The Geek Who Saved Christmas

“The new one has a bench. We can slide back and forth,” Piper reported as Simone made her way down the hall.

“Hi, Gideon.” Simone greeted me with a hug before pointing at the two giant cookies Joey was holding up. “I see you brought their weekly ration of sugar.”

“Lori can scold me later.”

“What did you do this time?” Lori swept in, long purple sweater flapping behind her.

“Was utterly horrible and brought your kids cookies.” I pretended to be contrite as we hugged.

“I guess I can let it slide. This time.” Rolling her eyes, she patted Joey’s dark head. “They’re all hyped already, though, because we told them about Christmas.”

“What about Christmas?” I asked.

Simone’s face went from its usual friendly openness to wide-eyed horror. “Lori, tell me you told Gideon.”

“Oh my God.” Lori slapped her forehead. “We had teacher conferences and a bout of strep, and then Simone had a work crisis, and I thought I told you. We’re going to Simone’s folks. They have a new condo in Florida. Christmas and Disney both. The kids are over the moon.”

“I bet.” My chest went tight, but I kept my voice easy.

“We’re so sorry.” Simone’s eyes were misty, which only served to make my spine that much stiffer.

“No worries at all. The grandparents will be thrilled to see the kids.”

“We’ll miss you though.” Lori rubbed my arm. Damn it. I never had been able to completely hide from her.

“And we’ll miss your potato-peeling skills,” Simone added with a laugh, but her face was still concerned, as was Lori’s.

“Eh. My fingers could probably use the break. I hope you have a wonderful time.” I made the mistake of glancing over my shoulder at Paul. His soft eyes were even worse than Lori’s and Simone’s sympathy. Pity was the absolutely most pointless emotion, and I’d happily endure fifty trashcan placement lectures from Paul than have him look at me like that. “And I’m being rude. Lori, Simone, this is Paul. My neighbor. Show us to the table, and we’ll be out of your hair shortly.”

“Right this way.” Lori led us to the dining room, which was crammed with both the new and old tables. Someone had stacked the chairs on top of the old one, and the four of us made easy small talk as we carried first the chairs then the table to the truck. Lori being Lori, coffee and whole wheat muffins were offered, but Paul was all business and predictably declined. Simone went to check on the kids as Lori and I watched Paul secure the load. Predictably, he’d waved off both our attempts to help.

“He’s quite the silver-fox hottie,” Lori whispered from our vantage point on the front porch. “Silent type, but nice.”

“Lori,” I warned.

“What?” She laughed, two-plus decades of friendship earning her more right to tease than most. “I can’t tell you to set some fox traps?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have the right kind of bait.”

“Nonsense. He keeps looking all murderous when I touch you.” Making her point, she threw an arm around my shoulders. Fascinatingly, Paul glanced up from his work with the bungee cords and frowned.

“Interesting.” I smiled as he looked away fast.

“All set,” he called as he hopped down from the truck bed and walked over to the porch.

“Thank you both. So much.” Lori gave us both hugs, and Paul’s resulting blush was damn cute.

“No problem.” Paul shuffled his feet, kicking some rock salt loose off the sidewalk.

“Drive safely. And seriously, Gideon, are you going to be okay for Christmas dinner?”

“Of course.” I waved away her concern. “Don’t worry one second about me. You know me. I’ve got plenty of options.”

“Yep, that’s you. Stack of invites.” She laughed fondly before hugging me a final time. “Take care.”

My gaze met Paul’s as I released Lori, a restless feeling gathering in my gut. I’d been wrong. This was weird. But it wasn’t the ex-factor or even the memory of the kiss. It was Paul and how damn much he seemed to see, even stuff I’d worked years to put a pretty spin on. All my uncomfortable energy wanted to do something. Run. Hide. Kiss him stupid. Maybe especially that last one.

Chapter Thirteen