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What he said made sense.
“I guess that’s what we’d do. We do sell other handmade ornaments besides the snowflakes. Plus, we have the baked goods and the Present Pick that’s always a hit. But the snowflakes are special.”
Because it’s what she’d done with Aunt Jean.
He stepped back, inspected the tiles he’d just put up. “What’s the Present Pick?”
“Ever see the pick-up duck game at fairs or fundraisers? You know, where kids pick a duck floating in the water and on the bottom there’s a number coordinating with a prize?”
He nodded.
“That’s the idea behind Present Pick. There are lots of presents that are ring-box sized with lids that lift off. Kids pay to pick a box. When they open it up, inside is a number associated with a prize.” Just remembering all the fun they’d had with the booth last year had her smiling.
“I’m sure it will be a big success this year, too,” he assured her, looking amused.
Sarah wasn’t sure if it was her or the description of the games that had him smiling. Either way, she loved that he smiled. She’d seen him smile several times, but the beauty of it still hit her in smack-dab the center of her chest.
“Now, let’s see about getting some food in you,” she reminded. “Because if you don’t take me up on my offer, I’m positive Harry will.”
“You know,” he leaned against the bathroom stall, “it slows down my finishing your house when you have me do all these other things.”
“Other things such as eating?” she teased. “Don’t fool yourself that it’s not self-serving. I’m saving myself from you passing out from lack of food.”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t happen.”
“Listen, I don’t think it’s going to slow you down that much to eat. Besides, it’s Thanksgiving. Live a little. Have leftovers.”
“I’ll eat, but Thanksgiving is just another day on the calendar.”
“Just another day? Bite your tongue.”
He’d said as much before, and she’d let it pass without commenting. But today was the day and she wanted to share this little piece of it with him. To give him a taste of her traditions even if that only meant leftover turkey and dressing while sitting at her kitchen island with her for company. “Next thing you know, you’ll be saying Christmas is just another day,” she teased, expecting him to deny it.
He looked guilty as charged.
“No.” She grabbed her heart in an overly dramatic move. “Say it isn’t so.”
“Check out this fancy tile work,” he said instead, gesturing to what he’d worked on all day. He’d built the frames for the shower stalls several days previously, had them plumbed and boxed in. He really was a jack of all trades.
“Saw it when I came in,” she reminded him. “You don’t really believe Christmas is just another day, do you?”
“Man, I’m starv
ing. Did you say something about food?”
“Chicken,” she accused.
“That would be turkey,” he corrected, his eyes twinkling.
A laugh slipped from her at his joke. “Don’t think we’re done with this conversation. But before you faint from starvation, come on. I’ll heat you a plate while you clean up and let Harry outside.”
“Anyone ever tell you how bossy you are?”
Her cheeks heated. She didn’t think of herself as bossy. Quite the opposite. She lived to serve others. Still, she lifted her chin and gave him her bossiest look.
“I’m a Special Projects director. I direct. It’s what I do. That’s not being bossy. It’s directing.” Okay, that was a different spin to her job.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Bodie glanced around the bathroom. “I’ll clean up a little in here, let Harry out, and then I’ll take you up on those leftovers.”
