Page 50 of Tinsel & Tools
“Oh really?”
“Yes, and we should get back so he can finish his chapter,” I cut in.
“Yep. Books don’t write themselves.” Gavin laughed.
“All right. Have a good evening.” She gave Gavin a polite nod before moving on, stopping to ask another couple about their children.
Gavin waited until she was out of earshot. “So, Paige?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” he replied, still looking after her. “I’m just making sure I heard her right. That’s the woman I saw you with at Maple & Mug, isn’t it? When I first came to town. You two were on a date?”
I bent to brush snow off my boots. “You remember that?”
“I remember wondering if she was your girlfriend.” His mouth tugged before he added, “Guess not.”
“Nope. Just being a town hero,” I muttered. “We should focus on the tree.”
We walked deeper into the lot, the smell of fresh pine stronger in the cold air. Gavin circled a tall spruce, tugged at one of the lower branches, and stepped back. “This is the one.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It’s perfect.”
I crouched by the trunk with the saw in hand. “All right. Let’s take it home.”
We hauled the tree into the living room and got it settled in the stand in the corner next to the TV. Gavin stepped back, brushing pine needles from his shirt.
“Looks straight to me,” he remarked.
I got onto my stomach and tightened the bolts. “It’ll hold.”
“Good, because if it tips over in the middle of the night, I’m blaming you.”
“You’re the one who picked it.” I crawled out from under the tree.
He plugged in the first strand of lights and handed me the end. “You take that side.”
I moved to the opposite side of the tree. He started low, wrapping the cord around a branch before passing it across. I took it, worked it along my side, then gave it back. We went that way, back and forth, climbing higher a row at a time.
“Keep it even,” he warned.
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
“You just don’t like that my side looks better.”
He smiled. “Sure it does. Hand me the next strand of lights.”
I opened the box and passed it to him, and he plugged it in to the other, making the space a little brighter. We kept going until we got to the top.
“Not bad,” I praised.
“Not bad?” He opened a box of plastic ball ornaments and pressed one into my palm. “Let’s see if you can handle these.”
I hooked a few along the lower branches while he stretched higher. When his shirt pulled up as he reached, my eyes lingered before I caught myself.
