A Lot Like Christmas (Wishful 11)
Get a freaking grip!
Needing one in a very literal sense, she clutched the ends of her scarf as if it were somehow an anchor in this extremely awkward social situation. “I’m Hannah Wheeler. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been sent by a secret Santa to decorate your house for the holidays.” She was too bubbly, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from babbling. “It’s this thing I’ve been doing around town—mostly window displays for local businesses, but someone asked me to stop by here to spread some Christmas cheer and—” Catching the glint of amusement in those serious chestnut eyes, she managed to cut herself off. “You’re not Percy, are you?”
“I am not.” Again with the rumbly tones.
Hannah’s knees wobbled. For heaven’s sake, girl, you act like you’ve never heard a deep voice before. Pull yourself together. Hoping she wasn’t drooling, she checked out what she could see of the dim interior. “Do I have the wrong house?”
“Nope.” He stepped back, opening the door wider and gesturing her inside.
She hesitated in the entryway, noting the scent of fresh paint and wondering what had been updated about the house. The whole place felt neglected and a little worn around the edges. Sad. Which fit with what Miss Betty had told her about its occupant. No wonder she’d been moved to intervene.
Soldier Hottie led her down the hall. She tried not to stare at his butt, she really did. But his cargo pants displayed it so well. The sight of it forcibly reminded her that driving wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t done in more than a year.
You are not breaking that streak right now and not with this guy. Eyes up, cupcake.
She managed to jerk them skyward a second before her guide turned to gesture her into a living room. Spying the old man encamped in an ancient recliner, she forced her feet into motion and fixed a smile firmly in place. “Percy Gannaway?”
“Yes?” He eyed her with all the wariness he might show a feral cat that wandered into his house.
“I’m Hannah Wheeler. I’m an interior designer, and I’ve been sent as a gift to decorate your house for the holidays.”
“Interior designer?” This from Soldier Hottie. “I thought you were a waitress.”
She glanced at him. “I am also a waitress at the moment.”
“That explains the utensil tree.”
“It does, yes.” She couldn’t tell from his inflection whether he actually liked the little tree at Dinner Belles or not.
A frown carved deep lines around Percy’s pinched mouth. “Who sent you?”
Shifting her attention back to him, she dialed up the smile, remembering Miss Betty’s insistence on remaining anonymous. “I can’t tell. It’s a Christmas surprise.”
Confusion and no little amount of suspicion darkened the old man’s face. “You’re not selling anything?”
“No, sir. Just trying to spread some Christmas cheer. I came by this afternoon to find out when would be a convenient time to decorate.”
He wanted to say no. The intention was written clearly on his face. So she pulled out the thing Miss Betty had assured her would change his mind. “I understand your house used to be one of the big showpieces in town come Christmas.”
His expression softened a fraction. “My late wife loved Christmas. People used to come from all over to drive by our place.”
“It was a helluva sight,” Soldier Hottie agreed.
What exactly was his connection to Percy? Miss Betty had said he had no family, so who was this guy? Didn’t matter. She wasn’t here about him. As gently as she could, Hannah smiled. “She sounds like she was a lovely woman. Wouldn’t this be a nice way to bring back a piece of her for the holidays? A tribute to the season she loved so much?”
Percy’s gaze turned speculative. “I haven’t much bothered with Christmas since she passed.”
Oh, that made her heart hurt. She loved Christmas so very much. She couldn’t fathom not celebrating at all. “I know it can be difficult. My first few Christmases after my Nana passed were really hard. I get my love of the holidays from her and it simply wasn’t the same without her there, in the middle of everything. But my sister and I always make her special iced butter cookies, and it brings her a
little closer to us.”
He went silent, his face shuttering, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. Maybe the loss was still too raw for discussion of traditions. Or maybe the fact that he had no one left to share those traditions with made his situation totally different.
When Percy straightened, his jaw set in a stubborn line, she expected a Thanks, but no thanks. Instead, he nodded. “You know what? You’re right. She’d be disappointed I haven’t kept things up without her. Let’s do it up big. Pull out all the stops.”
Hannah beamed. “I’d be absolutely delighted to do that.”
“You’re gonna need some help. I’m not as agile as I used to be—damned bursitis. But Ryan here is more than capable. He can be your assistant.”