Christmas at Holiday House - RaeAnne Thayne Page 0,32
it.”
“I suppose I could probably find one or two people to pinch-hit for an afternoon so you don’t have to carry everything down by yourself. Even with an elevator, that’s many trips up and down.”
“You can work that out with Winnie, but it’s probably not necessary. I told her I would do it.”
He had to admire her willingness to jump in and help, even as he could see the prospect overwhelmed her. “You’re still okay with all this? It’s probably not too late to change your mind about helping her. She can find someone else.”
“Are you kidding?” Her laugh sounded vaguely hysterical. “I’ve changed my mind back and forth a hundred times since the moment we walked into the nutcracker room. This job is entirely too much for me. I don’t know how I let Winnie talk me into it. She needs a professional decorator, not a nurse who could barely decide where to hang pictures on the wall of my apartment.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she said. “I’m not sure why I ever agreed to help her. For that matter, how did I let Lucy talk me into coming to Silver Bells in the first place?”
Her honesty was refreshing, even if he could hear the edge of panic to her words. “Few people can withstand my sister when she has her mind set on something.”
“I know. Believe me. I can’t tell you the number of times she dragged me off to some party or other when I had every intention of sitting down to study for my anatomy class.”
He had a hard time picturing her as a young nursing student, rooming with his wild, wandering sister.
“Three guesses where Lucy learned her powers of persuasion.”
“Winnie. Winnie. And Winnie.”
“Exactly.”
He could still see the edge of panic in her eyes and was driven to comfort her, for reasons he couldn’t have explained.
“Don’t worry. My grandmother will be there to help you every step of the way. If you can stick an IV needle into a wriggling, crying pediatric patient, you can certainly hang some Christmas lights on a tree.”
She gave a shaky smile. “The two things are not at all analogous, but thank you for the vote of confidence.”
He smiled and she gazed at his mouth, an odd, almost arrested expression on her features.
Ethan felt suddenly breathless. “Have you seen what you need to up here?”
“I... Yes. I think so. We had better go back down to Winnie and Chris.”
“Elevator or stairs?”
“Stairs are fine. That way we can turn off lights as we go.”
He nodded and led the way to the attic stairway. “Watch your step up here. There are a couple of tricky floorboards.”
“If there’s anything that could trip me, I’ll definitely find it.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she stumbled on a small box that had fallen off a stack.
He wasn’t aware of moving, but somehow he must have instinctively lunged to catch her. She gave a little gasp as she settled into his arms, soft and curvy and smelling like pumpkin pie spice.
He gazed down at her, struck again by the fierce urge to press his mouth to those freckles scattered across her nose. She looked up at him, eyes wide and that strange, intense expression on her lovely features again.
He couldn’t seem to look away and he held her entirely too long. He should have simply set her back on her feet and released her, but he couldn’t seem to make his muscles cooperate.
Color climbed her cheeks, as deliciously pink as the wild roses that grew around the house.
“I told you I was clumsy.” She gave a small, embarrassed-sounding laugh. “Thank you for saving me from a hard conk on the head.”
Was it his imagination or did she sound breathless, her voice huskier than it had been earlier?
He finally came to his senses enough to help her to her feet and release her. To his chagrin, he had to clear his voice before he trusted himself to speak.
“You’re welcome. You can’t be too careful up here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I come up again. Should we go back down?”
He didn’t want to. He wanted to press her against the wall and kiss her until neither of them could think straight.
The impulse came out of nowhere, kicking him in the gut like a wild horse. What was wrong with him?
“Probably a good idea,” he said instead, gesturing toward the stairs.