Wrapped Up In Christmas

Not to mention what a blessing she was to those she came into contact with. And those she didn’t come into actual physical contact with.

Such as himself, before he sought her out.

She glanced up from where she stood near the gate, talking with the families of the children who would soon be rushing into the playground with their large red stocking-shaped plastic sacks, and caught him watching her. Her gaze searched his, questioning him.

Bodie winked, surprising himself.

Her eyes widened. Then, smiling, she winked back, looking quite pleased as she turned toward a journalist from the local paper who was taking photos of the anxiously waiting kids.

At Sarah’s wink, Bodie’s chest did that fluttery thing that made him feel a little light-headed. He dug his fingernails into his palms.

Harry glanced up, whimpering as if he knew something weird had happened.

“Yeah, I know, boy.” He bent, petted the dog. “I know.”

The fluttery feeling in his chest wasn’t some missed medical ailment.

It was his reaction to Sarah. He’d never known anyone like her.

Holding up a battery-operated microphone, she got the attention of the crowd, and with the help of several volunteers, got the kids into age categories. Making sure each child had their ornament-collecting bag, Sarah opened the gate and let the two-year-old kids begin hunting.

Or more aptly, the two-year-old kids’ parents, as they encouraged and helped each toddler collect ornaments and drop them into their stocking.

Keeping an eye on her watch, Sarah let group after group into the playground. She laughed at something one of the parents said before turning her smile to an older man who’d come to talk to her.

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

Having heard her approach, Bodie continued to watch Sarah rather than turn to Maybelle.

“You don’t have to say anything for me to know your answer to my question,” the older woman pointed out, leaning against the fence and watching a smiling Sarah encourage the children.

“What is it you’d have me say?” Bodie asked.

“That you aren’t going to hurt my girl.”

Bodie shifted his gaze to Maybelle and fought wincing beneath her all-knowing blue eyes. “Why would I hurt Sarah?”

Maybelle was taking no quarter. “You tell me.”

“I’m her handyman. She’s my boss. Nothing more.” His mind flashed to when he’d held her hand earlier. Did all handymen get fluttery feelings in their chest when they held their boss’s hand? Did all handymen look into their boss’s eyes and get swept away by what shone in Sarah’s pretty brown eyes?

Maybelle snorted. “You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“There’s no need for me to convince myself. It’s true.” It was. He felt protective of Sarah. She’d done something nice for him and he wanted to do something nice for her. He’d attached so much emotion to his quilt that it was only natural he’d feel a connection to its maker. That was all that fluttery feeling was, all that his holding her hand had been.

Maybelle harrumphed. “If you believe that, then you’re not nearly as smart as I’ve given you credit for.”

Bodie ignored her jab, glanced around. “Where are the rest of your cronies? I thought you traveled as a pack.”

To his surprise, Maybelle’s painted lips curved upward. “Not always. The rest of the girls are working at the booth and I’m meeting Sarah’s father here to clean up after the hunt.”

Bodie crammed his hands into his jean pockets. “You need an extra set of hands?”

Obviously pleased with his offer, Maybelle chuckled. “Don’t let it be said that I ever turned down a willing volunteer.”

That her words were echoes of Sarah’s caused Bodie’s lips to twitch.

Sarah might not have had her birth mother to shape her into the woman she was today, but the Butterflies and her aunt had sure stepped up to the plate, influencing so much about her.