But most of all, I just need to do something to stay out of the way so they can figure this out.
Right. “Are you sure?” he asked, just in case.
She nodded, her eyes brightening.
And it cost him nothing at all to say, “What do you know about stringing Christmas lights?”
She might have gotten in over her head.
Stella stood at the apex of the ladder, some forty feet in the air, reaching out to place the massive star topper on the evergreen that towered over the roof of the resort.
Trying not to kill herself.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Romeo stood at the bottom, holding the ladder that leaned against the tree. Shaggy branches poked through the rungs, and the whole thing had shaken on her way up.
Why, why, why—but apparently, this was her MO of late. Impulsive, risky decisions.
“I’m fine!”
Liar. But she’d gotten off to such a great start when he’d asked her what she knew about putting up Christmas lights. Like it might be hard or something. Lots of lights, wound around every branch?
You’ll do. He’d smiled then, approving, and in that moment, she’d simply lost her common sense. He’d rolled out four massive coils of lights wrapped in wooden spools, then set up the ladder. “We string four strands, starting at the top, down to the bottom, each one covering a quarter of the tree.”
Made sense. She’d grabbed one end of the strand and climbed up.
“What—wait, what are you doing?” Romeo had run to steady the ladder. “I can’t let you go up there.”
“You can’t let me?” She’d looked down at him, nearly missing a rung. Okay, maybe—
“No, I mean—I don’t want you to get hurt.” He had dug his feet around the base of the ladder, deep into the snow, his worn leather gloves holding on to the sides of the ladder. Seeing him down there, braced, protecting her from a fall…
She wouldn’t fall. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t wish for a Superman landing.
Stop. Her brilliant idea didn’t include a holiday romance with a local snowplow driver-slash-woodsman of the north. She just needed to occupy her time and stay away from cabin number six.
So she’d climbed to the top, then secured the lights and started to wind them down the tree.
“Not bad, Elf Brown,” Romeo had said as he unwound the next spool.
Right about then, her parents had emerged from their cabin, on the way into town.
Interesting.
When she’d dropped off the groceries, her dad had already hunkered down with a puzzle, her mother heading in for a nap. But not before quizzing her on her whereabouts and getting the lowdown about the second skid into the ditch. “Romeo helped dig me out,” Stella had said.
“The snowplow driver?” Her mother wore a funny smile, and Stella rolled her eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry for worrying you. Forgive me?”
“Of course we forgive you.” Her dad had stepped between them and put an arm around each of his girls.
“Absolutely.” Her mother had smiled then, and maybe Stella had simply dreamed up the tension. Especially when her father had waved to her on their way to the car.
Still, it didn’t hurt to give them room. And Romeo didn’t seem to mind, despite his words when she’d offered—I can handle it.
Yes, he could. And she’d been a little presumptuous to think she could just barge into his life and—
“Be sure and get the star on there well. The wind can take it off.”
After she’d strung the first light, she’d held the ladder for him and he’d strung the second and third sets, but she’d already grabbed the end for the last. When she’d made it back to the bottom, she’d reached for the star topper.
“You do this every year?” She’d untangled the cord from the star. It was a good three feet tall, two feet wide, but made of plastic and wire, so not terribly heavy. It came with extra clips on the back to secure it to the tree.
“This is only my second season here, really.” He’d shown her how to clip the light on. “Just hang it over your shoulder as you climb up. You sure you don’t want me to do this?”
“I got it. Only your second season?” She’d put the light over her shoulder, the cord hanging down, secured it with the long extension cord that ran to the bottom, then started up.
“Uncle John wrote to me last year and asked me to move back and help Owen. But before that, I’d only spent one Christmas here.”
“You didn’t grow up on the resort?” Okay, this was harder than she thought. At the top, she had to grip the edge of the ladder, then lean in with the star, one handed…no, no, this was a terrible idea—
“No. Mom and I traveled a lot. Usually we were on the road for Christmas.”
Something vacant rang in his voice. But at the moment, she was trying not to fall to her death.
“You sure you’re okay up there?”
She looked down. Swallowed.
“I’m coming up.”
“No, I can—”
“Resort rules. No guest dies on my watch.” The ladder shook as he ascended.
“What are you doing? Isn’t there a rule against two people on a ladder?”
“Tell that to any firefighter.” He kept coming, his eyes on her. “Just stay still.”
She wasn’t going anywhere, thank you, her hand like cement on the roofline, her feet jammed against the edges of the ladder, her other hand gripping the light, trying not to drop it. How anyone managed to put this up without help—
And then he was there. Behind her, his feet between hers, grabbing on to the roof to tug himself in. His body secured her to the ladder while his other hand lifted the light. “I’ll hold it against the tree, you snap it on. You can use two hands—I got you.”
Three sexier words had never been spoken, at least to her, and she suddenly couldn’t ignore the strength of him, keeping her safe as she reached out to latch the light to the apex of the tree.
Oh boy.
He even smelled good—woodsy, chocolaty, a hint of soap lifting from his beard, his face so close to hers.
She snapped the light into place. “Got it.”
“Good job. Stay put until I get to the bottom.” He started down the ladder, so sure of every step.
“Are you a fireman?” She didn’t know why that question popped into her head, just—
“Was. A smokejumper. But we learned some urban skills.” He hopped down to the bottom, then braced the ladder again. “C’mon down.”
She should have guessed he’d been a firefighter. Because suddenly she was in a Hallmark Christmas romance. Next thing that happened—she’d accidentally end up on a sleigh ride with him through the woods.
She was halfway down when he pulled his phone from his pocket. Frowned.
“What?”
He made a face. “Nothing.”
She landed in the snow next to him, and he walked over to the house, where the extension cord end was plugged into a timer.
He turned on the light.
Despite the daylight hours, the tree shone, tiny sparkles against the sunlight. She couldn’t wait to see it in the twilight. Preferably with—