“Oneinternet search. I don’t make it a habit of Googling you.”
“Why not?” I jut my head back, affronted. “I’m interesting.”
She grins, which is exactly what I wanted to see.
“I came by to return these.” She holds out a gift box with my black cowboy hat on top. “It’s the Thanksgiving decorations you left at my place.” She nods her head at the hat. “And your hat, obviously.”
I narrow my eyes. “You can keep those.”
“The decorations?”
All of it,I think but manage not to say out loud. The idea of one of my ranch hats hanging out at her place doesn’t sound toobad. Even if it is my favorite. I like the idea of it being at her place … of something, anything, of mine being at her place.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I curse myself.
“What was that?” Ellyn asks.
“I said, you’re going to re-injure your wrist carrying all of this stuff over here like this.” I take the box from her hands.
“You live right next door. Took like thirty seconds to walk over here. And it wasn’t even that heavy.”
“That’s not the point,” I say, placing the box on a wooden chair in the corner of my garage, before taking Ellyn by the arm.
“Then what is the point? And where are you taking me?” she asks while I pull her into the garage.
“Take a seat here.” I direct her to the cushioned two-seater I keep in the garage. “I don’t give a care what those doctors say. You shouldn’t be standing too long on that injured hip.”
“Then it’ll really piss you off to know I went to Pilates this morning.” Her tone is so proud I have half a mind to turn her over. Heat as hot as a Texas summer shoots down my spine at the idea of having Ellyn at my will.
I turn away from her, clearing my throat, forcing myself to get those damn images out of my head.
“What are you doing with those lights?” she questions.
“Not much anymore. They’re not working,” I gripe as I frown down at the massive pile of Christmas lights in the box. “Ace is picking me up some tomorrow, but I should probably tell him not to bother. I should get them myself.”
“What’s wrong with them?” she inquires. “It might just be the bulbs on some of them. Have you tried plugging them in?”
She inches to the edge of the couch like she’s about to stand up.
“Don’t get off that couch,” I warn.
Her eyes widen before they narrow in challenge. “I’m not that injured anymore. I’m well enough to walk over here to bring you back your items.”
“Which you shouldn’t have done.”
“And I’m well enough to help with a few Christmas lights,” she continues, ignoring my comment. “Let me see what you have there.”
I push the box closer so she can see without pausing to think about how this woman is giving me orders in my own home. And I listen.
“You have enough lights in here for the whole neighborhood,” she gasps when she gets a look inside of the box.
“This is only one of three,” I tell her coolly.
Her eyebrows come close to touching her hairline. “I know your electricity bill is through the roof.”
“It’s worth it,” I counter. “How else do you think I’ve won the Harlington Neighborhood Christmas Decorating Competition three years in a row?”
“So I’ve heard,” she says with a roll of her eyes toward the ceiling.
