Page 155 of Holiday Hire

She beams. "Really? I always thought my accents were bad."

"I don't know. I'm biased," I say, then glance over at the heap of tarps. I ask, "Should we move everything to the center of the room and cover the floor?"

"Wow! My man's smart too!" She bats her lashes.

"Every now and then," I claim.

We spend an hour moving the bed, dressers, and desk. We put tarps on the floor and then I declare, "Time for the paint."

"It's still in the pantry."

"Okay, I'll go get it." I go into the kitchen and find the paint. Then, I pull a screwdriver from the junk drawer and return to her room.

Her expression lights up every one of my cells. She chirps, "I'm so excited."

I chuckle. "I can see that, which is why you should have been first."

She shakes her head. "Nope! That's not the way the cookie crumbles."

"Hmm. Well, maybe I'll have to give you an extra gift since you were so patient."

She grins. "Is this another bet?"

I give her a lewd glance from head to toe, then lock eyes with her. "Quite possibly."

Her face flushes, but her smile widens, and my heart almost leaps out of my chest.

My new daily goal is to make Phoebe happy. I literally wake up and think about what I can do that day to make her smile more. And every time she does, I feel giddy.

"Oh, I have to go get the paintbrushes. Hold on." She disappears and returns with a handful of supplies and a stir stick.

I open the can and stir the pale yellow until it looks consistent. Then I pour some into a tray.

She hands me a roller. "You roll, I'll cut in."

"Deal, but we're going to need a ladder."

"Oh, duh," she says.

I chuckle again. "I'll go get it." I leave and go to the garage. I grab a stepladder and bring it into the bedroom.

She's already painting the bottom of the wall. I study her for a minute, impressed, muttering, "That's crazy."

She stops and turns her head. "What is?"

I point at the wall, stating, "I don't understand how you can do that without tape. That's a perfectly straight line. You don't have any on the trim."

"Yep, I know," she perkily singsongs.

"Crazy," I repeat, then grab the roller. I coat it with yellow paint and then apply it on the wall. After half the wall is painted, I step back, asking, "Do you like the color now that it's actually in your room?"

"I love it. It's super cheerful."

I agree. "It is. Just like you."

She bats her lashes. "Why, Alexander Cartwright, I feel like you're trying to make me blush."

"Oh, no. I'd make you do that naked if I wanted you to blush," I tease, continuing to roll the wall. By the time I finish all four, she's completed the bottom part. I put the roller down and pat the step of the ladder, grinning. "Time to get your booty up."

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