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Shaun tried not to smile. It was hard. Very hard. Mochi was just so adorable and full of personality. “It doesn’t matter how cute you are, you’re still sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Mochi groaned.

Shaun knew his threat wouldn’t last long. He’d be lucky if Mochi lasted ten minutes on the floor before she climbed into bed and stole the covers.

“Okay. Let’s go. We have decorating to do. Correction, Leah and I have decorating to do while you snore on the couch.”

That seemed to cheer up Mochi. She led the way down the stairs. By the time Shaun stepped into the living room, Mochi was in front of Leah getting loved on.

“This is the last of it.” Shaun put the last box with the others.

Leah turned around. “Oh my. There’s so much.” She looked overwhelmed. “I’ve never known anyone who owned so many decorations.”

“What’s your plan of attack?”

She frowned as her gaze scanned the boxes. “I don’t have one.”

He felt bad for her. “Then may I suggest you open the boxes, see what’s in them, and then rearrange them by type of decoration?”

At first, she didn’t say anything, but eventually, she nodded her head. “All right.”

And so, they got started. He unloaded the boxes, and she figured out what to do with the stuff. Half of it received a turned-up nose and was quickly returned to the box.

When Shaun finally checked the time, he was surprised to find it was going on eleven o’clock. It didn’t feel like it should be that late.

Mochi disagreed. She was stretched out on the couch. Her chin rested on her paw, and her eyes were closed. There was the gentlest snore coming from her. Someone had worn herself out, playing with the other dogs.

His gaze swung around to Leah. She was sorting through a box. She straightened and yawned. Lines of exhaustion were written on her face.

He stepped over to her. “Why don’t we leave this until the morning?”

“But I can’t. I have guests arriving tomorrow.”

He glanced around at the mess of boxes. “What time are they supposed to check in?”

“Four.”

“Good. That will give us time to put up some of the decorations before they arrive.”

“A lot of these boxes can go back in the attic.”

“Why?”

“They are filled with ornaments.”

“Then we’ll get you a Christmas tree.” He tilted his chin upward. “And with these high ceilings, you’ll be able to get a tall tree.” When he saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears, he said, “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I…I just never had a Christmas tree.”

He wouldn’t call himself sentimental—not even close—but even to his ears that sounded sad. “Not even a little one.”

She swiped at her eyes. “My mother thought Christmas was just a retailers’ get-rich scheme.” She studied him for a moment. “What were your Christmases like?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “They weren’t a big deal.”

She continued to stare at him, as though she could see straight through him. “Come on. Tell me the truth. Did you have big fancy Christmases with all of the trimmings?”

He arched a brow. “Do you really want to know?” When she nodded, he said, “Well, my mother loved the holiday season. She waited until Black Friday, and then all of the decorations came out. My father would take my sister and I to a local tree farm, and we would cut down a tree. When we got home, we would decorate it. And in the evening we’d watch Christmas movies.”