After the Christmas Party(17)
Telling herself she really did not like the woodsy scent filling her nostrils and that she’d probably have a rash on her hands from handling the branches, Trinity frowned. “Why do you have such a big tree?”
He waggled his brows, covering the last of the branches with lights. “You know what they say about men with big Christmas trees.”
The man was a certifiable nut. She must be too because she almost giggled. So much for her defenses. “They have big trees to compensate for their wee little…minds?”
He gave her a scolding look. “I could show you my wee little mind and put that theory to rest.”
“You wish,” she teased, before thinking better of it.
He reached for the snap at his waist.
“Fine.” She didn’t bother suppressing her eye-roll but tried really hard to keep her blush in check. “Please, tell me, oh great ginormous tree owner, why is your tree so big?”
His eyes sparkled and his grin almost knocked her off her feet. “The bigger the tree, the better to light up her world.”
“Her?” He hadn’t brought anyone with him to the hospital Christmas party, had spent the evening with her, had spent the night afterwards in her bed and flirted outrageously with her. He’d better not have a “her”.
“Your world?” he corrected, looking sheepish.
“I don’t need your compensatory huge tree lighting up my world. My world is just fine the way it is.”
Even as she made the bold claim, she wondered if perhaps she did because when he clicked a button and his tree sparkled to life, she had to admit, something inside her felt better. Warmer.
Lighter.
As if the button had turned on something inside her too that had been stuck in hibernation.
“Wow,” she gasped, unable to quash her surprise. “I have to admit, that’s beautiful.”
Exactly, Riley thought, but he wasn’t looking at the tree. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Trinity.
She was beautiful.
He wanted to light up her world, to see a permanent sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips.
Too bad he didn’t have a remote control that he could click and turn her on.
To turn her on in more ways than one.
Because he was turned on.
Had been from the moment he’d first noticed her at the Christmas party. Something about her got under his skin and made his body go haywire. Big time. Was it just that instead of chasing him, like most women did, she seemed intent on keeping him at arm’s length?
“Just wait until you see it after we’ve finished decorating,” he promised. “My tree, which I refuse to label as compensatory and would still be more than happy to set the record straight once and for all, will steal your breath, guaranteed.”
“I…” She glanced away then her lips tightened. “I seriously doubt that, but I do like the lights.” She wasn’t going to touch his offer apparently. Not that he’d really expected her to. “Let’s hurry and finish.”
“So you can leave?”
She met his gaze, her lips twitching lightly, letting him know she was fighting back a smile. “So I can have some of that dessert you promised but have totally failed to deliver.”
“Touché.” He laughed.
Yes, he really liked this woman, even if she professed not to like his favorite holiday. There had to be more to her claim than just a dislike of Christmas.
A more that he wanted to know every detail of so he could prove her wrong and show her the magic of the holidays.
CHAPTER FIVE
TRINITY DIDN’T LIKE Christmas at all and doubted she ever would. But when they’d finished decorating, she did think that Riley’s Christmas tree was beautiful. Magical even.
Plus, she had concluded that she did like the woodsy pine smell filling his living room. Why had she practically gagged on the scent for the past couple of years, comparing the outdoorsy aroma to spruce-scented household cleaner?
Because she didn’t like this holiday, she reminded herself.
From childhood this holiday had only ever held bad memories. Nothing good had ever come out of Christmas. Not for her.
She’d do well to remember that.
Riley’s constant smiles and holiday good cheer made her forget that she didn’t like a single thing about the season. Still, she was doing something to help someone who had helped her. Someone she genuinely liked and who hadn’t taken advantage of her.
“Thank you.”
“For?” he asked, studying her way too intently for her comfort.
She wanted to squirm, like a kid sitting on Santa’s lap. “Last night.”
“Nothing happened last night for you to owe me any thanks for.”
Was that how he saw the night?