Page 20 of Mad About Yule

Her mouth curves into a teasing smile, waking up the stupider side of my brain. Eight might not be early for work, but it’s way too early to be thinkinganythingabout her. I need to knock those thoughts out of my head with a hammer.

I pry my eyes away from her mouth and get back into elf mode, securing boards together until the wood whines beneath my screwdriver.

On my knees over my work, I try not to watch Hope move around the warehouse. Try and fail. With any luck, she’ll reassure herself I’m doing as she asked and then get gone. Doesn’t look like that’s in the cards, though. She puts her scarf, hat, and gloves on the workbench in a pile of red knit, and peels off her coat.

I can’t help it—I crane my neck to get a better look. Her fluffy orange sweater makes her look like a Creamsicle. A soft, delicious Creamsicle.

See? Hammer time.

I run the screwdriver, telling my thoughts to line up.

She crouches down in front of me, and my thought-line goes all to crap. I do not need a closer look at that sweater. Playing with fire, I risk a glance at her anyway, and the smile she flashes is Homecoming Queen perfection.

“Silas said this would be easier as a two-person job. So I’m here to help. For a little while, anyway.”

Nope. I will not be performing any two-person activities withengagedHope Parrish.

“You’re not dressed for it.” Her outfit could be worse. She isn’t wearing a skirt and heels like yesterday.

I very much liked seeing Hope in a skirt and heels.

Wrong direction, brain.

“I have to go into my shop after.” She looks down at her sweater and jeans, and I force myself not to do the same. “Do you think we’re going to get that dirty?”

I swallow a groan. One more reason she needs to hightail it out of here. I’m not used to distractions of the feminine variety while I work. Women on job sites are strictly coworkers, and coworkers have always been off-limits. Just like this Creamsicle should be.

“I can do it myself.” I work on, hoping the sound of the drill will clue her in.

“I know,” she says louder. “But like you said, it will go faster if we work as a team.”

I stop the drill. “I never said that.”

She takes hold of the two-by-four in my grip as though I need her to keep it steady, her knuckles pure white like she’s trying to crush it to pulp.

“Someone must have. Anyway, I’m here to help.”

“Don’t need it.”

“There must be something I can do.” She flashes another smile. This one looks sincere, or I would gun the drill to drown out her voice. “This project is kind of a big deal to me. I don’t want to just sit around while you work.”

I blow out a breath and put down the drill, staring her hard in the eye. “Look, I get that you want to be in control. I can relate. The thing is, I don’t need a boss. In my line of work, Iamthe boss.”

Or I had been, right up until I came home to work with Caleb.

“But this isn’t your line of work.” Her cheerful voice doesn’t hide the barbs she tossed at me. “This is my Christmas festival. You’re building my Winter Wonderland. I drew up the designs for the houses.” Her eyebrows bob with mock-humility. “I’mkind of the boss.”

I rock back on my heels as that sinks in. I agreed to build the Christmas houses, but I didn’t agree to three weeks of micromanagement. What exactly does she want to be in charge of? There’s no part of these little props I can’t handle.

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

“I’m going to hang out in here with you every morning anyway.” She still smiles sweetly, but her voice has an edge to it now. “You might as well let me help.”

“What happens if I don’t? Are you going to threaten to kick me out of the North Pole again?” Since that threat went so well yesterday.

“No.”

Her smile stretches even wider, and instinct tightens something in my stomach like she’s drawing back for a sucker punch.

---