Page 55 of The Snuggle is Real
“Oh, he’s inside. He’d just get all wet and muddy if I let him out.” I grabbed the door handle. “Come on in, but beware. This house is a little bit of a DIY project.”
“DIY?” Charlie asked as she followed me inside.
“Do-it-yourself,” Ford said. “It means he’s doing improvements to his house on his own.”
“Or trying,” I said with a little laugh.
Pepper was dancing in a circle—nails skittering as he fought for purchase on the old hardwood floors. They were solid but dull and scuffed, especially right in front of the door.
Charlie dropped down to pet him while Ford followed me farther into the living room. I’d set up my Christmas tree this week, glowing in front the window catty-corner from my forest green sofa and matching armchair with red throw pillows. A fluffy red rug spanned the floor between the furniture and my flat-screen TV on the wall.
But Ford’s gaze was on the ceiling. “The woodwork in here is amazing. It’s not often you see such intricate detail in crown molding.”
“Yeah, it’s got a lot of character.”
“Great bones,” he agreed. “Those staircase bannisters are beautiful.”
I nodded. “It just needs a little TLC, I guess.” I waved to the scuffed floors.
“Nothing a little refinishing couldn’t fix,” he said.
I nodded along as if I knew the first thing about refinishing floors. “It’s on my to-do list. Along with stripping the wallpaper and repainting upstairs.”
He winced. “Yeah, that’s never fun.”
I wiggled my scabbed index finger. “Don’t I know it.”
Ford’s forehead creased with concern. “What did you do to yourself?”
“Oh, I was just a klutz. The scraper slipped.”
Ford took hold of my hand, raising it for a closer look at the cut. His hands were large but gentle as he cradled mine, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe.
“You should be more careful,” he murmured. “If there was any rust on that scraper, make sure you’ve had a tetanus shot.”
I wet my lips. “Oh, uh… It was new. There was no, um, no… What was I saying?”
This man was frying my brain.
“No rust?” he asked, lips quirking in amusement.
“Right! No rust.” I tugged my hand from his before I melted into a puddle on my floor like the bits of snow still clinging to our shoes. “Want to see the rest of the house?”
I charged off without waiting for a response. Charlie and Pepper were locked into a little game where they each pounced at each other, so we left them playing in the living room.
“I knew the place needed some work when I bought it,” I said. “I just figured that I might not be here long, and it’d be a good opportunity to fix it up and resell it for more.”
“You’re not staying?” Ford asked.
I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s not that I’m planning to leave. But my job has taken me from place to place. I’m from the Ozarks, and there were only so many job opportunities. I had to take them where I could.”
“So that’s how you ended up here,” he said as we reached the top of the stairs. “I wondered.”
“You did?”
I didn’t really expect a guy like Ford to be curious about me. I was just his Holiday Hope Foundation connection. Sure, his kid liked my dog, and Ford was a friendly enough guy, but I was a blip in their lives. A means to an end. Right?
“I grew up here. I’m always curious about why anyone in their right mind would choose to move into a holiday greeting card.”
