“No comment.”
“C’mon then, Scrooge. You can’t sit there judging me all night.”
“Watch me,” I said, but he was already halfway up the ladder, stringing garland along the rafters.
“Don’t let anything fall in people’s drinks, Benedict.”
For a man who looked like he could bench-press a snowplow, he was surprisingly graceful. The muscles in his back flexed under the flannel as he reached up, and I had to force my gaze away, pretending to care deeply about rearranging the candy cane display.
“Careful,” I said, aiming for casual. “If you fall, I’m not dragging your body to the cemetery.”
He looked down, smirking. “You’d miss me too much.”
“Doubtful.”
“You sure? You look like you’re already picturing the funeral.”
“Fine,” I said, leaning on the counter. “Maybe a little.”
He grinned, eyes glinting in the warm light. “What’s the eulogy sound like?”
“‘Here lies Drew Benedict,’” I said solemnly. “‘Taken too soon by poor ladder decisions and excessive flirtation.’”
He laughed, low and rough. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
“I’m saving the good material for the wake.”
Snow swirled outside the window, catching the reflection of the lights he’d just strung. The world beyond the glass looked soft and far away, like Reckless River was sealed off from everything else—just me, him, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine.
“Alright,” he said, climbing down. “Your turn.”
I blinked. “My what now?”
“Ornaments. Top shelf. You’ve got a better reach for smaller places.”
I scoffed. “I’m five-five on a good day.”
“Exactly. I’ll hold the ladder.”
“Absolutely not.”
He stepped closer, holding the box out to me. “C’mon, Mel. It’s Christmas. Be brave.”
“Last time you said that, I ended up in your bed.”
He grinned, slow and wolfish. “Good times.”
I smacked his arm, but my laugh betrayed me. “You are unbearable.”
“And yet,” he said, taking a step closer, “you keep coming back.”
The air shifted, just slightly, but enough to feel it. The heat from the fire, the smell of pine, the low hum of the music. Everything seemed to tighten between us.
“Only because Lydia guilt-tripped me,” I said, though my voice had softened.
He tilted his head. “Sure about that?”
“Completely.”
