A Lot Like Christmas

by Kait Nolan

  Before she could get her neurons firing again, he was halfway back up the walk. “Elf Girl?”

  Ryan turned around, still grinning. “It seemed appropriate, what with all the Christmas cheer. Bonus points if you show up tomorrow with striped tights and a hat.”

  Shaking her head with a rueful smile, she shut the door. The man had no idea who he was talking to.

  I should’ve kissed her.

  The moment he’d walked away from Hannah’s door last night, he’d wanted to kick himself. The kiss that hadn’t been had haunted his dreams and reminded him it had been way too long since he’d really wanted to kiss a woman and take his time about it. Which was exactly why he hadn’t done it. He didn’t live here. He wouldn’t be here longer than another couple of weeks. Hannah Wheeler deserved better than the short-term attentions of a guy like him. But knowing he’d done the right thing hadn’t stopped him from wondering how she’d taste, how that long, silky hair would feel in his hands. It hadn’t stopped him from feeling like she was the best kind of surprise on Christmas morning—the gift you didn’t know you wanted until it showed up pretty and perfect with a big red bow. Which just had him picturing her in that big red bow—and nothing else.

  “For a guy who’s spent all morning cleaning out flower beds and burning yard trash, you’re in an awfully good mood.” Percy’s voice pulled him out of his musings.

  Just as well. Fresh from the shower, Ryan peeked out the back door to make sure the smoldering remains of the burn pile were well-contained. “What makes you say that?”

  “You’ve been whistling.”

  Had he? It didn’t sound like him, but he had been thinking about Hannah and that smile of hers while he worked.

  Percy smirked. “Reckon that has something to do with a certain little brunette you had dinner with last night.”

  Ryan didn’t even dignify that with a response, instead moving past his uncle into the kitchen to grab the pitcher of tea from the fridge.

  “I told ya you needed a woman.”

  “I do not have a woman. Nor will I be here long enough to acquire one.” And if he regretted that a little, well, he was only human, and he’d enjoyed Hannah’s company. He poured a glass and shoved the pitcher back into the fridge a little rougher than necessary.

  “Mmmhmm.” Percy just continued to watch him with eyes that were too shrewd.

  This was all his fault. Ryan hadn’t been thinking about a woman at all until his uncle had brought it up. Now he’d probably be taking images of one back with him, whether he wanted to or not. Not ideal considering he’d probably never see Hannah again after he left Wishful. But saying anything about that to Percy would open the door to merciless teasing and additional attempts at matchmaking. Ryan needed to do some more investigating himself to see whether his uncle’s mysterious benefactor did indeed have a little crush on him. If she did, well, some diversionary tactics were in order.

  The doorbell rang, saving Ryan from having to answer. He gestured to Percy with his glass as he headed to the door. “Behave yourself.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Even as he fixed the older man with a quelling stare, a part of Ryan was happy to see the lighter side. If trying to play matchmaker would help pull Percy out of his funk, he’d suffer—or maybe enjoy—the consequences.

  Hannah stood on the front porch, an impish smile making those dimples wink. Perched atop her head was a red and green striped hat—with elf ears attached to the sides.

  Though rusty with disuse, his own mouth tugged up into an answering smile. “You found your ears.”

  “Seemed appropriate.”

  Abruptly, he took in the rest of her, realizing her arms were laden with so many bags she shouldn’t have been able to keep her feet. Reaching forward to relieve her of the burden, he noted there was no car in the driveway. “How did you get all this here?”

  She dialed up that ray of sunshine smile. “I walked, silly.”

  Ryan blinked. The year-long ban on driving had been up for a couple of months. Did this mean she hadn’t started again? Telling himself it wasn’t his business, he curled his fingers around the entire wad of bag handles in her left hand. “Give it up, Hercules. Why didn’t you call? I’d have come to pick you up.”

  “Well, I didn’t have your number, and it’s really not that heavy.” She released her grip and he was surprised to find she was right. The load wasn’t anywhere near what he expected.

