How do YOU think the lights are going?
Three dots blink for a few seconds.
Good, I hope?
Before I can respond, another message appears.
I mentioned it to Ronan when he stopped by earlier. About you putting up the lights. I may have suggested that he stop by to help. I hope you’re not mad.
I shake my head in silent response. Even though I’ve told Hazel plenty of times that I don’t need a man, I can’t be mad at her for meddling. Not when her intentions were good.
And maybe, judging from your response to his hands on you,the annoying inner voice whispers,she’s on to something.
Choosing not to follow that train of thought, I focus on my reply instead.
No, I’m not mad. But I told you, I’m perfectly happy being single.
Hazel’s reply appears quickly.
So is he there?
I have to laugh at her persistence.
Yes. He’s here. He’s helping with the lights, just like you asked him to. Probably wishing he was home, relaxing, though.
The three dots blink again.
I’m sure he’s not. Ronan’s not like that.
No, he probably isn’t. From what I know of Ronan, he’s spent the better part of his life helping people. Risking his life for them, even.
But still. Putting up Christmas lights isn’t a life or death matter. It’s not protecting innocent women from stalkers and vengeful criminals, like some of the cases Green Mountain Guardians takes on. It’s not traveling into foreign countries on top-secret missions where death is a real possibility.
No, Hazel didn’t tell me that part. I looked it up online not long after she got together with Alec, curious about what a Green Beret did. Then she let it slip one time that Ronan was actuallya Delta, so I had to look that up as well. There wasn’t a ton of information available, but it was enough to understand just how much danger they put themselves in.
I’m just about to reply when I hear the familiar sound of the school bus pulling to a stop outside.
Crap!
I jump up from the couch. All the sore spots on my body groan in protest.
Haley’s home. And Ronan’s outside.
Not that I’m concerned about the two of them being together. But Haleylovesto talk, and I’m not sure Ronan’s prepared for that. Plus, if he’s already up on the ladder, and she gets in the way… She wouldn’t mean to, but she’s still a little girl and as smart as she is, she might get it into her mind that she’s helping instead of interfering.
But when I burst outside, at least part of my worry is eased. Ronan is still standing on the ground, just beside a shiny metal ladder that’s now propped against my house. The coil of lights is in the snow by his feet, and he’s holding the open staple gun in his hands, as if he was just inspecting it.
Was, is the operative word. Because there’s no way he’s getting any work done with Haley in front of him, chattering away.
As I draw closer, I hear her say, “I wanted to get the twinkle lights for the house. The ones that have all the different patterns. So one day, we could have blinking, and another solid. Odd days, we could do color, and even days could be white. But Mom said we already hadtheselights, so we should use them. I guess they’re okay, too. But I’m going to save my money for new ones next Christmas. Mom said maybe I could put the lower lights on myself when I’m ten. I’ll be ten in April. So that’s not too far away. I tried to convince Mom that I was old enough to help with the lights already, but?—”
“Haley,” I interrupt. As they both turn towards me, I have to swallow back a laugh at the flummoxed expression on Ronan’s face. He’s met Haley in town before, but only in passing. He’s never been exposed to her chatterbox ways before, and even as her loving mom, I have to admit sometimes it can be a lot to handle.
“Mom!” Haley drops her backpack on the ground and hurries over to me. She flings her arms around me and squeezes hard. As hard as I try to hide my wince, Ronan notices, and his expression shifts to one of concern.
“Hey, Hales,” I reply while gently extricating myself. I give her a quick kiss on the top of her head. “How was art club?”
“Good! We painted.” Which I should have realized already, given the speckles of green paint on her face. “I can’t tell you what I’m making,” she continues. “It’s going to be a present. For Christmas.”
