Page 25 of Rocky Mountain Desire
Matt passed over the list and she eyed it carefully. “It will take a few minutes.”
“No rush.”
He was rolling up his sleeves again, and she turned away to avoid staring. Damn, damn,damn. Why did her body do this? All the bubbling interest she kept hoping for with Clay burst out from wherever it had been hiding and rocked her with frustration.
Matt laid a hand on her arm. “Where are the shelves?”
Confusion swirled for a moment before she connected the dots.Oh. Bloody. Hell.“You’re my Secret Santa?”
He waggled his brows. “Ho ho ho.”
This wasn’t happening. “There’s a mistake. I didn’t sign up for the program. You can go and help someone else.”
Matt shook his head. “Sorry. You have shelves, I have tools and time. I’m going to build them. You have any specific instructions? Then I’ll get out of your hair and get started.”
The fact he ignored her protests added fuel to the fire. She managed not to stomp to his side, aware of the customers still wandering the small shop. Hope grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close enough she could whisper. “I don’t. Need. Your help.”
He frowned then shrugged in dismissal. “You were on the list—”
“I didn’t sign up. It’s a mistake.”
Matt didn’t hesitate. “But you do have shelves that need to be assembled?”
Blast.She didn’t want to lie. “I do, but they can wait.”
“As your friend, I’d be honoured to put them together for you.”
The twinkle of mischief in his eyes told her he knew damn well whipping out thefriendcard would push her buttons.
Her anger still simmered, which was enough to help excuse the flush of sexual frustration that rolled over her every time he got within striking distance.
A customer waved in her direction, and Hope gave up. “Fine. Thank you. I want them three across the north wall and one beside the back door.”
Matt tipped an imaginary hat and strode away, whistling a Christmas tune. She dragged her gaze off his butt and hurried to deal with her customer, even as she plotted revenge.
He worked as quietly as he could, the teeny screws giving him ample grief and plenty of time to reflect on exactly why he was doing this crazy task in the first place. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have chores to do at the ranch.
But when he’d overheard Clay talking at the hardware shop the day before, the seeds had been planted. When his mom had shoved the shopping list into his hand this morning and as good as pushed him into Hope’s path, there was no way he could resist. His response to sneak into her shop ahead of the guy might be unreasonable, maybe even childish.
Fuck if he’d let some overgrown grease monkey make points with Hope by assembling her shelves. Maybe he hadn’t known about the Secret Santa deal until a couple days ago. He knew enough to get the job done before Clay set foot on the premises.
He moved another pile of boxes to the side so he could manoeuvre the second shelf into place—she must have had some kind of a storm happen in the back recently. Either that or she was secretly messy, although he’d never have guessed that from the way her house and the outside shop were organized.
The front-door chime rang again and again. The sounds all reinforced this was a different kind of workplace than he was used to. There were no noises from the animals or rumbling engines. Instead there was laughter and conversation and the steady undertones of Christmas carols drifting through it all.
Then things got quiet for a while followed by a low rumble of a male voice entering the picture. Matt considered poking his head out of the storage area to see who’d come in, but he was near enough to being done with the final shelf he resisted.
When they moved closer, Hope’s and Clay’s individual voices came clear.
“You like vegetable soup? I got turkey sandwiches and coleslaw as well.”
“Sounds good. You can put it on the table there and I’ll get us plates. If someone comes in, I’ll have to go and help them.”
“That’s fine, but that’s why I waited until after one, because most everyone else is off their lunch break now. You might have a few minutes free.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the shop yourself?”
“Nahh. Dad and the guys, we all take turns for breaks. I arranged mine for the afternoon.”
