Chapter 13
Silver Bells drifts through the great room as Liberty marches toward the tree.
“All right,” she announces. “Lights first.”
“Roger that.” I catch up to her, crossing my arms. “But there’s a method—”
She snorts. “You put them on. It’s not tactical, Spence. It’s Christmas. Even families and kids do this.”
I look at her like she’s suggested we dismantle a bomb using chopsticks.
“No,” I correct, picking up the first string. You don’t just put them on. Lights are the foundation of the entire operation.”
“Operation?” she repeats slowly. “It’s a tree, Spence. Not a hostage situation.”
“Still,” I mutter, “mess up the lights and everything else is compromised.”
It’s true, but really I couldn’t care less how the lights go on. I just like watching her get riled up.
She rolls her eyes, grabs the other end of the string, and stalks toward the back of the tree. “Fine. Commander Christmas. Show me the tactical plan.”
I circle to meet her on the opposite side. “We start at the bottom. Work our way up in even rows. No gaps, plugs in the back.”
She closes her eyes dramatically and huffs. “Fine. We’ll do your way. But I get to climb the ladder.”
“No,” I say instantly. “Absolutely—”
She’s already dragging the ladder over the tree’s base.
“Liberty,” I warn. “I do the ladder.”
She hops onto the first rung.
“No. You’re in socks. That ladder’s old.”
Second rung.
“Down.”
Third rung.
“I’ve got outstanding balance!” she insists, holding her arms out to demonstrate, and my head almost explodes.
This woman is going to make me lose my mind.
“Look, I’m good!”
I move before she can get any higher, stepping behind her and wrapping my hands firmly around her waist. “Sweetheart, don’t make me—”
She wiggles one hip defiantly. “Or what? You gonna ban me from tree decorating? This is a group activity, and since it’s you and me, that means both of us.”
My eye twitches. “Don’t test me.”
She reaches up to hook the lights over a high branch, and her sweater lifts just enough to expose a soft strip of skin.
That’s it.
I lean in and give her exposed hip bone a tiny, sharp nip with my teeth.
Quick.
Wicked.
Very intentional.
She gasps, squealing. “Hey!”
I smile against her skin. “Got your attention.”
“You bit me!”
“Nipped,” I correct, sliding my hands up her sides, lifting her clean off the ladder before her brain can catch up. She lands in my arms, held against my chest with a soft thud. Her feet are dangling above the floor.
“You’re done with the upper branches.”
All of her curves are pressed against me. I’m in agony. This is pure delicious anticipation-building fuel.
But she’s prickly, and she shoves my chest with both hands. “You cannot just nip people when you disagree!”
“Correction,” I say calmly, carrying her two steps away from the ladder. “I can stop you from being dangerous.”
She’s frustrated. And smiling like she doesn’t know if she wants to yell at me or climb me.
“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters.
“You're harassing a man who’s been hanging onto his self-control like it’s his last parachute cord.”
This seems to please her, because there’s a definite twinkle in her eyes. Little she-devil.
I gently place her on the ground and hand her the other end of the lights. “You’re on low-branch duty.”
“Oh, my GOD.” She throws her hands up laughing. “You’re decorating like you’re on duty!”
I straighten and give her a stern look. “I am on duty. Protective detail for Liberty Cruze.”
This stops her for a second, then she gives me a small eye roll and a dismissive wave. “I kind of like that, but you’re still impossible!”
“And you’re not allowed on ladders.”
She narrows her eyes. “Says who?”
“Says the man who’s going to lose his mind if you put your sexy little ass in his face again while he’s holding ten feet of electrical wiring that makes him think about all of his rope-tying skills.”
Her mouth falls open.
Heat crawls up her neck.
Her cheeks flush prettily.
“Oh,” she breathes.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, leaning in. “Oh.”
The music swells with perfect timing to the rise in my pulse rate. She swallows. “Fine. I’ll do the low branches.”
My chest loosens just enough to breathe normally. “Good girl.”
If I’m not mistaken, her knees buckle a little.