by Janice Lynn
“Not these things,” he promised.
She seemed to be considering what he said, then asked, “Do you see yourself going back into the military?”
If only.
“No.”
“With what little you’ve said, I sense you liked being in the Army and have the utmost respect for the military.” She pinned him with her gaze. “Why aren’t you there now?”
“Things.”
“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
Talking with Sarah was easy. Too easy. Easier than talking to the therapist the Army had made him work with for months after coming back to the States. But no matter who was listening, some things were better left unsaid.
Not looking up from where he worked, he shook his head. “No.”
“Because what you did was top secret and you’d have to take me into custody if you did?” she teased, obviously wanting to lighten the tone.
“I think you have me confused with a federal agent. I was an Army Ranger. Totally different.”
“And before that you were a carpenter.”
“My stepfather is a carpenter.” He glanced toward her, saw that she was studying him with big, curious brown eyes. “You spoke with him when you checked my references. But, yes, I worked as a carpenter prior to joining the Army.”
“I didn’t realize your reference was your stepfather. He never said anything to that effect.”
Dipping his brush into the paint, Bodie eyed her. “Does it matter that he was one of my references?”
“I suppose not.” She shook her head. “You told me you’d only be in Pine Hill for a few weeks because of another job. Is that a carpentry job, too?”
He chuckled. “Not hardly.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll be working for a security company.”
“That’s right. Your other reference told me you’d be working with him. Will you be a security guard?”
He supposed she could call it that, so he nodded. iSecure had a lot of different levels. On the surface, they provided security to bigwigs. That was all Sarah needed to know.
“The company will give me the opportunity to travel and do what I love.”
“Which is?”
What was it that drew him to iSecure other than Lukas? Of all the options he’d considered, iSecure was the one that had held his interest. He hadn’t really questioned why. Not until Sarah asked.
“Protecting people.” It was true. He liked to protect people. He wasn’t sure that was what had appealed most about the Army, but it was an aspect he had enjoyed.
“Hmmm,” she said, wiping her paintbrush back and forth as she helped cut the corners in.
“Hmmm, what?”
“I was thinking we’re a lot more alike than I would have guessed.”
“How’s that?” He didn’t see it. She was sugar cookies on Christmas morning, and he was coal in a stocking. Not alike at all.
“We both like taking care of and helping others. Only, I want to do that in Pine Hill, and you want to do it wherever you’re ordered to go.”
That about summed it up.
He turned to tell her so, but she’d moved close, presumably to dip her paintbrush into the paint, but instead stood waiting for him to turn.
Because the moment he faced her, she dabbed her paintbrush toward him.
His instinct was to grab her wrist and stop her, but he allowed her to proceed, and was thankful he prevented himself from hurting her at the unexpected paint smeared across his cheek.
Delight shone in her eyes at what she’d done.
Bodie touched his wet cheek. “What was that for?”
Rather than answer, she dabbed her brush toward him again.
Again, he forced himself to let her. Her tickled smile was worth it.
Staring at her dancing eyes, her challenging smile, her poised paintbrush, that melting, cracking sensation hit him again.
Looking at her, he felt young, unjaded, unscarred. As if nothing bad had ever happened to him or ever could. Her barely-contained joy served as a balm to everything raw inside him.
“You know this means war, right?”
Her lips twitched. “Because you’re a soldier?”
“Because you deserve to pay for getting paint on me.”
“Oops.” She gestured to the smudges of paint on his cheek. “Did I do that?”
He rolled his eyes. “You church girls. Always playing innocent.”
“Sometimes we are innocent,” she defended, her eyes full of challenge.
“Not this time.” The brush in Bodie’s hand begged to retaliate, to dab a big glob of paint right across Sarah’s pert little nose, to start a playful paint war with her as he’d threatened.
Then he reminded himself he wasn’t here to play with Sarah or to dabble in whatever this feeling was that he experienced when she was near. He was here to help her do a job.
Not play in paint.
“You’re chicken, aren’t you?”
Her taunt had Bodie laughing out loud. Seriously? They were back to that?
“You think I’m afraid of you?”
“Terrified,” she teased, waving her brush at him. “You know if you come closer, I’ll have you wearing Seafoam Green all over.”
He shouldn’t have done what he did next. Lord knew he’d been taunted in the past with lots worse than wearing a shade of paint. Taunts he hadn’t given in to.
But he gave in to Sarah and grabbed hold of her arms, gently removing her paint brush from her hands while she squirmed, squealed, and tried to keep him from doing so.
Amidst laughter, hers and his, he got the brush from her.
“You wouldn’t,” she accused when he wielded the brush toward her.
“I’m going to.”
She backed up, bumping against the bare wall they were supposed to be painting. Her eyes were big, but not with fear. Excitement shone brightly in them.
Her lips parted. “I have really sensitive skin. I’ll probably break out if you do and then be all rashy during Christmas. Please don’t.”
