The Geek Who Saved Christmas

“Maybe that’s part of why I love light displays so much. But I’m forty-two, and I still sleep with the hall light on because my inner six-year-old still isn’t over being alone in the dark and hearing my parents argue. So I get it. Some fears you can’t outgrow.”

“Yeah.” Reaching behind him, he none too-subtly flipped on the light for the dark living room behind him. “Think there’s room in the plan for an artificial tree?”

“Absolutely.” I’d already arrived at a good solution on the fly. “And not a big-box store either. There’s that historic hardware store in downtown Evergreen. They always have a display. Top-quality ones. We’ll go tonight.”

I rubbed my hands together, liking this new idea more and more.

“We can still get a real one for you,” he offered. “I don’t want to ruin your plans.”

“Don’t be silly.” I waved his concern away as Jim wandered in from the back of the house. “It’s just me this year anyway. I should get a nice tabletop one as a backup for years when a real one is harder to come by anyway.”

Usually, I could count on Lori and the kids coming by, at least once, and other friends as well, but this year was looking decidedly lean. All the more reason to appreciate the distraction of Paul and this project.

“So, you were thinking of going right now?” he asked, stooping to pet Jim’s furry head. The dog really did seem to have a sweet disposition, and my own quirk about big dogs was something I wanted to get over, and not simply because I wanted more repeat invitations to Paul’s house.

“Um, yeah. The—”

“Schedule.” Paul nodded and headed toward the kitchen, Jim and me both following. “Got it. Let me feed Jim real quick.”

“I’m the one with the neuroses,” I admitted as Paul fetched a dog dish. “Neither of my parents know how to plan. Visitations were always getting changed at the last minute. I never knew which house I’d be at on any given weekend. And after my grandfather died, my dad talked my grandmother out of her previous plans, got her to move to Florida with him on a lark. I need my plans.”

“I understand, Gideon.” Pausing his work, he squeezed my shoulders. “I don’t color code, but if I don’t check the smoke detector batteries on the third of every month, I get antsy.”

“We’re a good pair.” I laughed. It felt nice, not needing to hide and finding something of a like soul. My shoulders felt lighter than they had in years, laughter that much freer.

“We are.” Looking up from feeding Jim, he met my gaze, but I couldn’t tell whether he was matching my humor or maybe something more serious. Still trying to make sense of his expression, I hung back while he grabbed his coat from a hook near the kitchen door. “I’ll leave the lights on for when we’re back.”

My face heated. He was so good to me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s two lights.” He shrugged. “And I’m not twenty-five with way more month than pay. I can leave a light on.”

“Thanks.” I held out a hand, and he took it, fingers interwined the whole way to his truck, which was better suited to hauling a big box with a tree than my car. His grip was warm and solid, and I liked how naturally our hands fit together. I’d intended the gesture to be playful, but there was nothing humorous about the way my stomach fluttered from the contact.

The historic downtown Evergreen, right on the mainline train from the Philadelphia city center, did December right, everything from the train depot to the little shops decked out in white lights and each streetlamp featuring a jaunty red bow.

“I always forget how pretty downtown is all lit up.” I slowed our pace so I could admire everything as we walked from the lot where we’d finally found parking toward the collection of shops that rimmed the town square.

“It really is.” Like me, Paul had his hands in his pockets. No repeat of earlier when his hand in mine had felt so right. But even without holding hands, our stroll still felt romantic with the decorations all around us. In the center of the square, a seasonal Santa’s village display was closing up shop for the night while a caroling group strolled around, singing familiar tunes. Local groups raising money for various charities alternated nights to carol, adding to the throwback feel of the area. “Brandon used to say it was something out of a movie, the trees and carolers and display windows.”

“I bet his girlfriend will love it too. It’s hard not to love. I always feel like a kid coming down here.”

“I know.” He gave me an indulgent smile, not unlike the one he gave Jim before we left. My chest swelled. Paul made me want so much more than simply another round of sex. Every time he looked at me like that, like I was special, I ached with wants I thought I’d packed away a long time ago.

The hardware store played up its early 1900s roots with a Victorian-themed window display and gleaming wood fixtures festooned with greenery.

“We need the biggest, fluffiest artificial tree you have,” I told the young clerk near the door.

“You’re in luck. We have just one box left of the deluxe model.” She led us over to a grouping of decorated trees near the front of the store. The largest tree was taller than Paul, wide with dense branches and impressively authentic fir tree coloring.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” I could already envision it in the corner at Paul’s house.

“It’s sure massive.” Paul whistled before circling the floor model. “Will it fit?”

I snorted. “Trust me. I measured. This is prime proposal backdrop.”

“Oh, congrats!” The clerk grinned wide enough to strain her freckles.

“Not us,” I said hurriedly. “His brother. But we need perfection.”