Page 6 of An Unexpected Christmas
And that’s when a low voice cuts through the air. “Bloody hell. Are you trying to electrocute yourself?”
I look up, and of course, Sam is standing there on my side of the street, wrapped in his dark coat and scarf, hair windswept like he’s posing for the cover ofMoody Recluse Monthly. His expression, however, is pure exasperation. One I’m pretty familiar with at this point.
“I’m fine!” I shout back, scrambling upright and dusting snow off my leggings. “Just a minor technical hiccup.”
He crosses the short distance closer to me, boots crunching on the fresh snow with that maddeningly calm stride of his, and before I can protest, he’s right there. “That wasn’t a hiccup. That is an electrical fire waiting to happen.”
I glare up at him, my hands settling on my hips. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I watched three YouTube tutorials before attempting this.”
His brows lift as he looks down, nostrils flaring. “Were any of them titledHow Not to Electrocute Yourself?”
I scowl, but my lips twitch, traitorous things that they are. “You’re hilarious.” Also yes, one video did have that title.
Without asking, he crouches where I’d been, tugging the cord free and inspecting the outlet. He pulls off his gloves, placing them neatly next to him, and I can’t resist needling him.“Careful,” I say sweetly. “I hear if you touch Christmas lights, they infect you with cheer and joy for the whole festive season.”
He pauses just long enough to shoot me a look over his shoulder, one brow arched. “Then it’s a miracle I’ve survived this long with you across the street.”
“Don’t worry, It’s only terminal if you start humming Mariah Carey.”
I swear he lets out a snort, but covertly covers it by turning away from me. “How did you guess what I sing in the shower?”
The corner of my mouth curves, heat creeping into my cheeks. “Please. You’d combust before you made it through the first verse.”
“Guess you’ll never know,” he says with a hint of humor in his voice. I like it, if I can make this man laugh, I’m pretty sure I have all the Christmas magic in the town in my very hands. “Do you have any tools out here?”
“Hold, please.” Reaching behind the sleigh, I pull out my toolbox before passing it to him.
He flips the box open with efficiency, and that somehow makes it hotter than it should be. “Can you make sure you disconnect the power cord completely, as much as I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing me electrocuted, it’s not on my wish list for today.”
I roll my eyes, but obey, yanking the plug from the outlet. “You’re safe. For now.”
He leans over, and I do the same. There’s a tangle of wires at the base of the reindeer, ones that I’d optimistically jiggled with the hope of a Christmas miracle. No such luck.
His breath mists in the cold, mingling with mine, his hands flex and loop around the leg of the light, and suddenly my brain short-circuits with thoughts that have nothing to do with electricity.Stop that, right now.
He wiggles something free, inspects it, and I pretend I know exactly what we’re both looking at.
“Looks like your fuse blew.”
“Oh, yeah, the fuse. The video said something about that. Is it terminal?”
That earns me a little snort laugh—I definitely have magic in me today to get that out of him. He digs through my toolbox, and holds something between his fingers. “Nope. You’ve got a spare right here. I can save the deer.”
“The reindeer,” I correct. “His name is Rudolph.”
“Of course it is,” he says, fighting a smirk.
The reindeer flickers back to life, glowing steadily this time. He sets the tools aside, rising to his full height, brushing snow from his coat like the whole thing cost him nothing.
“You make it look easy,” I say before I can stop myself.
“It was easy,” he replies, tone clipped but not unkind. “You just didn’t want to admit you needed help.”
My arms fold instinctively, part defense, part keeping my racing heart contained. “I didn’taskfor help.”
“No,” he says, meeting my gaze at last, eyes shadowed but steady. “But you didn’t stop me either.”
The words hang between us, heavier than the snow-filled clouds pressing down above us. For a moment, I forget the cold. Forget the ridiculous reindeer now beaming smugly beside us. It’s just him, close enough I can see the frost melting into his hair, and the quiet certainty in his voice that makes it sound like he’s talking about more than faulty wiring.
