“Or enclose the staircase.”
“I can’t believe you suffer through this whenever you visit Sparky.”
“It’s not so bad with a coat on.”
She glanced up. “Where’s your coat now? What are you doing standing outside like a moron? Go back in!”
“I’m fine.” He hunched his shoulders to keep from shivering. “Looks like I’m getting a gift.”
“You probably have a big tree already.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good thing I brought this, then. We’ve got less than a week left.”
“Guess so.”
“Sneaks up on you.”
“That’s a fact.” Christmas. He’d been so busy he’d mostly blocked the evidence it was approaching. He’d probably deploy his usual tactic — pretending to have a highly contagious cold on the twenty-third that conveniently lasted for three days.
The tree was a sweet gesture, though. Looked like she might have decorated it herself. She had no way of knowing how much he dreaded the holiday. “Let me take that.” He reached for it as she neared the top step.
“Okay.” She handed it over and finished the climb, breathing fast. “Now get the hell inside.”
“After you.” He gestured toward the open door.
With a resigned sigh, she ducked in, toed off her boots on the mat and moved aside to make room for him. “You’d better not get sick.”
“I won’t.” Fudge it all. Now when he pretended to be sick, she’d be put out with him for standing in the cold waiting for her. Oh, well. Couldn’t be helped now.
Closing the door, he shucked his boots, carried the tree to the kitchen island and set it down. “Great decorating job.”
“Thanks.” She flipped back her hood and unzipped her coat. “I adore trimming trees.” She tucked her gloves in her coat pockets. “You’ll have to come see all the ones Claudie and I put up.”
“Love to.” He’d ignore the trees and concentrate on her. The mini-hacienda she shared with her sister was a short walk away, but he’d only been there a couple of times. Playing it cool.
“I tied the ornaments on tight, so you don’t have to worry about things falling off.” Shrugging out of her coat, she hung it on a peg by the door. She’d worn a white sweater with a green wreath on the front.
He pushed down a wave of anxiety. “Smells great.” So did she, a spicy scent he didn’t remember noticing before. Cinnamon? Fortunately he didn’t connect the scent to the holiday, or the aroma of evergreens, either.
But once ornaments hung from the branches, they turned into something he regularly avoided. He’d cut Christmas out of his life the minute he’d left his parents’ house at sixteen. When he and Jordan had shared an apartment, December twenty-fifth had been just another day. By mutual agreement.
“After the ground unfreezes, you can plant it.” Mila headed toward the island, her sock feet whispering over the wood floor.
“Is there a certain spot on the property where it should go?”
“There is. We had a pine beetle infestation years ago and had to clear out a section of forest. We planted seedlings that spring, and now we add any live trees we buy at Christmas. I’ll go with you. I have a couple of these small ones, too.”
“It’s a deal.” His pulse rate picked up. She was within arm’s reach. Had they ever been completely alone like this? Not that he could remember.
Judging from the flicker of awareness in her brown eyes, she’d had the same realization. Turning away, she surveyed the area. “Your place looks inviting on a cold winter day.”
“Thanks.” Not as inviting as she looked. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Technically her Christmas-themed sweater should neutralize his urge to touch her. It didn’t.
She pointed to the far end of the space. “I assume the surprise is under that sheet.”
“It is.” With luck, the animatronics would distract him from the hot thoughts swirling in his brain.
