He doesn’t offer a hand. Doesn’t offer a smile. Doesn’t even offer the bare minimum of human warmth.
“My sister wanted me to check on you,” he continues. “Said someone was moving in today. You should know—watch the chimney. It’s old. Could spark.”
I blink. “Nice to meet you too?”
He doesn’t blink back. “Not trying to be nice. Trying to keep you from burning the place down.”
Holly tugs his sleeve. “Uncle Ash, she likes books!”
He exhales like that information is somehow deeply inconvenient. “Great.”
I straighten, narrowing my eyes. “For the record, I happen to think this cabin is adorable. Cozy. Charming.”
“It’s a fire hazard,” he says flatly.
“Maybe you’re a fire hazard,” I shoot back before my brain can catch up with my mouth.
Holly covers her mouth in a gasp.
Ash’s brows lift—just slightly. “Excuse me?”
I hug my box to my chest. “I said what I said.”
His mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile—or a snarl. Hard to tell with this man. “You’re already planning to put up lights.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
He points to the glitter marker label on the box in my arms.
I look down.
CHRISTMAS CRAP.
…Fair.
“Yes,” I say, lifting my chin. “I enjoy a little festive sparkle.”
He makes a low sound in his throat that might be a laugh if it weren’t so full of disbelief. “Festive sparkle. Right. Well, Sparky?—”
“Sparky?”
“You’re going to spark something with those decorations. Probably a fire.”
“I am not sparking anything!”
“Yet.”
I glare. “Is this how you greet all your neighbors? Accusing them of impending arson?”
“Only the ones who show up with seventeen boxes of electrical hazards.”
“It’s fifteen.”
“Comforting.”
Holly giggles from behind him. Traitor.
Ash shifts the duffel on his shoulder and moves up another step. He’s close enough now that I realize just how big he is. Broad chest, thick arms, the kind of shoulders that look designed for carrying heavy things… or picking people up and pinning them against?—
