“Are you still okay with hanging up the outside Christmas lights?” he asks.
“Yep.”Ugh. Hanging lights is the last thing I want to do.But he already asked me this morning and I agreed, so there’s no backing out. “Can I ask why you want outside lights? We’ve never put them up before.”
“Can’t a man want to see lights on his house before he dies?”
“Pops! Don’t say that.” I toss a pillow at him playfully. “If you want lights, you’ll get them. You don’t need to make it about some morbid reason.”
He shrugs, entirely unfazed. “You asked and I answered. I can’t help if you don’t like my motivating factor.”
“Do you know where you want them placed?”
“Yeah. On the front bushes, across the porch railings and roofline, and the boxwoods along the side of the house.”
The doorbell rings before I can respond. I push myself off the couch. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“Yeah, Roger.”
I open the door, smiling. “Hi, Roger.”
“Hey, sweetie.”
“Come on in.” I step aside to let him pass, and I’m about to shut the door when someone else fills the threshold. Jordan.
“Hi, G,” he says, flashing his lazy grin.
I automatically smile back. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
From his recliner, Pops calls out, “I asked him to help you hang the lights.”
I sigh. “Pops, I’m a grown woman, perfectly capable of hanging some lights by myself.”
Jordan chuckles and lightly touches my sleeve. “I’m happy to help out.” His touch lingers a second too long. Or maybe I imagine it.
“Okay. Thanks,” I say, shoving my feet into my sneakers without untying them. Grabbing a pink hoodie from the coat rack, I pull it over my head. I open the side door that connects the house and garage. The smell of sawdust and old paint hits me. “The lights are out here.”
Jordan follows behind, hands in his pockets like he’s trying to stay out of my way.
“They’re in that bin,” I say, pointing to the dusty green tub stacked beneath two gray ones.
He sets to work without hesitation, lifting the top two bins down like they weigh nothing. I try not to stare, and I fail.
“All set,” he says. “This feels like you have enough lights to wrap the entire neighborhood.”
“Yeah, Nan was a big fan of after-Christmas sales.” I smile at the memory and press the button to lift the garage door.
He carries the bin outside and then opens the cover. There’s an extension cord and package of hooks on top that he drops on the ground before he starts pulling out tangled strands of colored lights. I start untangling one section while Jordan plugs in another to test if they still work.
“So far, so good,” he says. “Where do you want to start?”
“Let’s do the boxwoods first.” I grab a strand. “They should be simpler than the rest.”
We get to work, moving side by side, looping lights around the tall shrubs. It’s going smoothly until I toss one end of the strand over a higher branch and turn around to ask him to help. At this point I realize I’ve somehow become tangled up.
“Wait a sec,” I mutter, trying to reverse out of it.
Jordan smirks. “Hold still.” He steps closer, unlooping a section. As he lifts the strand up over my head, I move in the opposite direction, making things worse.
He laughs. “Okay, stop moving.”
