Laughter tumbled from her. “Travis is younger than me and Flora, but it didn’t stop him from brotherly duties. Nobody messed with us and got away with it.”
Gabe’s eyes darkened. “I can’t imagine anyone causing you trouble.”
“A popular girl in high school decided she didn’t like me after Sam Lawton asked me to homecoming sophomore year. She made up lie after lie about me and Flora, making our high school years miserable at times.”
“I can’t stand petty people. Did she grow out of it?”
“Remember the lady who sang this morning?”
His eyes widened. “Her?”
“She went away to college in South Carolina, got involved with a Bible study group, and came back a different person.”
“What about Sam?” His gaze locked with hers, energy charging between them.
“Sam?” Lost in his eyes, she couldn’t think.
“The kid who asked you to homecoming.”
“Don’t know.” Was her breath as airy as it sounded to her? “Didn’t go with him and he moved later that year.”
He stepped closer to her. “Is there anyone to ask you to dance now?”
“No one,” she whispered.
His hand brushed against her cheek, so briefly she might have imagined it. “Good to know.”
He turned and walked away, leaving her bereft. Confused by emotions that didn’t make sense, she remained where she was for several seconds before catching up with him.
As if nothing had transpired, he tossed her a box of lights. “Think three of these boxes will be enough?”
She searched the label for the light count. “Should be.”
“Let’s stretch them out, and connect them, make sure they all work.” His hands worked to untangle the strings before he’d finished speaking.
Thankfully the new packages made the untangling easy. He plugged one end into the outlet behind the tree.
Cora lowered her gaze, admiring the line of multi-colored lights. The fanciful side of her was pleased he’d went for color over sophistication. Sure, all white lights were beautiful and ethereal, but the varied colors sparked joy and invited whimsy to Christmas.
Working together, they wrapped the lights evenly around his six-foot tree which looked smaller under the cathedral ceiling. Arms spread wide, she tugged the strand to her other side, then handed it over to Gabe to circle his side of the tree.
They kept the bulbs lit while they hung ornaments, stopping at each stage to admire their handiwork. Once all the new decorations had been added, including the replica ornaments of a time gone by, Gabe reached for the box of salt dough disks with a ribbon looped through each.
He clutched them to his chest before sitting on the sofa and taking them out one by one. “Natalie made this one. Princesses were her obsession at the time, thus the tiara.”
“It’s cute.” She took it and hung it from a bare branch. “Where’s yours.”
A sheepish smile appeared. “We don’t need to see mine.”
“Yes, we do.”
He stood up, sweeping the ornaments into his arms. “No, we don’t.”
Laughing, she reached to grab them from him. Their shoulders collided, and that trembling shock arced between them again. The laughter died, and their eyes met.
“What are we doing?” His husky voice reached down and warmed her cheek.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know, but I think I need to know.” She stopped her rambling, felt the heat crawl up her neck. “This isn’t like me.”