  “What’s in here anyway?”

  “Wrapped packages. I still need to put bows on.”

  “Did you remember to put the presents in the boxes?”

  “They’re for decoration, not gifts. Just trust me.” Hannah stepped past him into the house. “Hey Percy. Are you ready to get holidayed up?”

  Percy’s face lit up with something that might have been actual pleasure at the sight of her. “The tree has been soaking up water on the back porch since yesterday. The stand and everything else is in the attic.”

  “I cleared a path to the ladder in the garage,” Ryan told her.

  “Excellent. Let me just set all these down and make a stop in the kitchen. I brought cookie dough.”

  “Cookie dough?” That was definitely hope in the old man’s voice.

  “You can’t decorate for Christmas without cookies and cocoa. And what’s the point of being related to the baker in town if you can’t filch cookie dough from the supply in the freezer?”

  Ryan set down the bags beside hers in the entryway. “I like the way you think.”

  She switched the oven on to heat. “Okay, let’s start hauling stuff down.”

  Percy started to shuffle into the living room. “I’ll just put on my shoes.”

  “You’re not going up that ladder.” Ryan hated the mutinous turn of his expression. “You were dizzy this morning. If you fell and injured yourself, that would put a serious cramp in these decorating plans.”

  Percy huffed. “Fine.”

  “Actually, I was thinking you could hook us up with some music,” Hannah suggested. “Do you have a radio or CD player?”

  His lips twitched. “I expect I could manage something.”

  She beamed. “Wonderful. Then we’ll get started bringing stuff down from the attic.”

  “Tree stand is in the northwest corner.”

  “I’m on it,” Ryan promised.

  He preceded Hannah up the ladder, groping around until he found the chain and tugged it. Dim light illuminated only part of the space. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  In answer, he hauled himself up the rest of the way and made room for her. She poked her head through the floor. “Oh my.”

  “And I thought the garage was bad.”

  The attic was full to the brim with stuff. The detritus of forty plus years of living in the same place. Boxes, trunks, and bins were stacked neatly along the sides, with an assortment of furniture, ancient luggage, and sporting equipment that probably dated back to when Percy and Janie had been newlyweds wedged between. There was barely room to walk between the rows.

  Hannah climbed up the rest of the way, taking his hand for balance when he offered. “Well, he said the tree stand is in the northwest corner. Let’s start with that and hope the rest of the Christmas stuff is nearby.” Whipping out her phone, she swiped on the flashlight and edged toward the front corner of the house.

  “Hold up. I should probably go first. I don’t know what kind of shape the floors are in. Nobody’s been up here in God knows how long.”

  “It’s fine. I’m walking along the beams.”

  He hurried behind her, having to turn sideways to ease between the stacks of boxes. All this stuff needed going through, too. That was likely more than he’d manage in his time here. He’d clean up and clear out the garage, fix anything that needed fixing around the house to ensure Percy’s safety, and put his mother and brothers on the rest. Let them fight the battle over what needed to be donated or tossed.

  “Good Lord, the
re must be at least sixteen boxes of decorations over here,” Hannah observed. “And here’s the stand.”

  “If you can start passing things back to me, I’ll make a stack by the ladder.”

  They got into a rhythm, transferring boxes from one space to the next. When they filled the small area of empty floor by the ladder, they set up yet another chain so that she could pass boxes down to him on the ground. He made an effort not to watch her ass during the process, but really, it was a lost cause when she filled out those skinny jeans like a gift from God. Once they’d hauled the first lot into the foyer, they went back and repeated the process.

  “Is that everything?” he asked.

  She held her phone up high. “I think so. Let me just check this back row of boxes.”

  A sharp crack of splintering wood echoed through the attic. Even as she yelped, he leapt forward, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her back before she could plunge through the floor and the ceiling below. Her phone clattered across the plywood.

  “You okay?”

  “I…yeah.” Her voice was level enough, but her hands had fisted in his shirt, hanging on, and her body trembled against his in the wake of the adrenaline dump.

