***
The last several days we’ve been working to get the new attractions put together. Today we’re working on creating giant, glowing ornaments that will be grouped on either side of the sidewalk. Yesterday, we worked together on the frames. Sammie secured the wood pieces with screws and wood glue while I measured and made the cuts with the saw. She wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t need me— she knows exactly what she’s doing.
We’re dividing and conquering. Right now, she’s painting the pegboard that the lights will be strung through, and I can’t help watching her as she does. I’m supposed to be framing the gingerbread houses that will be large enough for people to walk through, but I’m finding myself distracted as she moves. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she’s wearing a puffy vest to keep the sleeves of her coat from getting paint on them. Her jeans are hugging the curve of her ass, splotches of old paint covering them. She’s stunning.
Some men prefer their women all dolled up, but I’ve always found myself drawn to a more low-key, natural look. And boy does Sammie fit that mold. Sure, she dresses up now and then, especially when she’s not doing manual labor, but she’s even more appealing to me without all that. I want someone willing to work beside me and not watching from afar, too dainty to get her hands messy. This just solidifies that she’s the girl I’m looking for.
“How are the houses coming along?” Sammie’s back is to me as she hollers at me. She’s keeping a strict schedule and the goal today is to finish the ornaments and the gingerbread houses. Quinn has enlisted the help of the art department at the Rosewood College and they are coming to decorate the houses to look exactly like homemade gingerbread houses. They’ve been working on creating smaller pieces that will be attached: gumdrops, mints, candy canes, and whatever else goes on a gingerbread house. From what I understand, the only thing they’ll need is a drill.
“Almost done getting the walls ready.” To emphasize my point, I drive the screws into the wood, the noise of the drill downing out all sound.
“Better hurry. Thisneedsto be done today.” She looks over her shoulder at me, and I can’t help but smile at her. She rolls her eyes as expected, but I think I’m starting to wear her down. She’s not as grumpy as she was last week.
At least I think she isn’t.
“Yes, ma’am.” She tries to hide it, but I can see a hint of a smile cross that beautiful mouth of hers.
Thirty minutes later, she’s gotten the ornaments painted and has moved on to priming the plywood walls for the houses. She told the college that everything would be ready for them and all they would need to do is place the decorations and that meant getting everything painted the distinctive shade of brown.
In no time at all the wall frames are finally ready to be put together. “Sammie, I’m gonna need your help with this.” She finishes spraying the last board and stands walking over toward me.
Clapping her hands together she says, “Where do you need me?” Immediately my mind goes to her laying on my bed, naked and ready for me.
Fuck. Get your head out of the gutter.
My face is suddenly hot and I clear my throat. “Um, I need you to help me stand this wall up here,” I point to the one at her feet, “and hold it in place while I lift this side and secure them.” On the count of three, we lift the wall into a standing position. “You okay for me to do the other one?” I ask.
“Sure. I’ve got this.” Her head nods as if reassuring herself. I don’t want her to get hurt, so I work as quickly as I can to lift the other frame into place.
“Let me know if it gets too heavy.”
Sammie grimaces as we fit the frames together. “I said I’ve got it,” she snaps.
Oh this woman is stubborn.
We work together, quickly getting the three structures standing. Her design has the houses in varying sizes to make them enjoyable for people of all ages. The smallest one is big enough for toddlers to waddle through, and the cuteness of it all makes me grin. She really has thought of everything.
Glancing down at my watch, I realize it’s lunchtime. “Is the paint dry yet?”
Sammie wanders over, examining the slabs of wood, gently touching different spots to check if the paint is dry. “Nah. They still need a bit more time.”
Perfect.
“Well, why don’t we go get some lunch?” I ask. I want to sit down and have a full conversation without having to talk over power tools. And selfishly I want her attention all to myself. Sammie turns and stares at me, contemplation written all over her face. Ineedthis time with her. I’d be kicking myself if I never got the chance to get to know her. “C’mon,” I jest. “It’s my treat. Lunch never hurt anyone.”
She purses her lips for a moment before finally answering. “Sure, we can have lunch.” Pleasure zings through me and I have to fight the urge to fist-pump the air like John Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club.
This is my shot and I’m not going to blow it.
Chapter Five
Sammie
Honey’s Diner is a quaint little spot just down Main Street. Honey, the owner, is a sweet lady who’s a staple in this town. She’s one of the first people I met in Rose Prairie, and she holds a special place in my heart.
It might be a mistake to come to lunch with Levi, but he’s been so kind that I couldn’t say no. Levi might be Lori Haverford’s nephew, but he certainly isn’t anything like her. He genuinely wants to see this be a success and is on board with my ideas, often adding to them and making them better. If he’s reporting back to his aunt, at this point I don’t care.
The diner is busy with the lunch rush, but we manage to grab a small, two-person booth. Honey’s is kitschy, decorated with honeybees and honeycombs. Even the vinyl on the booths and chairs is a golden shade of honey. The waitresses wear 50’s inspired dresses complete with lace socks and Mary Jane shoes. I absolutely love it.
