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Like how at times, he seemed to relax.
He still didn’t smile much, but he did smile. Mostly when talking to Harry, but she managed to get a smile out of him here and there.
Bodie smiling was a beautiful thing. He really should consider doing so more often.
“You’re quiet,” he pointed out a little later as he walked to the island sink and washed his hands.
“Just making dinner. I’m glad you don’t mind being my guinea pig on all these recipes.”
“Being fed home-cooked meals? I’ll risk being your guinea pig.” He turned, eyed her with blue eyes that saw straight into her. “You’re not usually quiet while you cook.”
Yep, he thought she talked too much.
“You’re not usually in here with me while I cook,” she countered, looking away from his intent gaze. He’d only been there a week, but having him in the house felt right. She hadn’t admitted it to herself, but from the point she’d moved out of her dad’s home and into Hamilton House, the house had felt lonely. Probably because Aunt Jean wasn’t there. Soon enough, she’d fill the walls with paying guests, with love and laughter.
“Maybe not, but I hear you singing.”
“You got something against Christmas carols?” Glancing Bodie’s way, she wrinkled her nose. She did sing while she cooked. While she did a lot of things.
He shook his head.
“Good. We need more carolers for Christmas Eve. I’ll add your name to my list.”
“That escalated fast. I’m not going Christmas caroling, Sarah. If all goes well, I won’t be in Pine Hill at that point.”
Because he’d have finished his work—which meant he would be gone. That shouldn’t bother her. She wanted him to finish… but having him around was nice.
She turned and gave him a smile. “Since you never said you weren’t helping with the ornaments, does that mean you’re going to keep me from being up all night doing them by myself?”
His expression was dubious. “You’d be better off putting a hammer in my hand rather than putting me to work crafting.”
“But you’re willing to learn?” she pushed, wanting him to help, although not sure if it was the prospect of his company or an extra set of hands that motivated her.
“I may or may not have failed art class in school.”
Smiling at his answer, she shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
His brow arched. “Why not?”
After first wiping her hands over her apron, she put them on her hips. “I’ve seen your drawings. Besides, you, Bodie Lewis, don’t do anything halfway. Which is why I’m counting on you to help me have lots of snowflake pieces cut for tomorrow’s session with the Butterflies.”
“I’m not really going to be wielding scissors?”
She shrugged. “If you’ll cut the canvas, that’ll be a huge help, but we could just as easily cut pieces and decorate them ourselves if you prefer. Either way will end up with the same result—our having more snowflakes to sell at our booth.”
Although he didn’t look like he wanted to say yes, he only hesitated another moment before he nodded. “If you need me to help cut snowflakes, I’ll cut snowflakes. I’m here to help you, Sarah.”
Her gaze met his and it struck her just how much Bodie had helped already.
It would be easy to get used to him being around, to leaning on him. She couldn’t let that happen. Not beyond what she’d hired him to do. Eventually, he’d leave. He was just passing through Pine Hill, not there to stay.
Still, he was there now, and she enjoyed his being there.
“You know, if I can’t rustle up more volunteers for our caroling, I’m going to remind you how much I need your help with that, too,” she teased, ignoring that he’d already said he wouldn’t be in town.
“You’d regret it. I’m worse at singing than I am at crafting,” he assured, not reminding her of his earlier comment. He leaned against the kitchen island and watched her wash off zucchini. He gestured to what she was doing. “Need me to help do that or chop something?”
“Will I regret it if I say yes?” she teased, tossing his words back at him.
