He set the tree down and grinned up at her, rugged and handsome in his sheepskin jacket.
“It’s a basketball hoop for the baby. Never too soon to start thinking about her athletic training.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “Ho ho ho. I wasn’t planning to have a tree this year, with everything else going on. It’s such a hassle.”
He shook his head. “I know you said that, but you have to have a Christmas tree. I’ll set it up and decorate it and you won’t have to do a thing. You do have a stand and ornaments and all that, right?”
She sighed. “Down in the basement somewhere. You can look around if you like.”
“Great,” he said, picking up the tree again and disappearing from view when he reached the porch.
Erin closed the window and went to put on a robe and slippers before going downstairs.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. When he wasn’t at the garage—and thanks to the custom motorcycle business he and Mark had just launched, his days there were getting longer—Jake seemed to spend every waking hour hovering over her, doing things for her, and ordering her to eat better and get more rest.
She wasn’t sure if he was overcompensating because he didn’t love her or if he was just being protective, but whatever the reason, it was starting to drive her crazy.
Of course, there were times it could be endearing, she thought as she watched him wrestle the Christmas tree across her threshold. Which was really too bad, because her life would be a lot simpler if she could just hate him.
They’d never talked about Thanksgiving night. The next time they saw each other, they acted like it had never happened.
Erin had been grateful at the time that she didn’t have to revisit her humiliation. But as the weeks passed, she could feel how her unanswered words had put distance between them.
It wasn’t like she was cutting him out of her life or anything. She was scrupulously careful to include him in all her doctor’s appointments and shopping expeditions, and they’d spent last weekend baby proofing the house together.
But she also stiffened up a little every time he came near, especially when he put a hand on her stomach to feel the baby. She didn’t do it deliberately, but she didn’t try particularly hard to overcome it, either. Her latest lesson in the hopelessness of loving Jake Landry had cut deep, and maybe this time it had even sunk in. The more he hovered the more careful she needed to be.
Especially because he was here every evening and most mornings, too—and all day on the weekends.
And now here he was again, bringing her a Christmas tree.
She went into the kitchen to make herself a pot of decaf, and by the time she came out again he had the tree up in the living room and was starting to open up her boxes of ornaments.
“It’s way too early for this,” she groused, resenting her pregnancy caffeine ban more than usual this morning. “Also, the tree’s crooked.”
“It is?” He glanced up at it. “Well…maybe a little.” He crouched down by the base and loosened the screws holding the trunk in place. “Which way?”
“Um…a little to the left. A little more. No, too much. Right there, stop! That’s perfect.”
He got to his feet and studied it. “You’re right. Thanks.”
“I specifically told you I didn’t want a tree,” she reminded him as he went back to the ornament boxes. He found the one that held her lights and started untangling them.
“You have to have a tree. It’s the baby’s first Christmas.”
She sat down on the couch and wrapped both hands around her warm coffee mug. “This is not the baby’s first Christmas. That’s next year. There’s no obligation to provide Christmas this year.”
“It’s not an obligation. It’s a natural expression of the joy of the season.”
“I don’t feel joyful. I feel fat and uncomfortable and cranky.”
“You’re not fat.”
“But I’m cranky, huh?”
“Not enough to make Santa’s naughty list,” he reassured her, finishing wrapping the lights around the tree and plugging them in.
He stood back to admire the effect. “Time for the ornaments,” he said, unplugging the lights again and pulling a shiny red ball out of one of the boxes. “Are you sure you don’t want to help?” he asked, dangling the ball as if he were tempting her with a treat.
She struggled up off the couch and took the ornament from him. “If it will get you out of here faster, then yes.” She hung the ball and took the next one from his outstretched hand. “Don’t you have to be at the garage today? I thought you were working on that new order.”