Page 50 of Once Upon a Holidate
Wynn stood. “All right, ladies. We’ve left the men alone for too long. Why don’t we join them until it’s close to dinnertime?”
Everyone stood and headed for the living room. Wynn was pleased to see Renee link arms with Joylyn, making sure she stayed with the group. Wynn checked the turkey and did a quick time calculation in her head, mentally figuring out how long it would take to get everything ready once the main oven was free.
Once she confirmed her calculations, she made a quick review of the dining room, then turned to go to the family room, only to nearly run into Garrick.
“You joining us?” he asked.
“On my way. Did you see Joylyn?”
“I did.” His gray eyes met hers. “Hunter’s doing?”
She nodded. “He said she shouldn’t be alone on the holiday and went to get her. I’m not sure what he said, but it worked.”
“Your kid is impressive.”
“Thank you. I like to think so.” She smiled. “I’ll remember his actions so the next time he gets into trouble, he gets some bonus points for previous excellent behavior.”
“You’re very fair,” he said.
“I try to be.”
They stared at each other. She felt a yummy kind of tension flare and knew there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.
As if reading her mind, he murmured, “We have got to work on our timing.”
“Maybe it’s because we’re out of practice.”
“Something we should change.”
She smiled. “I’m game. Just maybe not with a houseful of people.”
“I’d say we could pretend it’s just part of the entertainment, but your son and my daughter being here adds an element I’m not comfortable with.” He leaned in and lightly kissed her. “Soon?”
“Yes.”
He put his arm around her and they walked toward the family room. Wynn enjoyed the feel of him next to her and told herself the anticipation was nice... even if she would much rather have the real thing.
Chapter Nine
Garrick sorted through the tools he had on hand, putting some of them in drawers under the workbench and hanging others from hooks on the pegboard. Once he got the workshop area of the garage cleaned up, he would swing by the hardware store and pick up his order.
He’d researched the best wood to use to make the bassinet for Joylyn and the baby. He wanted something strong but with a beautiful grain. With the simple design of the piece, the wood would be the star. He would use an organic stain, avoiding anything toxic, which meant no varnish. The directions were fairly easy, and he’d made furniture before. Most of the time would be spent sanding the wood to a silky finish—something he would enjoy.
He picked up a box of roofing nails and put them in a drawer, then grabbed three more screwdrivers and put them in loops on the pegboard.
At some point he really needed to sort through his tools and get rid of duplicates. It was one thing to have a spare, butat last count, his screwdriver collection had topped twenty. He doubted he needed even half that many.
When the bench was clean, he gave the garage a quick sweep. The Saturday morning weather was perfect. Bright and sunny, with a hint of coolness in the air. With a little luck, he would have a quiet couple of days off and no emergency calls. He would have time to work on the bassinet and get out Christmas decorations. He and Joylyn wouldn’t get a tree for another week or so, but they could do the other decorating. He had wreaths for the door and a Nativity, along with little holiday odds and ends they’d bought together. Maybe he’d show her everything later this afternoon.
If all went well, maybe tonight or tomorrow he could figure out a way to sneak off with Wynn for a few hours. They both seemed ready to take things to the next level, but for that to happen, he wanted more than fifteen minutes up against a wall somewhere. He wanted time and privacy so he could give life to all his Wynn-based fantasies. He wanted to learn what she liked and then do it better than anyone ever had. Sure, a quickie was fun, but not for their first time.
And probably not today, he thought as he put the broom in the corner and grabbed his list for the hardware store.
He was halfway to his SUV when a red 1965 Mustang convertible pulled up in front of the house. The car was beautiful—with new wheels and a glossy coat of paint.
Three young women stepped out, but he barely noticed them. He could see the upholstery was original and he was itching to look under the hood and see what the engine looked like.
One of the women, a pretty brunette in a crop top and shorts, walked up to him.
