Page 17 of A Candy Cane Christmas
“Daddyyyyy,” she whined, her arms raised, head hidden somewhere in light pink fabric. “Help!”
“Did you remember to open the buttons?”
“Noo, I forgot,” Hazel said, her voice muffled by her sweater. “Help, pleaaase!”
Theo quickly helped his daughter get back into the sweater, then unbuttoned two buttons at the back of her neck, then helped her out of her sweater and into a shirt that was so big I was ninety-nine percent sure it was an old one of his.
“Look, Luci, I have a painting shirt, too,” she said, proudly puffing out her chest before pointing at me and my paint-stained clothes. “Just like you. Can we start now? I want to start decorating the tree!”
Jumping up and down, she pointed at the big canvas towering a good few inches over her that had the outer silhouette of a Christmas tree sketched onto it. It’d been a spur-of-the-moment idea, a step up from the art class I’d held at the community center.
“You might want to take off your socks, too,” I suggested.
I’d prepared for this. The floor was covered in tarp, and I’d turned the heat higher. Hell, I even had a couple of shirts I usually wore while painting, ready just in case.
“And you definitely need a ponytail before you go anywhere near fingerpaint,” Theo added, holding up the purple scrunchie.
“Fine.” She sighed. “But hurry, I want to start!”
Theo made quick work of Hazel’s hair, tying it into a neat ponytail with ease.
My heart fluttered.
Damn, who knew competence was so damn sexy?
“Do you want to change into one of my shirts?” I offered Theo, nodding to the back of my couch where I’d placed my spare painting clothes. “I’d hate for you to ruin your shirt.”
Because he looked sexy as hell in it. The navy-blue Henley brought out the blue in his eyes, and the way it stretched over his chest… delicious. It’d be a damn shame if it got ruined.
“Uhm… yeah…” Theo gave me a grateful smile. A blush crept onto his cheeks, leaving them bright red. “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”
Thinking back at the way I’d made a fool of myself undressing in front of him last week, my ears heated, and I quickly nodded. “Sure, you shouldn’t have trouble finding it.”
“Be good, Hazel,” Theo told his daughter, then gave me one last smile before hurrying out of the living room.
“So, Miss Hazel, what do you think? You wanna start decorating our very own Christmas tree?”
She nodded rapidly.
“Okay. I’ve got a lot of paint over here, and there’s a bit of glitter over there—but that’s for later. We need to paint first.”
“And you need a ponytail first, Luci,” she said, her face all serious in a way that made her look like a mini version of her father. “Daddy says you can only use paints if your hair is safely tucked away.”
“If your daddy says so.” Winking at her, I tied my hair into a messy bun using the elastic I always wore around my wrist. “And what now?”
Hazel tipped a finger against her bottom lip. “I think… I want to do the garland and the ornaments. You and Daddy can do the tree. That’s the boring part. I want to do the fun parts.”
Snorting, I grabbed palettes for both of us. “Show me which colors you want.”
Hazel grinned, pointing at various shades of red and purple, and we went to work.
I happily smeared different greens onto the huge canvas, trying to create layers with the paint to better show shadows and highlights, while Hazel happily started lathering on a deep red for the garland.
“Can I add glitter later, Luci?” she asked, just as she smushed another glob of paint onto the canvas.
“Of course. I think glitter makes everything better.”
“Me too!” Hazel turned her head away from the canvas for a moment, giving me a huge grin before turning back to the canvas. Her dark brown ponytail swished through the air, narrowly missing my palette.