Bodie hesitated, studying her. Was she telling him the truth?
Just as he was deciding she might be, she grabbed the brush out of his hand.
“Ha. Gotcha,” she claimed, doing a little happy dance while hiding the brush behind her back.
“I guess you did.” He laughed, acknowledging that he’d been played. “You know, I’m not sure you helping paint is getting me closer to being done.”
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s a lot more fun this way.”
“That it is.”
Chapter Six
“Oh, Christmas candy canes!”
At Sarah’s good-girl substitute for swearing coming from somewhere else in the house, Bodie glanced up from where he was sealing the tile in Aunt Jean’s suite.
Grateful his hip and leg held up after his extended time squatted on the shower floor, and that his body was getting stronger and stronger each day, he straightened to check out his work. When he had made sure everything was up to par, he went to see what had frustrated her.
“Please answer,” she said, while flipping through a stack of mail on the kitchen island countertop. Was she talking to him? To Harry?
The dog might have stayed constantly at his side at Lukas and Kelly’s, but Harry had a thing for Sarah. These days, the dog was as likely to be found lying at her feet as at Bodie’s.
He didn’t blame him. Sarah was entertaining.
Like her jolly expletive moments before.
Cellphone to her ear, she turned toward him as he entered the kitchen, which was where she spent most of her time. Whether cooking or crafting, working on her special projects or poring over the internet for bed and breakfast ideas, she preferred the room she’d made into her dream kitchen.
No
wonder. The room was an extension of her. Warm, cozy, inviting, functional, productive, happy.
He wasn’t exactly sure how a room could be happy, but this one was. Although he found the room uplifting, it was also a stark reminder of just how much he contrasted with everything about Sarah.
“Oh, sorry,” she lowered the cellphone and pushed a button to hang up on whomever she’d been trying to reach. She set the phone down on the kitchen island. “You heard that?”
He nodded.
“I forget how good your hearing is.”
Not as good as it had once been, thanks to the IED.
Pushing the thought from his mind, Bodie swallowed and focused on the woman leaned against the island. She looked like a pretty Christmas package with her red and green outfit with its gold buttons, not to mention the gold ribbon tied in her dark hair and hanging near her earlobes.
“You didn’t want me to hear your Christmas cursing?”
Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t. I just—”
“Calm down, Snowflake. I’m just teasing.”
Eyes still wide, she gave him an odd look. “What did you call me?”
“Snowflake.” He hadn’t really thought about his use of the word, but it fit her in ways that went beyond the ornaments that meant so much to her. She was special. Beautiful. One of a kind. Pristine.
But she wasn’t icy. Not cold or even tepid.
Sarah was warm. Everything about her welcoming and kind and heating one’s insides.
“Like hot chocolate.”
That was Sarah. As unique as a snowflake. As warmly welcoming as hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night.
“Snowflake like hot chocolate?”
Her confusion had grown tenfold. No wonder. He was confusing himself.
At the thought of trying to explain himself, Bodie came as close to blushing as he’d done in decades.
“That some wild concoction you’ve come up with?” she teased, her expression full of delight as she regarded him from across the kitchen island.
“Just a nickname.”
“Snowflake like hot chocolate,” she repeated, amusement evident. “That’s certainly different.”
“You want to be called the same thing as everyone else?”
“Sarah is a common name, so something with more pizzazz for a while would be nice.”
“Maybe I’ll just stick with my initial impression.”
“Which was?”
“Drill Sergeant.”
She burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”
Deciding he’d dilly-dallied long enough, Bodie walked to a cabinet and took out a glass under the guise of getting a drink.
“You know,” she mused, her voice pulling him back to her, “I misjudged you.”
He walked to the faucet and filled his glass half full. “How’s that?”
“When I first met you, I thought you had a smiling problem.”
He did have a smiling problem.
“I was wrong. About that,” she continued. “But I was right about how your smile reaches your eyes and lights up your face. I really like when you smile.”
Her admission had his lips curving upward. Not because he thought his smile reached his eyes and lit up his face, but because not smiling around Sarah seemed impossible. He should have nicknamed her the Smile Whisperer.
Leaning against the counter, he took a drink of his water and regarded her. “You thought all that when we met?”
Her cheeks a little pink, she nodded. “You have a beautiful smile, Bodie. You should wear it all the time.”
“Kind of like the one you were wearing when I came in here?” he teased, ignoring what she’d said about him.
Shoulders dropping, she gave a frustrated huff. “Yeah, well, I was trying to call the man who promised to help me load the ornaments for the Great Christmas Ornament Hunt. He texted to cancel.”
“The what?” The name made it sound like she was talking about some kind of big, international event. One he’d never heard of.
“Last year when I took over Special Projects, I started a new tradition at the On-The-Square Christmas Festival.” She looked quite pleased with herself. “A Christmas ornament hunt for the good boys and girls of Pine Hill.”
