Valerie laughed. “I wasn’t aware there was such a thing. And to think, I asked a Christmas heathen to help me decorate.”
“Scandalous,” he agreed, flirting.
Country music stars soon sang about the Baby Jesus and finding Christmas in the hustle and bustle. Ethan broke down each box they emptied and put them in the giant tree box so he could take them out when they finished. He had a dumpster for his business where he could deposit them.
Working together to fill the space with Christmas brought a special kind of magic he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. Sure, he and Collin decorated each year, but it wasn’t the same as doing it with a beautiful woman. Flirting with said woman was a bonus. Valerie was quick and had a musical laugh.
“Singin’ Gloria. Gloria,” sang Valerie with the music as she placed the star on the stone stable. The scene, carved out of rock, didn’t have faces but was simple and elegant. By using stone, the carver stated that what happened in that stable lasted forever and ever.
Ethan stopped folding the fuzzy red and white plaid blanket he planned to throw over the back of the couch so he could listen.
“This day, the Savior has been born,” she continued.
He’d never heard a voice like that, not in person. It was the voice of an angel. Never before had a note, a lift of a chin, or the sound of heaven, touched him so deeply.
She caught him staring and clamped her lips shut, the music continued to play, but without her voice, it was flat.
“Don’t stop,” he blurted. “You have a gift.” He stared in awe. He’d thought her beautiful before, but when she sang, it was as if her whole being lit up with heaven’s light.
She ducked behind her hair and didn’t answer him, her lips pursed.
He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “I ruined the moment for you.” She sang because she was happy, and he’d made her feel self-conscious by drawing attention to her. He folded the blanket faster, feeling like a jerk but not knowing exactly what he’d done. “Sorry.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “No. It was me. I shouldn’t have sung in front of you. I don’t know what came over me.” She glanced at the tree, all covered in red and gold.
He stood in front of her, using the blanket as a barrier, much as she had used the counter between them earlier. “My mom says a singing child is a happy child. I think the same thing is true for adults. You were happy–for a moment at least.”
She drew in a breath and then met his gaze. “I was. I am. This is the first Christmas I’ve tried to do all this alone. I was overwhelmed, and then I wasn’t … because you’re here.” She glanced around at the garland over the mantle, the stockings hanging down, and the platter on the fireplace filled with a snow globe and two candle holders. “I got lost in it. Thank you for that.”
He stepped closer, looking deep into her ocean-blue eyes. “I have a question.”
She gulped, and he could sense her pulling away from him.
Before she shut down, he asked. “Why three stockings?” he pointed at them.
She glanced over and then started laughing. “One for me.” She touched the first one. “And one for Tanya and one for Tucker.”
He cocked his head, his second question on the tip of his tongue: Who were Tanya and Tucker.
Before he could ask, she startled and looked at her watch. “Oh no!” She bolted to the kitchen and pulled a container out of the fridge. At the sound of the lid opening, two middle-aged beagles trotted into the kitchen. Their nails made a click-clack noise on the wood floor, and their breathing bounced off the stainless steel appliances. They sat on their backsides at Valerie’s feet and waited patiently.
Ethan chuckled. “Let me guess.” He pointed at them. “Tanya and Tucker?”
Valerie nodded as she hurriedly scooped food into the dog dishes she’d pulled from the cupboard. “The two most pampered pooches in Moose Hollow.” She rubbed their heads before setting crystal plates with gourmet dog food on them in front of the dogs.
Ethan eyed their dinner. “Why do I feel like they eat better than I do?”
Valerie grunted. “Because you could brown that in a skillet and have an excellent meal. Trust me. I have to make them fresh food each day. Rice. Raw chicken. Carrots. Celery.” She ticked the ingredients off on her fingers. “And on Sundays, they get homemade dog biscuits dipped in white chocolate.” She opened a drawer to reveal a variety of cookie cutters. “In holiday-appropriate shapes, of course.”
Ethan blinked. His stomach growled.
“It’s all part of the job.” Valerie bumped the drawer closed with her hip.
He’d forgotten that she was house-sitting. For a while, he’d thought she was here to stay, and this was her house. She certainly moved through it as if she belonged here. He glanced over and saw a glass cookie jar with train-shaped dog biscuits arranged beautifully.
“I bet those dog biscuits would sell great at Charlotte’s store,” he pointed to the jar. “Charlotte sells things made locally all the time. There’s a lady who makes the earrings out of playdough or something.”
“Playdough?” Valerie asked dubiously.
