For the next several hours, we work to transform the Johnsons’ yard into a winter wonderland. I string the icicle lights along the eaves of the house, creating a shimmering curtain of light…I hope. We don’t dare plug anything in until we’re all done for fear of alerting the Johnsons. Logan tackles the trees, wrapping them in multicolored strands that make them look like they’re glowing from within.
We hang oversized ornaments from tree branches. “This feels like one of those decorating challenges you see on TV where they have to make something blindfolded, or they’re given a weird element they have to incorporate into their design.”
He grins. “It’s kind of a fun challenge.” His eyes dip to my lips, and my heart stutters. Before either of us can do somethingunprofessional, I take a step back.
“I’m having a good time, too.” I laugh quietly and move on to the next project.
Garlands of pine and holly adorn the porch railing, filling the air with the fresh scent of evergreen. “What did you spray these with?” I ask as I sniff my gloves that are now covered in the smell.
He groans. “I can’t remember, but it’s never going away.”
As we work, we fall into an easy rhythm, anticipating each other’s needs and moving in sync.
Despite the cold, I feel warm from the inside out. Logan’s gentle teasing and warm smiles make my heart flutter in ways I’d almost forgotten it could.
We finish just after midnight.
“Are you ready to plug it in?” I ask.
He sucks air through his teeth. “Pray that it all works.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper a prayer. I open them at the exact moment Logan pushes the plug into the outlet. The lights kick on, and I gasp as a winter wonderland brightens around me. The trees twinkle with hundreds of lights, ornaments glitter in the early morning light, and a path of illuminated candy canes leads to the front door.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, awe evident in my voice.
Logan nods, a satisfied smile on his face. “It really is. Bailey, I can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve made such a difference for this family.”
I turn to face him, suddenly aware of how close we’re standing. “Wedid this,” I say softly.
Logan’s eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by the intensity of his gaze. Slowly, he reaches out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear, his touch sending shivers down my spine. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” he murmurs.
My heart is pounding so loudly that I’m sure he must be able to hear it. “Yeah,” I whisper, “we do.”
For a moment, we stand there, the air between us charged with unspoken words and possibilities. Someone jiggles the door handle, the sound so loud in the middle of the night.
“Run!” Logan whispers urgently, grabbing my hand. We dash across the yard, stifling our giggles as we duck behind a large snowbank. My heart races. They didn’t see us, did they?
We peer over the top of our snowy hideout just as the front door creaks open. Mr. Johnson emerges first, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His jaw drops as he takes in the transformed yard. Mrs. Johnson appears behind him, followed closely by their three children, all in their pajamas. The image is priceless, and I will never forget it.
“Oh my goodness,” Mrs. Johnson breathes, her voice carrying clearly in the still night air.
The youngest child, a little girl no more than five, lets out a squeal of delight. “Santa came early,” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I watch the family explore their newly decorated yard. The children’s laughter rings out like silver bells, their faces alight with wonder. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson hold each other close, their expressions a mixture of joy and disbelief. This, I realize, is Christmas. It’s that feeling that I miss every year because I’m so busy.
The intensity in Logan’s gaze makes my breath catch. For a moment, I’m lost in the depths of his green eyes, seeing the same wonder and joy reflected there that I feel in my own heart.
Reluctantly, we tear ourselves away from the heartwarming scene and make our way back to Logan’s truck. The cab is frigid as we climb in, our breath fogging up the windows. Logan starts the engine, and soon, blessed warmth begins to seep from the vents.
Exhausted but exhilarated, I can’t help but feel like this is the most important thing I’ve done in years. I want more of this feeling. I want more time with Logan.
I also want to sleep.
I settle against the door, not even caring that the window is as cold as ice.
Logan glances over at me. He chuckles. “Lightweight.” He squeezes my knee.
I huff. “Not all of us are used to hero work,” I mumble, my limbs already dropping into sleep mode. My eyes drift closed.