“Like an Easter egg hunt?”
Looking as excited as a kid, she clasped her hands together. “Yes, only with ornaments that open and have prizes hidden inside them. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Because I started the tradition last year.” Smiling, she gave him a duh look. “I wanted something fun to do at the festival during the afternoon before the parade and tree lighting. There are photos with Santa but not a lot of other things for kids to do. The town is working to make the Christmas festival an all-day event in hopes of reviving the town square and increasing business there. The ornament prizes range from candy to items donated by church members to things donated by local businesses. Any kind of toy, game, gift card, and whatever that can fit inside something this big.” She held her hands out just so.
Bodie stared at her, wondering if she was for real or pulling his leg. He’d known she got into the season and all that, but an ornament hunt? He supposed if she had a Present Pick game, she could have an ornament hunt.
“I found the idea online and thought it seemed great.”
“It sounds like something you’d like.”
Her hands went to her hips. “It was a big hit.”
“I’m sure it was.” Amusement laced his words.
“You’ll see.”
At her words, her eyes brightened, and she got a look that set warning bells off in his head.
“You will see.” She looked proud of herself. “Because you, Bodie Lewis, are going to attend your first ornament hunt.”
Bodie shook his head. “I don’t do ornament hunts or holidays, remember?”
“Yeah, well, it’s time you started.”
He continued to shake his head.
“You’ll have fun.”
“At an ornament hunt? I’m a little out of the appropriate age range.”
Her chin lifted. “That’s never stopped me from enjoying something fun.”
“Your point is?”
She laughed. “Okay, so I’m a kid at heart, but what’s wrong with that?”
Not one thing. But everything childish in him had died long ago.
“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?”
Incoming. Take cover. That’s what all his training warned.
So when he heard himself ask, “What is it you want me to do for the rest of the evening, Sarah?” he could only blame himself for whatever came next.
He knew better. He deserved whatever she served.
“Well…” She got a hopeful look in her big brown eyes. “If you were free, I’d love help carrying Aunt Jean’s Christmas decorations down from the attic.”
“What’s the rush? Thanksgiving was just two days ago,” he reminded in case she’d forgotten.
“That’s right. And today is the day I start decorating for Christmas.”
“Isn’t it too soon?”
But he knew better. This wasn’t too early for the town of Pine Hill. There had already been decorations when he’d arrived in town and he’d noticed more going up each morning and night as he made his way to and from his hotel.
Nor was it too early for Sarah, apparently, because she was headed toward the stairs and on up to the attic, no doubt.
She turned and smiled at him in a way that had him knowing he’d be following her up those stairs and doing her bidding.
“I don’t know whatever possessed you to come to Pine Hill,” she said, her eyes full of gratitude and something Bodie couldn’t quite label, but that made him feel like his brain was in a vise
, preventing logical thought. “But you’ve been a lifesaver, Bodie. What would I have done without you chancing upon our little town this Christmas season?”
Her question made him uncomfortable as he wondered if he should tell her about what had truly brought him to Pine Hill. But telling her now felt awkward and out of place. And he couldn’t regret his decision not to tell her back at the start, when she’d first mentioned the job. If she’d known his sole purpose in accepting her job offer was to repay her kindness, she might not have let him.
Without him, Hamilton House wouldn’t be ready for an open house on Christmas, and that would have been horrible. It meant so much to Sarah, and he wanted to give her that piece of her dream.
“You’d have carried your own Christmas decorations down?” he suggested, following her up the stairs and wondering what he’d gotten himself into, when all he’d meant to do when he came to Pine Hill was to tell Sarah thank you and leave.
But now, when he left—as he’d have to do, sooner or later—how much would he be leaving behind?
Sarah had been both looking forward to and dreading pulling out Aunt Jean’s decorations. She loved Christmas, loved seeing the house decked in garland and bows, loved seeing the twinkling lights.
Loved seeing the ornaments they’d made together over the years.
But the last time she’d seen these decorations had been after she’d taken them down from her aunt’s tree and packed them. She’d helped do so for the past several years, but never with a heavy heart.
Last year, she hadn’t known what would happen to Hamilton House, to Aunt Jean’s things, with her passing.
Aunt Jean had willed everything to her. There had been just enough left in her aunt’s accounts that when it was settled, Sarah had inherited the house and its contents free and clear.
Contents that included her aunt’s precious decorations.
The idea of decorating without Aunt Jean had been weighing on her heart, but unpacking the decorations with Bodie didn’t seem nearly as daunting.
Was that why she’d asked him to help her? As a distraction?
She tried telling herself it was, but couldn’t convince herself. He was a great distraction, but that hadn’t been her motivation.
Being with Bodie had. Which came with its own set of problems, but tonight Aunt Jean’s decorations took precedence.
