The Geek Who Saved Christmas

“Hi, neighbors!” Cheryl bustled out of her house, and I stifled a groan. Without her interruption, I totally would have been kissing Gideon right then.

“Gotta have strength for this monster couch,” I joked as we exited the truck, trying to pretend like I hadn’t been centimeters from planting one on him again.

“Wait till you see.” Gideon had a hug for Cheryl, who seemed utterly delighted to see us. She had a red Christmas sweater on, and she’d sold Gideon on a wreath for some fundraiser even before she had the garage open. Raising the door, she revealed a packed garage. Boxes. Furniture. Ancient exercise bike. And a massive, incredibly ugly blue couch.

“Wow. This is the perfect nap couch.” I whistled as I approached the beast. Gideon’s forehead furrowed, clearly confused. “Sorry. That’s what my dad called a similar one we had that he refused to part with. Loved that big old, lumpy workhorse.”

Running a hand along the back of the couch, I had to closely study the worn fabric rather than let those memories take over.

“So you’ll take it?” Cheryl asked eagerly.

“Yep. I’ve got your cash here.” I dug out my wallet, but Cheryl batted at my hand.

“Put that away. Your money’s no good here, Paul Frost.”

“I can’t take it for free.” I’d told Gideon. No charity. But Cheryl was shaking her head with a determined glint to her eyes.

“You’re saving it from the dump. If you feel guilty, come help me plant a few blooms come spring. Not one of my sons has your green thumb. I hear glowing things about your company.”

“Thanks. And will do. You’ll have the best yard on the block if I have any say in the matter,” I promised.

“You’re too kind.” She blushed and tugged on her sweater. “I’m going to go wrap up a cookie platter for each of you while you load up the couch and the chairs. And anything else you spy here is fair game as well.”

“Excellent.” Gideon wandered away from the couch, same expression he had in the Christmas store when he sniffed a bargain. “Paul could use this lamp and side table.”

He carted them both to the truck before I could object, and Cheryl was chuckling as she made her way back to the house.

“You’re a good guy,” he said as I sized up the couch, trying to decide how best to approach it.

“Not really.” I lifted one corner, testing. “If I do good work for Cheryl, that’s word of mouth for my crew. Smart business. That’s all.”

He wagged a finger at me. “Uh-huh. I’m on to you.”

He could be on me any time he wanted, but of course, I didn’t say that. “Let’s scoot it as close to the truck as we can. The less lifting, the better.”

“Aye, aye, boss.” Gideon followed my directions as we wrestled the couch into the truck. Me being in charge was a nice novelty, but I was too busy hefting a zillion pounds of couch to enjoy Gideon taking orders.

“Damn. This truly is an elephant,” I grunted as I shoved.

“Warned you. Mind your back.” Gideon was couched low, voice as strained as mine.

“I’m fine. More worried about your knees,” I shot back. I wasn’t that old, even if I would likely feel this for the next few days.

“Oh, my knees still work.” Gideon batted his eyes at me, eyelashes almost long enough to brush his glasses lenses. Why had I never noticed exactly how expressive his eyes were before now?

“Behave.” I meant me as much as him. I needed to focus on the job at hand. With one last shove, the couch was finally in position. “Here comes Cheryl.”

“Cookies for the road,” she announced, holding out two wrapped paper plates. “Feel free to swap with each other.”

She tittered like she’d accidentally made a dirty joke, which made my skin heat. Last thing I needed was neighborhood matchmakers. Gideon was tempting enough without people pushing us together.

I needed to put this stupid fascination with him aside, but hell if I didn’t like working with him, watching his sturdy body flex and bend back at my place as we unloaded. Back in bossy mode, he directed me this way and that as he positioned the furniture. Jim watched us from her bed, letting the foolish humans do all the work. Finally, after endless rearranging, Gideon made a satisfied noise that went straight to my dick.

“It’s a start.” He stepped back from straightening one of the chairs.

“It’s more than a start.” I flopped onto the couch, suddenly aware of exactly how exhausted I was. And turned on, a day in Gideon’s company doing wonders to make my internal furnace hum like it was July. “It’s like a real house now.”

“Yep. How did you survive this long without a couch?” Gideon sat next to me, voice still perky, but he had a weary set to his shoulders and eyes. Fading light from outside wiggled in past the cracks in the front blinds.