Page 18 of Lighting Up Christmas

Zhang jammed the helmet on his head, surprised it fit. It was a man’s helmet. And men’s gloves, large. Did she normally have a partner?

He could just imagine Riley’s response if he asked—that wide grin, the bright light that shone in her eyes when she was amused or riled.

Riley already had the circuit breaker off and the fuse box open.

“You have a generator hooked up yet?”

“Yes, but I—”

“You’ll need to run the food trucks off of that. I can reconfigure a fix for tonight, but the trucks will overload your system. I can get you more juice and redistribute the power to even out the load and upgrade.” She tilted her light up when she spoke to him. “You’ll need at least one new electrical panel, which will take about eight hours to install. I can email youa bid tomorrow. I will need at least one other crew member, but it’s still my professional recommendation that you have an electrician look at your electrical and discuss your power needs now and your growth plans. I can replace the panel on Monday, but I can get you up and running tonight if we keep the load at the regular capacity.”

“What about the band?”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Ok.”

“That’s it?” He could hear the repressed laughter in her voice, and he fought the urge to smile. “No, Riley, be off with you, I can do it by myself,” she sang out.

“Not tonight,” he said, tackling the obvious. “I’ve interrupted your very important evening,” he said, still not able to reconcile the brief image he’d caught of her backlit by the lights in her truck as she’d poured out of the driver’s side door—vivid, midnight sky-blue dress hiking up over her pale, toned legs and her bare feet with pale pink painted toes disappearing into the ruggedly battered work boots.

The image had been disturbingly sexy.

And he didn’t want to go there with a woman right now.

Especially not with a woman who lived locally.

And made him feel so out of sorts, he forgot how to speak.

Not that he bothered to try all that often unless he needed something.

“I texted Sophia that I’d be a little late, and she said you could pay her back for the inconvenience by donating a bottle of wine to her cause.”

“What is her cause?” he asked curiously, not knowing who Sophia was except perhaps the woman who owned the shop. That was the thing with small towns. Everyone knew each other and assumed the same even of newcomers. He’d thought after alifetime of living in cities and penthouse high-rises and teaming universities, he’d want that.

He thought a more peaceful life and schedule would lure his grandfather to visit and perhaps stay. Bring him back to the land—give him a purpose once again. His grandfather had cared for him. Given him a home. He wanted to do the same.

Zhang had thought he’d fit more easily in Bear Creek than he had in the expensive Palo Alto and then Cupertino enclaves. But he didn’t. He didn’t know how. So, he’d mostly stayed on his mountain. Ordered supplies. And chartered a private jet to fly him to his headquarters when Zoom meetings and conference calls wouldn’t suffice.

“Turning thirty.” Riley grinned. “She’s being a drama queen about it, so we’re having a red dress thirty party, only she’s seen me in red, so she relented and picked out this blue dress.”

Was he supposed to compliment the dress?

Defend her and say she’d rock red?

He knew not to make personal comments to employees, especially women, and technically she was providing a service he would be paying her for, so… “What kind of wine does she prefer—reds or whites? Dry? Sweet?”

“From what I can tell, wine that’s not running away.” Riley’s voice was muffled as she scrolled out some different colored wires from a roll and held them in her teeth while she clipped off the length she needed. “Zhang, I’m teasing about the wine.”

He could see the tip of her tongue, the flash of her white teeth, and the curve of her lips when she said his name.

He’d never liked the sound of it better.

“I’m not,” he said stiffly, stepping back. “You can pick a bottle for your friend and one for yourself.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “But when I drink, which isn’t all that often, I’m more of a beer girl.”

He jerked as if she’d goosed him. “Now that’s a challenge.”

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