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“Exactly. And Cheryl really wants that garage space back before the snow arrives, so again, you’re doing her the favor.”
“Sold. But I’m paying her asking price, and I’ll buy the slipcover myself.”
“I’ve got the links ready for you.” He handed me yet another sheet of paper, this one helpfully labeled, “Paul’s To-Do List, Part One.”
“The part one business is scaring me.” I was only half-joking.
“Stages, remember?” He patted my arm, and unlike the other night, I didn’t dodge his touch. He had a warm, wide palm, and the heat from his touch lingered far after he was back to shuffling papers. “If I give you the whole list at once, you’ll get overwhelmed. And there’s no fun in that.”
“Yeah.” I had to swallow hard. I couldn’t remember anyone caring about my stress level before. Whether I was overwhelmed or not had been largely irrelevant the last twenty-odd years. Someone rationing out my to-do list was a novelty, one I probably shouldn’t get used to. “And how do you know all these people getting rid of stuff?”
“Well, for starters, I’m on the neighborhood app. Aren’t you?”
“No.” I’d heard about it, of course. People complaining about porch pirates and the late-running teens and ill-behaved dogs. I was still old-fashioned enough to be on the email list for the neighborhood association, and even then, it was a crapshoot whether I actually opened the newsletter.
“Well, people get rid of stuff constantly. I’m just good at keeping track.”
“So I see.” I shook my head because he really was something else, eagle eyes and constantly whirring genius brain.
“Now, show me to the bedroom!” he demanded.
“Pardon?” My mind homed in on bedroom, heading straight for places that would probably shock my design guru here. Fussy might not be my usual taste, but my body sure did like the idea of showing him the finer points of my mattress.
“The guest room?” Gideon prodded, cheeks pink. “I have all sorts of ideas for there too, but I need to see the space.”
“Ah. Yes. Right this way.”
Chapter Eight
Free: Giant reindeer head, gently worn. Must pick up! ~Penny Jordan posted to the What’s Up Neighbor app
Gideon
Perhaps “Show me to the bedroom” wasn’t my best line. Making Paul sputter and turn light purple was a pretty nifty feat though. He didn’t fluster easily, so that was an A-plus job of inserting my foot into my mouth. Again. However, I’d been here at least thirty minutes now, and Paul hadn’t kicked me or my big ideas to the curb.
That was something, as was him seeming more amused than irritated at my bossiness. I was rather impressed myself at how well my ideas were coming together.
“For additional seasonal decor, I’ll take you to my favorite bargain-hunting secret,” I said as Paul led me upstairs, trying to distract myself from how his jeans pulled against his ass. “I’ve got lights covered, but you’ll want some odds and ends to round out the Christmas decorations.”
“I can’t let you pay for the lights.” Mr. No Charity gave me a withering look over his shoulder.
“I bought too many on clearance last year at the day-after-Christmas sales. I wake up at five each year to get the best chance of nabbing good lights.”
“That’s just bizarre enough to be the truth.” Paul blinked and paused at the top of the stairs, a cute landing area with built-in bookshelves and a bench seat.
“It is,” I assured him, patting his arm again. I really needed to stop touching the guy. He wasn’t one of my friends, who were far more used to my casual touches and freely given hugs. “My attic is full of boxes of unused lights in search of a good home. And I already added the ones from my surplus inventory to the schematic for your outdoor decor.”
“I’m not surprised.” Paul’s voice was dry, but he also wasn’t shutting down my plan. “What is it with you and lights anyway? Why be so invested in the whole neighborhood glowing like a landing strip?”
His incredulous expression said he expected to hear about my geeky love of timers and circuits, but I gave him honesty instead.
“Growing up, my parents fought constantly. Then they divorced. The one constant was Christmas at Holiday House in this very neighborhood. I looked forward to my grandparents’ big celebration all year, and my grandfather would take me walking to see the neighborhood lights. Away from all the bickering, it really did feel like a magical wonderland. I want to be that feeling for others who might need the lights this time of year.”
“I…uh…wow.” He gulped audibly. The oversharing was too much, undoubtedly, but he’d asked. “Holiday House? That’s your place now?”
Now it was my turn to frown. “I wish. The Morrisons beat me to buying my grandparents’ old house. After my divorce, I decided to move back to my favorite neighborhood, even if I couldn’t get the house I truly wanted.”
“I’m sorry.” Paul sounded like he really meant it, eyes softer than I’d seen them.
