Page 84 of A Cozy Christmas Blizzard
He located a saw, and she eyed him warily.
“What’s wrong now?”
“The saw.”
“What’s the matter with it?” He tested the sharpness by carefully running his thumb over the jagged teeth and raised questioning eyes to her.
“Nothing. If we use that rusty old thing, we shouldn’t have any trouble bringing home a good-sized rhododendron.”
“I wasn’t planning to chop down a California redwood.”
“But I want something a bit larger than a poinsettia.” She grabbed an axe and headed for the door.
He paused, then followed her out of the barn. “Are you always this difficult to get along with?”
Dragging the sled along behind her in the snow, she turned and said, “There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s you.”
“Right,” he growled.
Shelly realized that she was acting like a shrew, but her behavior was a defense mechanism against the attraction she felt for Slade. If he was irritated with her, it would be easier for her to control her own feelings for him.
“If my presence is such an annoyance to you, I can walk into town.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“She crabs at me about cutting down rhododendrons andI’msilly?” He appeared to be speaking to the sky.
Plowing through the snow, Shelly refused to look back. She started determinedly up a small incline toward the woods. “I just want you to know I can do this on my own.”
He laid his hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “Shelly, listen to me, would you?”
She hesitated, her gaze falling on the long line of trees ahead. “What now?”
“I like the prospect of finding a Christmas tree with you, but if you find my company so unpleasant, I’ll go back to the house.”
“That’s not it,” she murmured, feeling ridiculous. “I have fun when I’m with you.”
“Then why are we arguing?”
Against her will she smiled. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Friends?” He offered her his gloved hand.
She clasped it in her own and nodded wordlessly at him.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, just how big a tree were you thinking of?”
“Big.”
“Obviously. But remember, it’s got to fit inside the house, so that sixty-foot fir straight ahead is out.”
“But the top six feet isn’t,” she teased.
Chuckling, Slade draped his arm across her shoulder. “Yes, it is.”
They were still within sight of the house. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to cut down something obvious.”
“How do you mean?”
