The Geek Who Saved Christmas

“Likely.” He jerked his head in my direction. “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.”

I’d found that on clearance and added it to the cart, mainly because it had complicated wiring. Paul would need me to hook it to his main lighting scheme. Insurance. He said he wanted me, not my help, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have my talents at the ready.

“Go, Gideon.” Molly winked at me, and my cheeks heated.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t think the little kids are going to make it to midnight.” She sighed as a pack of like six kids under eight came barreling through the room.

“Or the big ones.” Paul gave me a meaningful look.

“We’re thinking of heading out early as well,” I added quickly, skin going from warm to supernova.

“Leaving? The party’s just getting started!” Cheryl breezed by with a tray of triangle-shaped pastries. But right as she reached us, her attention was diverted by the herd of kids discovering her new couch. “Oh! Savannah, honey, the couch isn’t a trampoline.”

“I don’t think she’ll notice if you sneak out,” Molly said in a stage whisper as Cheryl whirled away to go deal with the kids. “Go on, make a break for it while you can.”

“Come on,” I said to Paul, heading for the spare bedroom that had been turned into a coat room for the party. “Let’s find our coats.”

Laughing, we dodged a clump of teens hanging out in the corner of the coatroom, phones out and bored expressions firmly in place. Heading out into the night, I pulled my coat more securely around me because the cold snap from earlier in the week had continued. “Wow. It’s cold.”

“I know.” Paul huffed out a breath, little puffs visible against the frigid night air. “How did I let you talk me into walking?”

“Because it’s good for you, old man.” I bumped his shoulder.

“Ha.” Chuckling, he sped up his steps, not quite a jog but zooming ahead of me. “I’ll show you old.”

“Wait up.” I did jog to catch up but then abruptly came to a halt at the corner. The Morrison house was more lit up than usual, but it was the two large shipping containers out front that truly interested me. “Paul. Look.”

“Huh.” He returned to my side, his head tilting. “Two of those pod things. People only usually get those if they’re moving…”

“Exactly.” Pulse quickening, I stepped closer to the perimeter of their yard, using the flashlight on my phone to search.

“What are you doing?” Paul trailed after me.

“Looking for a sign,” I muttered. And the Morrisons potentially moving after all this time was definitely a sign from the universe, but I meant more the literal kind. A real estate one like the post I discovered to the left of the driveway. “Aha! Found it. They’re really moving.”

“Finally.” Paul watched as I plucked a sheet of paper from the clear plastic holder on the side of the sign. “How much?”

It was typical neighborly curiosity to want to know the asking price, but my chest felt unreasonably tight as I scanned the paper, which extolled the square footage and period-appropriate details. “Oh.”

“What?” Paul peered over my shoulder. “That’s not that awful. Market keeps going up around here. Your place will fetch more than you think if you want to try for it.”

“I should.” Several decades' worth of wistfulness laced my voice. The mortgage wasn’t the only issue. The place was going to need a huge cash infusion to bring out its potential. And repairs I didn’t know the most about, like rooves and windows. Teenage me hadn’t thought in practical terms when dreaming about the day the place could be mine. “But it needs a lot of work.”

“I could help with that.” Putting an arm around me, Paul pulled me closer.

“You could?” I was still caught up in my head, the intersection of years of dreaming and practical realities of what I’d even do with such a big house when I rattled around inside my existing one.

Going stiff, he made an indignant noise. “You still think I’m only in this thing for your decorating help?”

“No.” I bit my lip hard because that wasn’t precisely true. “I mean, maybe, but I’m working on believing you want to be with me as a relationship thing, not simply friends doing each other favors and falling into bed thing.”

“That was fun.” He kissed right below the brim of my hat. “But I’m too old for casual. And I want you to get this house. Let me help you make your dreams come true.”

A sound somewhere between gasp and moan escaped my throat. I wasn’t sure anyone had ever said anything that nice to me before, and I had no idea how to reply.

“I love you, Gideon.” Paul’s rough whisper hung between us, warm words cutting through arctic air.