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But maybe when one filled out a leather jacket like he did, a personality was strictly optional.
Karissa Black liked this
He was one of those highly observant folks who probably didn’t mean to be nosy but simply couldn’t help noticing every little detail.
Lord save us. If I didn’t put a stop to the runaway Gideon express, I was likely to have a lawn full of those inflatable glowing snowpeople with their serial killer grins and silly top hats. “I’m not sure—”
I liked a good blueprint myself, but I’d never had the prospect make me boogie.
Decorated? I did sanded, leveled, varnished, tiled, and more, but holiday decorations? Ones worthy of a proposal backdrop? No way.
I had waited years for Paul Frost to need something. A cup of sugar. A spare fan. An extra chair. He probably had me beat in the tool department, but I did have a drill I was rather fond of.
“I’ve even helped several friends propose.” Such was the consequence of getting older. I’d orchestrated proposals, consoled public breakups, officiated second weddings, and watched most of my crowd happily pair up. Luckily, I did love a good excuse to dress up.
“Don’t bother trying to find a piece of paper for a list. I’ll just use my phone.” I whipped out my oversized smartphone that functioned as a small tablet as well. “I’ve even got a stylus in my pocket.” Paul’s eyes went wide like I’d revealed I marched around with a sex toy at the ready. “What? I write faster with a good stylus.”
Guys our age didn’t crush. I appreciated his aesthetic appeal. That was all.
“Well, for starters, I’m on the neighborhood app. Aren’t you?” “No.” I’d heard about it, of course. People complaining about porch pirates and the late-running teens and ill-behaved dogs. I was still old-fashioned enough to be on the email list for the neighborhood association, and even then, it was a crapshoot whether I actually opened the newsletter.
“What is it with you and lights anyway? Why be so invested in the whole neighborhood glowing like a landing strip?”
Hell, forget shirtless pics. All he’d need to do is share snaps of his gleaming hardwoods and DIY prowess, and he’d have an inbox full of dudes ready to play house.
In my zealousness, I’d forgotten how truly painful the holidays could be for some. We all had our coping methods, and if he wanted to hibernate the holidays away, who was I to try to fracture what little peace he’d managed to find through boxing everything up tight?
“See?” Gideon gestured at the crowd. “Early pays. With any luck, they’ll still have flocking.” “Excuse me?” My brain was apparently still stuck on sex. “Fake snow, Paul. You must need a good flocking.” He grinned wickedly, and yes, yes I did.
Nothing about Gideon should have surprised me at this point, but I still blinked. “You have an app for that?” “I’ve got an app for everything,” he said, full of cocky swagger as we joined the line.
“I’ll be back with food, my lighting schematics, and timers to get started.” “Only you could make that sound exciting.”
He tossed the dog a look so fond I was almost tempted to go lie on the mat myself.
Using a pocketknife, he neatly unpacked all eight. Add another turn-on to my list because men who could expertly wield box cutters apparently did it for me. “Nice tool.”
I had to swallow. I’d seen holiday lights every season, but they hadn’t been mine in so very long that I’d forgotten about the magic, the fluttery feeling as something so familiar became something so precious and beautiful. The house looked…hopeful.
“Now, you can have the top.” “Uh…” “Of the tree, Paul. Of the tree.”
“I jog, but I’ve always thought that washboard abs were a trick of Hollywood lighting.”
Some skills got better with age, and I was only too happy to show off everything I knew and some tricks I made up on the spot.
“Fuck. Might need to count reindeer if you’re going to do that.” “Count away.”
Paul’s kitchen smelled like Christmas—sugar, butter, and flour combining for that magical scent that no candle or room spray company could ever hope to duplicate.
I wasn’t that extraordinary, simply an organized person with a side of too much free time for shopping.
With certain friend circles, I always felt this pressure to perform. Be witty. Be the one with the tastiest dish, the funniest one-liner, earn a repeat invitation.
“I’m sure it seems like I’m one roll of tulle away from going full-on bridezilla, but really, the joint project of wedding planning is going to be fun.”
“You don’t have to suddenly embrace shopping and seasonal decor.”
“Your bedding is plaid.” I’d been about to grab him for a kiss, but I had to stop and laugh. His bedding matched some of his ties and his Christmas pajamas and had smart piping along the edges. “I love it.”
“Yes, think of my poor dog and not my d—Hello, Molly.” Paul went from lecherous to upstanding citizen in three seconds as Molly Reed joined us.
“Gideon will undoubtedly make sure I get the reindeer up on time and that they’re not lonely. He talked me into snowmen—snowpeople—for the front yard next year too.”
