“For a guy who’s spent all morning cleaning out flower beds and burning yard trash, you’re in an awfully good mood.” Percy’s voice pulled him out of his musings.
Just as well. Fresh from the shower, Ryan peeked out the back door to make sure the smoldering remains of the burn pile were well-contained. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve been whistling.”
Had he? It didn’t sound like him, but he had been thinking about Hannah and that smile of hers while he worked.
Percy smirked. “Reckon that has something to do with a certain little brunette you had dinner with last night.”
Ryan didn’t even dignify that with a response, instead moving past his uncle into the kitchen to grab the pitcher of tea from the fridge.
“I told ya you needed a woman.”
“I do not have a woman. Nor will I be here long enough to acquire one.” And if he regretted that a little, well, he was only human, and he’d enjoyed Hannah’s company. He poured a glass and shoved the pitcher back into the fridge a little rougher than necessary.
“Mmmhmm.” Percy just continued to watch him with eyes that were too shrewd.
This was all his fault. Ryan hadn’t been thinking about a woman at all until his uncle had brought it up. Now he’d probably be taking images of one back with him, whether he wanted to or not. Not ideal considering he’d probably never see Hannah again after he left Wishful. But saying anything about that to Percy would open the door to merciless teasing and additional attempts at matchmaking. Ryan needed to do some more investigating himself to see whether his uncle’s mysterious benefactor did indeed have a little crush on him. If she did, well, some diversionary tactics were in order.
The doorbell rang, saving Ryan from having to answer. He gestured to Percy with his glass as he headed to the door. “Behave yourself.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Even as he fixed the older man with a quelling stare, a part of Ryan was happy to see the lighter side. If trying to play matchmaker would help pull Percy out of his funk, he’d suffer—or maybe enjoy—the consequences.
Hannah stood on the front porch, an impish smile making those dimples wink. Perched atop her head was a red and green striped hat—with elf ears attached to the sides.
Though rusty with disuse, his own mouth tugged up into an answering smile. “You found your ears.”
“Seemed appropriate.”
Abruptly, he took in the rest of her, realizing her arms were laden with so many bags she shouldn’t have been able to keep her feet. Reaching forward to relieve her of the burden, he noted there was no car in the driveway. “How did you get all this here?”
She dialed up that ray of sunshine smile. “I walked, silly.”
Ryan blinked. The year-long ban on driving had been up for a couple of months. Did this mean she hadn’t started again? Telling himself it wasn’t his business, he curled his fingers around the entire wad of bag handles in her left hand. “Give it up, Hercules. Why didn’t you call? I’d have come to pick you up.”
“Well, I didn’t have your number, and it’s really not that heavy.” She released her grip and he was surprised to find she was right. The load wasn’t anywhere near what he expected.
“What’s in here anyway?”
“Wrapped packages. I still need to put bows on.”
“Did you remember to put the presents in the boxes?”
“They’re for decoration, not gifts. Just trust me.” Hannah stepped past him into the house. “Hey Percy. Are you ready to get holidayed up?”
Percy’s face lit up with something that might have been actual pleasure at the sight of her. “The tree has been soaking up water on the back porch since yesterday. The stand and everything else is in the attic.”
“I cleared a path to the ladder in the garage,” Ryan told her.
“Excellent. Let me just set all these down and make a stop in the kitchen. I brought cookie dough.”
“Cookie dough?” That was definitely hope in the old man’s voice.
“You can’t decorate for Christmas without cookies and cocoa. And what’s the point of being related to the baker in town if you can’t filch cookie dough from the supply in the freezer?”
Ryan set down the bags beside hers in the entryway. “I like the way you think.”
She switched the oven on to heat. “Okay, let’s start hauling stuff down.”
Percy started to shuffle into the living room. “I’ll just put on my shoes.”
“You’re not going up that ladder.” Ryan hated the mutinous turn of his expression. “You were dizzy this morning. If you fell and injured yourself, that would put a serious cramp in these decorating plans.”
Percy huffed. “Fine.”
“Actually, I was thinking you could hook us up with some music,” Hannah suggested. “Do you have a radio or CD player?”
His lips twitched. “I expect I could manage something.”
She beamed. “Wonderful. Then we’ll get started bringing stuff down from the attic.”
“Tree stand is in the northwest corner.”
“I’m on it,” Ryan promised.
He preceded Hannah up the ladder, groping around until he found the chain and tugged it. Dim light illuminated only part of the space. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
In answer, he hauled himself up the rest of the way and made room for her. She poked her head through the floor. “Oh my.”
“And I thought the garage was bad.”
The attic was full to the brim with stuff. The detritus of forty plus years of living in the same place. Boxes, trunks, and bins were stacked neatly along the sides, with an assortment of furniture, ancient luggage, and sporting equipment that probably dated back to when Percy and Janie had been newlyweds wedged between. There was barely room to walk between the rows.
Hannah climbed up the rest of the way, taking his hand for balance when he offered. “Well, he said the tree stand is in the northwest corner. Let’s start with that and hope the rest of the Christmas stuff is nearby.” Whipping out her phone, she swiped on the flashlight and edged toward the front corner of the house.
“Hold up. I should probably go first. I don’t know what kind of shape the floors are in. Nobody’s been up here in God knows how long.”
“It’s fine. I’m walking along the beams.”
He hurried behind her, having to turn sideways to ease between the stacks of boxes. All this stuff needed going through, too. That was likely more than he’d manage in his time here. He’d clean up and clear out the garage, fix anything that needed fixing around the house to ensure Percy’s safety, and put his mother and brothers on the rest. Let them fight the battle over what needed to be donated or tossed.
“Good Lord, there must be at least sixteen boxes of decorations over here,” Hannah observed. “And here’s the stand.”
“If you can start passing things back to me, I’ll make a stack by the ladder.”
They got into a rhythm, transferring boxes from one space to the next. When they filled the small area of empty floor by the ladder, they set up yet another chain so that she could pass boxes down to him on the ground. He made an effort not to watch her ass during the process, but really, it was a lost cause when she filled out those skinny jeans like a gift from God. Once they’d hauled the first lot into the foyer, they went back and repeated the process.