“Not if he wants supper any time soon,” Holt said. “It’s more than a one-person job. We’ll help.”
Mrs. Smith gave him a grateful smile and took a step toward the kitchen. “Supper will be ready in thirty minutes.”
Holt turned his attention to Caitlin, making her face warm at the way his gaze raked her body.
“You’d better put on something else,” he told her, shattering the illusion of his interest, “unless you want those clothes covered in sap and pine needles.”
She nodded. “I’ll go change and meet you outside.”
By the time Caitlin joined the men at the back door, they’d stacked more pine wreathes and roping nearby and were discussing the best way to bring the large fir tree tied atop the estate’s oversized truck into the house.
“I’ve got stands in the workroom at the end of the garages,” Farrell was saying, “but we need to trim the base and get it in water right after.”
“You know where they are. Why don’t you get the tools you need,” Holt told him. “Caitlin and I will pull the tree trunk far enough out of the tailgate for you to do the trimming.”
Farrell nodded and headed across the car park between the house and the set of garages.
Holt turned to her and grinned. “Ready for some tug-o-war?”
“Tugging on that?” She walked around the truck’s bed, sizing up the future Yule tree. With its limbs bound up for transport, it looked massive as well as tall, tied up over the truck’s cab. “How did you get it up there in the first place?”
“With help,” Holt admitted. “Mrs. Smith wanted a tree tall enough for the entryway, and a shorter one for the front room.”
“There are two trees in there?”
Holt grimaced and nodded. “The smaller one is underneath.” He studied their handiwork for a moment, then swore. “We can’t move anything until those lines are cut. It was tied down tight for the drive back.”
“Let’s take the truck around to the front entrance,” Farrell said, approaching them, a toolbox in one strong hand, a smaller tree stand under one arm and the larger one in his other hand.
“While you lads work on that, I’ll start moving the greenery indoors,” Caitlin offered.
Farrell shook his head. “It’ll be better off out here. The cold will keep it fresher, and it’ll be damp tonight as well. In the house, it would dry out before Mrs. Smith could decide how to use it.”
As soon as the taller tree’s trunk was trimmed and they’d placed it in its stand in the foyer, Mrs. Smith called them for dinner. “Ah, that looks grand,” she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye. “Now, eat first, then you can bring in the smaller one.”
After the meal and the smaller tree was set up, she set Caitlin and Holt to work decorating the trees while she worked on the wreaths Holt brought in earlier— and she directed them.
Caitlin had to admit she was having fun. Holt looked relaxed and happy, too. Especially when she had to climb the ladder to reach the upper part of the tree. He helped her up and steadied it, then helped her back down again, touching her more than he ever had at one time. She quite liked it. From the way his gaze darkened, he did, too. Out of sight of Mrs. Smith, behind the tree, he even snuck a few quick kisses.
Caitlin decided she rather much liked an American Christmas.
By the time the trees were done, Caitlin was elated— and exhausted. Holt looked drawn, and both Mrs. Smith and Farrell had left them alone thirty minutes earlier to go to their own beds. Caitlin settled on the foyer steps and patted the space beside her for Holt.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” The tree glowed with multicolored lights and glints of shiny glass ornaments among the boughs. Beyond it, in the front room, the smaller tree took pride of place in front of the window. Both trees would be visible to anyone approaching the house. A signal that things were improving in the estate, or so Caitlin hoped.
Holt nodded, his gaze on the trees, then he turned to her and took her hand. “Thank you for this.”
“Me? You were the one who agreed we should get the boxes of decorations down from the attic.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He looked satisfied with himself.
Caitlin stifled a laugh.
“And do you know what the best part of that decision is?” At her quizzical look, he raised their joined hands. “Spending time with you, doing something fun. Not working, not digging through history. Just…being. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought I was capable of that. Of enjoying that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She met his serious gaze with one of her own. “It was always in you. You just needed time away from everything in your past, your work, that lawsuit. Even though your past here wasn’t happy?—”
“It wasn’t always unhappy. And you have added a fresh layer of good memories.”
