The Geek Who Saved Christmas

“That too,” Paul groaned.

“And a dining set.” I made my way into the adjacent dining room, which was similarly gorgeous yet barren. French doors. White wainscoting. Not one but two built-in china closets. Floors so shiny, my inner eight-year-old longed to slide around in socks. “Is that chandelier original?”

“Picked it up at a reclamation place.” Paul scrubbed at his hair. “The one here was beyond repair. Walls were so grimy with peeling wallpaper, I wasn’t sure I’d ever reach the wallboard. And I should probably start a list of what’s needed. Kitchen table’s too tiny to work in here.”

“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.”

I started a new list entitled “Paul’s Perfect Holiday Project,” smiling at my alliteration and pun both. I had a feeling we were on a budget, so I added a column for cheap fixes. Luckily for Paul, my contacts list was bulging with people with cluttered houses and kind hearts. Like with networking schematics at work, I functioned best with a clear color code, so I started a legend at the top for essential, ideal, and optional projects.

“Why are you doing this?” Paul asked as I clicked around the screen, humming softly. I couldn’t help it. This was simply too exciting.

“Taking notes?” I asked absently as I guestimated the length and width of the dining room. “I’m going with red for the projects that absolutely must be done in time.”

“Helping. Why are you helping?” He sounded both bewildered and frustrated. Understandable. I did have a tendency to take over.

“Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. I do love a good challenge.”

“Making me a list is a mental exercise?” Paul pursed his mouth like he didn’t quite believe me. And oh, how cute that he thought I’d leave him with a list and no help executing it.

“That, and I have a feeling I’m getting something out of it.” My voice was all light from picturing the perfect oval table to play off the room’s unusual angles.

“Oh?” Paul went all suspicious, and too late, I remembered his reaction to my last proposition. Even with him looking edible in an Eagles sweatshirt, worn jeans, and silver-haired scruff, I’d been distracted by the scope of his dilemma, not as tongue-tied with sexy thoughts as usual. Definitely not picturing trading any sort of X-rated favors either, but now that he’d made my brain go there…

Don’t do it. I made an effort to slow my suddenly galloping heart rate. Heading down that mental path would be a mistake. I couldn’t have him thinking I wanted in his jeans or that I was harboring some sort of crush. Guys our age didn’t crush. I appreciated his aesthetic appeal. That was all. I would offer this same help to anyone. Yeah right. Okay, maybe I didn’t entirely believe my own logic, but I still managed a dismissive laugh.

“Lights, Paul. I’m getting lights for the neighborhood display out of this. I assume your brother already knows you don’t do holidays, but your future sister-in-law will notice if you’re the only dark house in our magical wonderland.”

“Brandon doesn’t,” he mumbled. “I used to make more of an effort when he was around.”

“So you have some decorations?” I sensed a story there, but his rigid body language said I wasn’t getting it, at least not then. And if this was the brother’s first homecoming in a long while, Paul needed my help even more. A good impression could go a long way.

“I’ve got a box in the attic. Somewhere.” He gestured vaguely toward the stairs.

“Okay. We can work with that. And I’ll handle the outside decorating, same as I told you I would. Luckily, I still have those plans I drew up.”

Which he’d have known if he’d responded to any of my overtures to get him to talk lights the last couple of weeks.

“You actually did make plans?” Rubbing his neck, he glanced sheepishly at me. “I’m sorry I put you off.”

An apology was more than I’d expected, and my chest went warm and tight. “It was nothing. Doodles.”

“You did work.” His voice was firm, commanding enough to make me shiver despite my fleece pullover. “And you’re offering to do more work here. I can pay—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” No way was I taking his money. We might not be friends, but I did this sort of thing for my crowd all the time. Need a master bedroom refresh? Call Gideon. Need a birthday party planned? Gideon will help. I was nothing if not good at throwing together random bargain finds to bring together a theme. “You’re already donating a path to the neighborhood, and this is the sort of thing I enjoy. You’re practically doing me a favor, letting me play around with your decorating.”

Eyes narrowed, he shook his head. “I would have figured your December would be too packed to worry about someone else’s issues.”

Actually, he would be surprised how empty parts of the month could be for me and how hard I worked to keep busy. But we weren’t here to talk about me. “I’ve got the usual obligations, but I can work this in, no problem.”

“I’m not sure…” He was waffling. I was sure of it. He needed me, but he had the sort of stubborn pride I’d seen before. Admirable, but unnecessary.

“Don’t worry. I intend to put you to work too.” His sort always responded well to feeling useful, like when I’d ask a stuffy professor to hold a cable for me or press restart back when I did more hands-on IT work. “I’ll come up with a plan, but you can help with the executing.”

“Generous of you.” Paul quirked his mouth as if he was thinking of smiling. Oops. Maybe he wasn’t the same as someone at work feeling overwhelmed by technology and wanting my expertise. I was being a bit bossy.

Again.

I really did need to work on that. “Sorry. I do like to lead, but I can get carried away sometimes.”