Page 5 of Mistletoed with the Mountain Man
"Fuck," I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Whatever. I can handle this. Professional boundaries. Employer and employee. She's here to do a job, I'm paying her to do that job, and that's it.
Absolutely no fantasizing about what those sparkle-covered jeans would look like hanging over my bedpost.
No imagining the sounds she'd make if I backed her against the stone fireplace, pinned her wrists above her head, and?—
I cut off that train of thought with the discipline that's served me well for fifteen years in law enforcement.
Control. Focus. The task at hand.
Christmas decorations.That'swhat matters.
I head upstairs to the primary bedroom I've claimed, change into gym shorts and a t-shirt, and drop to the floor.
I do push-ups until my arms shake. Then planks until my core burns. Anything to redirect this energy instead of picturing how that gold-spun hair would look fanned across my pillow.
By the time I've showered and changed back into jeans and a long-sleeved knit shirt, I've got my head on straight again.
The sound of a vehicle on the drive sends me to the window. Nia's Jeep bounces up the road, its back seat and cargo area so loaded with boxes and supplies that I can barely see through the rear window.
I meet her outside just as she's opening the back hatch.
"Jesus, did you buy out every store in town?"
She grins at me over the top of an overflowing box. "You wanted magical, Deputy. Magical requires lots ofstuff."
I reach for part of her load. "And here, let me?—"
"I've got it!" She's juggling the box, a bag of ornaments, and a small wooden Christmas tree.
I watch her struggle for exactly three seconds before I simply take everything from her arms. "Nia."
"What? I can carry?—"
"I know you can." I gesture to the Jeep with my chin. "But I'm bigger, and there's a lot to unload. Let me help."
Her eyes narrow. "You're very bossy for someone who needs my expertise."
"Call it efficient delegation." I head for the cabin entrance. "Besides, you're the creative director. I'm just the manual labor."
"Ooh, I like the sound of that." She grabs more boxes and follows. "Creative director. Very official."
We make several trips, and with each one, the pristine great room transforms into a Christmas supply warehouse that exploded. Boxes everywhere, tissue paper trailing across the floor, pine needle breadcrumbs marking her path through the space.
My eye twitches.
I know I should leave it. Let her work. But my hands are already reaching for the broom I spotted in the utility closet earlier.
"Oh my god." Nia's voice stops me mid-sweep. "Are you seriously cleaning up right now?"
"There are pine needles everywhere."
"Yes, Deputy Giles. That happens when you bring trees and live garland inside." She props her hands on her hips, looking entirely too amused. "This is what creative mayhem looks like."
I set the broom aside. Sort of. “There's chaos, and then there's..."
"A disaster zone?" She offers.
