Page 39 of Sugar Plum Serenade

“Yes it is.” Now she just had to find a way to tell Tuck…

Every timehe looked at Olive’s house, he noticed another Christmas doodad she’d added to the front porch. He wouldn’t be surprised to find an inflatable Santa in her yard early one morning when he pulled into his driveway.

This morning there were lights. Tiny, colorful lights were strung across the banister. Tuck stopped beside his truck to study her work. To be honest it looked like a trained monkey, more likely an untrained one, had strung those lights. They were bunched in one place, hanging crookedly in another, and instead of going up and over to the other side of the porch, they ran across the top step.

Was this a test? Did she know he’d be compelled to fix the messy lights?

After two in the morning she’d be sound asleep. He was still wound up from a busy night at The Magnolia so sleep wasn’t in his immediate future. There were plenty of nights he didn’t get to sleep until sunrise, and with Olive on his mind this was bound to be one of those nights.

Tuck crossed into Olive’s yard without making a sound. If the lights had been on the edge of the roof he’d never be able to fix the mess without making a lot of racket. He was glad to know she hadn’t gotten on a ladder to decorate, and just as glad to be able to fix this sad attempt.

As if he’d ever cared about Christmas decorations before. Olive cared, and that was all that mattered.

He worked slowly, quietly, starting at one end and working his way across. Untangling, reattaching the cord to the banister, lifting it off the step and up. She’d done it all wrong, but mentally picturing Olive taking on this job made him smile. She’d definitely done it on her own. If she’d asked for her brother-in-law’s help, Mike would’ve done a decent job.

He was almost finished when he heard a creak. The front door opened a crack. Just a crack, no more. On the other side of the narrow space one eye watched him. One deep brown, inquisitive eye.

“Don’t you know better than to open the door in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“I knew it was you,” she whispered.

“How did you know?”

“Who else would fix my decorating disaster at three a.m.?” The door opened a little wider. “Besides, I looked out the window to be sure. Want a cup of coffee or something?”

“No thanks. You should get back to bed.”

“I should,” she said. “So should you.”

He’d been avoiding her for days because he knew he couldn’t resist that kind of invitation…

Tuck walked toward the door. She opened it wide. Olive Carson stood there in rumpled Christmas pajamas that did not scream seduction. Her dark hair was messy; her feet were bare.

He’d never seen anything sexier.

“If I come in there will be no coffee. You know that.”

“I do.” She stepped back, asking him in.

“I’m trying to quit you,” he admitted as he approached her.

“I kinda figured that might be the case. Care to tell me why?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

She backed up; he went inside and closed the door behind him. The light from the hallway was dim, but he could see enough to note the changes. “It looks like Santa threw up in your living room.”

She laughed a little, moved toward and into him, and draped her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you.”

That was all it took. She squealed when he picked her up and carried her toward the back of the house and her bedroom. Her bed. His surrender.

“I lured you in,”Olive said as Tuck dropped her onto the bed. She’d heard movement on the front porch and had suspected it might be him. No, she’d known it was him. “Stringing Christmas lights is harder than it looks.”

“You could’ve asked for help.”

“You weren’t here, and Mike has his hands full. Who else am I going to ask? Besides…” Might as well confess. “I knew you’d be compelled to fix it for me, that my sad attempt would lure you to my front door.”

“You’re a wily woman,” he said as he started to undress.