  The light from wherever her phone landed cast crazy shadows on her face as she looked up at him, her pupils blown wide, and Ryan forgot for a second that it had been a mere fall he’d saved her from. His own pulse was hammering with more than just adrenaline, and he couldn’t quite stop his hands from sliding over her hips and partway up her spine to pull her closer. She licked her lips, flattening her palms against his chest.

  Just one taste…

  He started to close the distance between them.

  “Everything okay up there?” Percy’s voice echoed up from the garage, as effective as a bucket of ice water. “I thought I heard a crash.”

  “It’s fine,” Ryan called back, not taking his eyes off Hannah’s. “Some of the attic flooring is rotten. I’ll fix it later. Nobody’s hurt.”

  “We’d best get to it. Lots of work to do.” Flashing a wry smile, she stepped back.

  The keen edge of disappointment sliced through him at another opportunity lost.

  Chapter 6

  Hannah backed away from Ryan before she did something crazy like leap back into his arms and climb him like a tree. Scooping up her phone, she backed down the ladder, lifting her gaze to his just before her head cleared the entrance. He was still standing where she’d left him, a hungry expression in his eyes. Her cheeks heated. She ducked her head, but not before his lips curved into a smile.

  Needing a chance to find her composure after the near miss of falling through the floor—sure, it was the near miss and not the near kiss—she directed Ryan and Percy outside to fit the tree into the stand while she began slicing cookies to bake.

  She definitely hadn’t imagined it this time. They’d been having a Moment, damn it. Ryan had been seconds away from kissing her, and then—Perseus Interruptus. Fifteen months since she’d been kissed. Longer than that since anyone had tempted her for more. She’d been fine with that until him. And now she was supposed to work alongside him decorating this house and pretend she wasn’t thinking about what those muscles she’d felt beneath her hands would look like without a shirt?

  Huffing out a breath, she arranged dough on the cookie sheet she’d unearthed. It would be fine. There was bound to be some other opportunity, right? And now that she knew she wasn’t imagining things, she could help create an opportunity. That wasn’t cheating, was it?

  The guys came back inside as she was sliding the tray of cookies into the oven.

  “What kind of cookies are those?” Percy asked.

  Because he sounded like a curious little boy, Hannah found a smile. “Ginger snaps. They’ll make the house smell like Christmas as we decorate.”

  “Are you ready for me to bring the tree inside?” If Ryan was still affected by the almost kiss, it didn’t show in his expression.

  Fine. Two could play at that game. “Let’s finish clearing the space.”

  Between the two of them, they shifted around living room furniture to make room in front of the big picture window, then hauled in the tree. Once the netting was cut and the branches sprang out, she directed him in making the minute adjustments necessary so that it stood straight and tall. He was a good sport through the process, lips curved in an indulgent smile. By the time she was happy with it, the buzzer was going off for the cookies.

  “Ryan, can you sort the stuff in the foyer into indoor and outdoor piles, while I deal with the cookies?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Hannah headed for the kitchen, trailed by her octogenarian shadow.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the boy was flirting,” Percy observed.

  “Is that an unusual state of affairs?” She pulled the cookies from the oven and began transferring them to the cooling rack she’d found earlier.

  “Not his default setting. Always has his mind on the mission. That’s his Delta Force training.”

  She bobbled a cookie. “Delta Force? He’s special forces?”

  “Didn’t mention that, huh?”

  “No.” Now his reticence at dinner last night made more sense. He was a certified badass.

  “He won’t brag on himself, so I’ll brag for him. He’s a special forces medical sergeant and a damned good one.”

  “Mmhmm, I’m so good you won’t let me examine you.” Ryan’s expression was clearly dialed to not amused as he joined them.

  “I got all my limbs still attached and no shrapnel sticking out of me. I’m not in need of your services,” Percy insisted.

