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Ezra crossed his arms and waited. When she reopened her eyes and saw him, she smiled. Most people would’ve been embarrassed to be caught dancing and singing to themselves, but not much seemed to faze London.
“Hey,” she said, a little more loudly than necessary. Then she held up a finger and tapped at the earbud. “Sorry. You have good timing. I’m almost ready for you.”
“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself back here.”
“I am. Once you get the hang of it, this is relaxing.”
“It’s a good thing you’re almost done. The weather has gotten bad out there. The snow is really coming down.”
Her face scrunched up as she worked on her glass before it cooled. “I was hoping to still get one more done tonight. By the time these cool for days, I won’t have time to take another stab at this before the party. I have to hope that at least one of these will be right.”
“I don’t know how bad the snow’s going to be. It doesn’t even look like the plows came through yet.”
She turned the rod and studied her work. “I think I’m ready for your help.”
He moved quickly to remove the topper from her rod. As he separated it, he asked, “Did you hear what I said about the weather?”
“Are you throwing me out?”
“No. But it doesn’t look safe out there.”
“Would it be a problem if we stayed until the storm passed?”
He took a deep breath and moved closer to guide her hands as he had for the last one, but she was already working the opening. She was a fast learner. He considered her question. He didn’t have anywhere to be and no one was waiting for him to come home. Would it matter to stay?
The real question was whether he could spend that much time alone with London without hitting on her.
“Well? Can I stay?”
Looking into her bright blue eyes, wide with hope, he couldn’t say no. “I guess.”
Her wide smile returned.
“Go get the mitts so we can move this.” She hustled over to the table where she’d left the gloves.
They worked in tandem to get this topper into the annealer beside the first one. Once it was set, he returned to the front of the store, assuming she’d start on the next one.
But she followed him. She stood at the door, looking out at the snow falling and piling up. “Wow. It is coming down out there.”
“Did you think I was lying?”
“No, but maybe exaggerating a little.”
“Nope.” He, too, stared at the window. At the glass itself, not the weather beyond. Why the hell did Bronte think he should be the one to decorate this window?
“Whatcha doin’?” London asked.
“Trying to figure out a display for the window. Bronte bought all this crap and it’s a lot.” He swept his arm out toward the boxes and the paint and the fake snow.
“Ooh...can I help?”
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Why would you volunteer to do that?”
“Decorating is fun. Plus, if I’m helping you with this, you won’t get mad that I’m taking a break before starting the next tree topper.” She moved over to the counter and started pulling out supplies. “What do you think? Just a simple Happy Holidays message on the glass?”
She turned back to him holding red and green paint.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
