Page 58 of Mad About Yule

I can’t focus on much of anything beyond his body against mine, all hard muscle that sends my thoughts drifting. He smells good, too, the lightest hint of mint and spice, with a trace of sawdust from his work in the warehouse. Griffin McBride is just straight-up sexy, even when standing in the middle of a somewhat dank, mouse-infested department store.

I need to remind Mom to do something about the mice before she tries to show the store again. A vermin infestation would kill interest pretty quickly.

“This one looks good.” He thumbs a video for a compressed figure-eight, with the track crossing in the center of the scene and loops running parallel to the window. The layout would make good use of the space and shouldn’t outreach our limited time and abilities. Once we have a couple of trains weaving in and out of vintage toys, it should be reasonably impressive, even if it isn’t the dream window I’d originally imagined.

We keep the video on repeat as we lay out each track piece, double-checking where everything goes. When we finally have it ready, Griffin sets both engines on the tracks in preparation for our test run. If all goes to plan, they’ll circle the tracks and cross in the center with plenty of room to spare.

If things don’t go to plan, Mr. Deckard will add our heads to the display shelves in his basement.

Griffin rests his hand on the train switch, ready to get the party started. “Do you want to say a few words?”

I look to the ceiling, pressing my palms together in front of my chest. “Please, God, bless these crash test dummies.”

“Amen.”

He throws the switch, and the trains come to life with a spark and a whirr of electricity. They jostle along the tracks, pulling their cars behind as they navigate the straightaway and the first curves. I squeeze my hands together as they pass each other and switch tracks, completing the figure-eight.

Griffin lets out a whoop and holds his hands up for a double high-five. I slap them, and he curls his fingers around mine as we bask in the glow of our hard-earned success. He lowers our hands to shoulder height, and the high-five shifts into something else.

His gaze zeroes in on my mouth like we have unfinished business. We did kind of leave things hanging after the closet fiasco. He leans closer, the breath between us slowly shrinking in a tantalizing dare. Will I give in?

That’s a resoundingyes.

I stretch up to reach him and my eyes nearly drift shut, but before we make contact, a tinny sound of metal hitting metal breaks us apart. Both trains lie on their sides across the tracks.

“I guess we celebrated too soon.” Griffin switches off the trains, and we examine each car, searching for any evidence of the crash. “They look okay, though.”

“What was that you said earlier about ratting me out to Mr. Deckard?” I run one finger along the side of one of the engines but can’t feel any scratches. If Mr. Deckard gets out a magnifying glass, all bets are off.

“I’ll keep this one just between us.”

“Maybe we should just do one train.” It’s a bit of a letdown, honestly, but it will still look pretty cool.

“We can get it.” He goes through the video again, making slight adjustments until the trains go around the track without threat of collision. This time, we just make jazz hands over the tracks.

Griffin switches it back off. “That’s lunch.”

“You really like being the lunch break police, don’t you?”

“I really like eating lunch. How about sandwiches?”

“Perfect. Um…do you mind if we eat them here?”

His low opinion of this idea twists his mouth as he looks around the empty store. But when his eyes land on me again, I’m practically begging.

“I can keep working while you’re gone, and we’ll get more done that way,” I add.

His eyes soften, and I know he’s thinking about my confession yesterday. There’s only so many work lunches we can take together before people start making pointed commentary. Well…morepointed commentary.

“Sure.”

When he leaves, I move to the treasures I’d set aside from the tiny houses, trees, and figures. For all his fears, Mr. Deckard gave me plenty to work with. I’d almost expected him to lend out the most beat-up items in his collection, but I suspect he’s shared some of the best. Maybe they aren’t glass case-worthy, but I have no shortage of fabulous little buildings to choose from.

When Griffin returns with sandwiches from the deli, I have the makings of a town coming to life in Henderson’s window. Tiny brick buildings line up on either side of the split train tracks, but it isn’t anywhere close to finished.

“What’s all this?” He glances it over and gives me a funny look. “You’re making Sunshine?”

“If I can’t have interlocking trains and mountain passes, I’ll settle for a tiny replica of Maple Street, complete with town square at one end.”

---