  Hannah caught the faint tightening in Ryan’s jaw. She wanted to touch him, to soothe that stress away and make him forget about Percy’s careless words.

  “These cookies need a few minutes to cool,” she said. “Percy, weren’t you in charge of music?”

  “Reckon I was. I apologize.” He snatched a cookie from the rack and tossed it from hand to hand to cool as he walked out of the room.

  Because she wasn’t a woman who tended to ignore the urges of her heart, she crossed to Ryan and laid a hand on his arm. The muscles were corded with tension. His dark eyes fixed on hers. She didn’t say anything—didn’t know what to say—just ran her hand down his arm until her fingers could link with his. An offering of comfort. After a moment, his hand closed around hers, strong and warm.

  Jazz piano spilled out from the living room. Ryan canted his head to the side as if trying to identify the song. Hannah recognized it instantly.

  “A Charlie Brown Christmas. The Vince Guaraldi Trio.”

  One corner of his mouth kicked up. “You know, like, every Christmas song ever made, don’t you?”

  “Maybe not every one, but a lot. And come on, this is a classic Christmas soundtrack. Didn’t you watch A Charlie Brown Christmas as a kid?”

  “We were much more into A Christmas Story.”

  “That is only the worst Christmas movie ever made.”

  The other side of his mouth curved. “It’s a classic. I mean, obviously—they have an all day marathon of it every year.”

  “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” She called it a win when his eyes lost that haunted edge.

  “Friends,” he murmured. “Is that what we’re doing?”

  Fresh tension snapped between them, stealing her breath. How could he turn the mood so fast?

  “You two comin’?” Percy shouted.

  Something hot flickered in Ryan’s gaze.

  Oh, mercy. Finding her voice, Hannah managed to call back, “Just plating the cookies!” With one last squeeze of Ryan’s hand, she moved to make up a tray with still warm cookies and glasses of milk for everybody. Maybe the milk would cool the heat in her cheeks.

  The music, as it turned out, was from a fabulous vintage turntable and speakers. “I bought this system forty years ago. Spent a pretty penny. The speakers alone cost the earth.” Percy named a figure that
had her wincing, even now. “Thought my Janie was gonna kill me dead. But she loved music and it was something we enjoyed together.”

  “It sounds amazing. There’s nothing like real vinyl. It’s…I don’t know…warmer somehow.”

  “I haven’t listened to these in a long time,” Percy admitted. “My Janie, she used to have music on all the time. While she cooked or cleaned. Even while she gardened. She’d open the windows and play it loud enough half the street could hear. Thankfully the neighbors appreciated our taste in music.”

  Hannah laughed and began to open boxes. “That’s fortunate.”

  “Her favorite thing, though, was to put on something romantic after dinner and dance. She was a helluva dancer. I never could do much but sway and instigate the occasional spin, but she never minded.”

  The image he painted warmed her heart even as it made her ache for what he’d lost. What would it be like to have fifty years like that with someone you loved? Perilously close to tears, she turned to the business of things, tasking Ryan with untangling twinkle lights while she took inventory of what they had to work with.

  Percy helped her unpack things, telling stories about this ornament or that. In every word, every look, it was clear he adored his wife and missed her like a limb. For a while, she worried that all the memories would send him spiraling into grief. But each little anecdote, each new record, seemed to coax out a smile.

  “You remind me of her, with all that holiday cheer. Not even a grumpy old cuss like me can resist.”

  She couldn’t think of a higher compliment. As the latest album shifted into Frank Sinatra’s rendition of “The Christmas Song”, she put down the box of painted glass balls and held out a hand. “Will you dance with me, Percy?”

  His wrinkled cheeks pinked and he began to bluster.

  “Please?”

  “Well. All right.” He set aside the ornaments in his hands and curled his fingers around hers, settling his other hand lightly on her waist.

  As they began to circle to the music, awareness skated over her skin from the weight of Ryan’s gaze. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to dance with him, with that battled-hardened body pressed to hers, staring into those eyes that seemed to see straight into her soul.