Her mouth twitched. “What was the charge?”
“Excessive charm.”
She shook her head but didn’t tell me to leave.
Progress.
I reached for a length of Douglas fir, our hands brushed, and she went still. Just for a second, but it was enough. Her pulsejumped in the hollow of her throat, and I felt that same damn pull that had kept me up two nights straight.
“Here,” she said quickly, handing me the clippers. “Cut that branch.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pretended to focus on arranging pinecones, but her eyes kept flicking toward me as I worked. When I looked back, she met my gaze, and that hot and familiar spark lit between us again.
“You’re staring,” I said.
“So are you.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Hard to stop.”
She tried to hide her smile behind the ribbon spool. “You really think you can flirt your way through arts and crafts?”
“Depends,” I said, leaning closer. “Is it working?”
Her laugh came out softer this time, genuine, like she’d forgotten to guard it. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” I said, brushing a stray bit of pine off her sleeve, “you’re not walking away.”
“Only because Lydia said she’d disown me if I ditched this.”
“She’s a smart woman.”
Her brows lifted. “She’s a meddler.”
“Both can be true.”
Her hands moved quickly, twisting the wire tight, but her focus kept slipping. I could feel it…the awareness, the charged silence that lived just under the sound of the crowd. The more she tried to ignore it, the thicker it got.
“Need help?” I asked, reaching to steady the wreath when it tilted.
“I’ve got it,” she said, but didn’t stop me.
Our hands met again over the pine. Warm skin, cool air, a thousand unsaid things sparking between. She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips parted, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the festival disappeared.
I wanted to kiss her right then, boy, did I, but I’d learned the hard way that with Melanie, patience was its own kind of seduction.
“See?” I said lightly. “Teamwork.”
“Fluke,” she said, her voice not quite steady.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She cleared her throat. “Don’t you have pancakes to flip or something?”
“The pancake breakfast is finito. I’m all yours.”
“Terrifying,” she murmured.
