s, but it’s tall enough to require Knox the Ox’s stature for the top piece, no ladder required.
“I wish I were taller,” Everly says as I secure the topper in place.
I move to the center of the area rug to assess my handiwork, swatting my palms together. Fake needles are as itchy as real ones. “Nah, you’re too nice to be a tall person.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Tall folks look down on others.”
Everly’s cute—make that womanly—hip pops out, topped by her fist. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”
I grin. “Was it that bad?”
“Don’t quit your day job, Knox. Leave comedy to the pros.”
I grab my chest like she slugged me in the heart.
Eyes sparking with laughter, she further buzzes my senses by placing a cozy hand on my arm as she steps around me. “Let’s plug this baby in and see how we did.”
Before I can stop her, she drops to the floor and half of her disappears behind the tree. A second later, lights flare.
“Uhhh, Houston, we have a problem.”
Everly backs out of the nook between the tree and the fireplace hearth. She hops sideways when a branch swats her behind. “Don’t tell me there’s a section not working.”
“Not exactly...”
Disappointment cascades across her shoulders. The tree is one with switchable color themes, but a lone tier of branches shines with multicolor lights, while the rest glow sparkly clear.
“I assume it isn’t supposed to be this way?”
She gnaws her cheek. “Safe to say.”
“I’ll take a look.” I lower to the rug and flatten myself as much as possible to scoot beneath the southernmost boughs. “Must have gotten some wires crossed.”
A minute later, the tree shimmies and a needle drops onto my face. Everly joins me on the other side of the four-pronged stand,peering up the fake trunk. The aroma of sugary cookies drifts into the crawl space with her. Our shoulders brush.
“See anything?”
A pair of lips that might as well be sugarplum candy. “Nothing I know how to do anything about.” Not with mom and sis around.
“Hmm.”
Puckered in thought, Everly’s kissable mouth drags my brain further and further from diagnosing this tree. I roll my head, squinting up the tunnel of branches. “It might be more helpful if you were looking from up top.”
“Oh. Sure.” She inches for the exit.
In her tone, I hear I said the wrong thing, or at least said it the wrong way. “Wait.” My touch stills her. Smiling into her eyes, I sweep my fingers across buttery soft skin on the inside of her wrist.
Cocooned in an idyllic snippet of privacy, I lean across the four-legged stand and press a kiss to the curve of her cheek.
Her slow smile dissipates a wave of second-guessing. I’m not an impulsive guy, but the kiss was pure instinct. And for the record, my lips tingle with anticipation of the next one, one where both our lips will be involved.
Everly slips from beneath the tree, and we spend the next minutes as a team, tracing green cords and unplugging and re-plugging different connectors.
Best efforts exhausted, I stand in the middle of the living room rug, my chin tucked into my palm. Everly’s shoulder is brushing mine again, electrifying the skin beneath my shirt. “How is your mom going to handle this?”
“Less than perfect? It’s gonna be dicey.”
