ceiling at night, and I’m not about to get bit by something.” She shuddered.
Caleb stepped forward. “Come on. Doc will be home for Christmas—wouldn’t it be great to have some decorations up for him?”
She gritted her teeth. “That’s not fair. You can’t use my dad to guilt me into liking Christmas.”
“Who said anything about guilt?” He took the last step into her personal space and reached up, draping his fingers over the pull and leaning down so their faces were kissably close.
Faith’s heart pounded so loud she was sure it would wake up Rudy in the clinic. Breathing was difficult, making her gasp. What were they talking about? Christmas and Jesus and trees?
Oh yeah. Decorating. Which she didn’t want to do. Funny how she had to remind herself of that when staring into Caleb’s dark blue eyes. If she wasn’t careful, he’d talk her into all sorts of things. “Are you always this pushy about decorating?”
“Are you always this Scrooge-y about not decorating?” He searched her face—looking for what, she wasn’t sure.
“I think we’ve established that.” She smiled. Unfortunately, he did have a point about her dad. The old man loved Christmas with every fiber of his soul, and if he came home to this cheerless house, he’d probably regress in his treatment. Taking a step back, to where she couldn’t smell Caleb’s deep, manly scent that got the butterflies in her stomach drunk, she said, “Fine. If you want to break your back, I won’t stop you.”
“That’s the spirit,” Caleb said with way too much enthusiasm to not be completely sarcastic.
“Good luck.” She twittered her fingers at him.
He yanked down on the pull and a ladder spilled to the floor. Faith jumped back to avoid getting hit. Caleb climbed up without another word. Dust shook off the wood and landed on the carpet. She grumbled and went to the linen closet for the vacuum. A mess. That’s what holiday decorations were—a mess you left out for a couple weeks before finally having to clean it all up again.
And would Caleb be here to clean it up? No.
Dad wouldn’t be able to climb that ladder by January. It would be on her to put everything away—and she didn’t want it out in the first place. She vacuumed up the mess but decided to leave the vacuum out because he’d probably bring a bunch more dust bunnies down with him.
Ugh! That was it. She didn’t need to spend her day cleaning up after this wrangler. She’d go right on up there and put her foot down. No Christmas!
Chapter 16
Caleb
The attic was surprisingly organized. At least, it was compared to Caleb’s parents’ attic. They had more Christmas decorations than most New York department stores. Which was fantastic, because each year the house looked different and yet familiar. Mom was a wiz with all this stuff, but Caleb wasn’t a slouch. Twenty-some-odd years of putting up decorations and hanging out with Kringles had rubbed off on him.
He grabbed a strand of outdoor lights and hung them around his neck. Hanging them along the roof without a reindeer to help would be dangerous, so he’d have to settle for wrapping the front porch railing.
The rubber totes were clearly labeled, so it didn’t take him long to figure out what was for the tree and what was decoration. He tried to remember Doc’s place being decorated—the memories were fuzzy. Truth was, they didn’t come to Doc’s that often, as he spent most of his time at the ranch.
He opened a box labeled fireplace decorations and lifted out a stocking with Faith’s name on it. This he remembered. Doc hung it every year.
The ladder rattled and Faith’s head appeared. She looked around as if expecting a mouse to jump at her. When nothing happened, she climbed the rest of the way. Her short breaths and flaring—and still adorable—nostrils told him he was in for a fight.
Hoping to stave off the attack, he held up her stocking. “I found proof that you believed in Santa.”
She stopped short, staring at the stocking as if it were a ghost. “I remember that.” Closing the distance between them, she reached over to brush her fingers across the fur. “I haven’t seen this since before the divorce.” She took it from him carefully, like she was afraid it would disintegrate if she held it too tight.
Caleb turned away, sensing she wouldn’t want him to see the emotions painting across her features. “That must have been difficult. How old were you when