Chapter Seven
Summer stood back and studied the results of her decorating.
Thank God, Chad - the best brother-in-law ever - made time to bring her a live Christmas tree from the Stanwick’s tree farm.
The green fir was about a foot shorter than she’d envisioned, but she’d forgotten how tall the ceilings were in this house.
She in no way wanted a ten-foot tree, so the seven-foot one worked in front of the living room window.
Chad, bless him, brought the tree inside, put it in the stand for her, had coffee, then rushed out the door to pick up the boys at a play date.
Slender and bushy, she checked the tree for bald spots and chewed her lip. “Come on, Summer. This isn’t a painting.” But she wanted it perfect. For Tom.
She walked through the decorating process in her head, deciding on white lights. By the time, she’d climbed the chair seven times to wrap them around the tree, she needed a timeout to breathe. “I am so starting a cardio class.”
She carefully lifted the lighted angel with the wide satin dress and long lace ribbons.
She’d borrowed this one from Helen and Bill because it closely matched the ones she’d bought.
Standing on the chair again, she leaned with care to put it over the top of the tree.
“I’m buying a ladder next year.” Tom was a good seven inches taller.
He could do this without one, darn him. Plugging the lighted ornament into the cords left her swearing.
Back on the ground, she counted how many green and white balls she had and started on the window side of the tree.
She wasn’t putting much else on there when the neighbors only cared about the effect of the lighted tree not the decorations.
Next year, she would find white pearl strands to drape around the tree, too.
Scattering the balls randomly until she had none left, she sighed, excitement taking over.
Angel time. She grinned like a fool because no one would see.
The house was quiet, the grandmother clock ticking, and the smell of the pine soothing.
She laid out the porcelain and crystal angels and followed her intuition to space them around the front of the tree.
Several were heavy and needed tucked further in, but the effect left angels peeking from the limbs.
Following her green and white theme, she sorted through the old-fashioned ornaments from her grandfather’s box and used more than a dozen in muted tones to fill in.
She stepped back with two more ornaments in her hand and decided to put them back. The tree was finished and beautiful. It needed nothing else.
Tired, she wanted to sit and bask in the work, but she took out her phone and snapped pictures from every angle, went outside and checked the lights in the window, and triple checked placement of tree, lights, and ornaments. The mass of twinkles filling the window thrilled her.
Across the street, Mrs. Patch would get the full effect to enjoy.
In the evening darkness, the weather was warm, but clouds hovered holding the rain.
Judging the tree passed inspection, she went back in and cleaned the mess.
The green-striped, ribboned Christmas wreath with the candy canes she’d found at the Catholic Church’s Christmas Bazaar went on the front door.
She planned to wrap the railings of the front porch with lights another time if Tom didn’t get the job done.
Dinner sat in the refrigerator from Clem’s. She quickly vacuumed the living room. She glanced at the clock and chucked the rest of what she’d planned. Tom would be home soon. Time to roll to the next stage of the plan.
She went up the stairs two at a time, changed from her dirty clothes, and pulled on her black yoga pants, a black camisole, and a fitted red shirt. Spritzing herself with perfume and freshening her makeup and hair, she left the bathroom. Back in the bedroom, she turned down the bed.
Her husband might be tired when he got home, but she’d coax him into the mood – after they’d eaten and enjoyed the tree.
“Summer!” Tom’s voice preceded the front door clicking shut, and she went to the top of the stairs, nerves twisting in her stomach.
She’d never pulled off a seduction before.
She moved slowly down the steps while he removed his weapon and stored it in the gun safe.
He watched her descend the stairs, puzzled expression on his face. Uh-oh.
“Hi.”
He gazed at her from her brushed hair to her red nail-painted toes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Finished the tree decorating and a few other chores.” She walked to him, disturbed at his grumpy countenance, and pulled him into a kiss. She skipped the welcome home peck and went right to serious.
“Hmmm.” He slanted his mouth to fit hers and wrapped her close. Gratified that he shook off some of his mood to follow her lead, she nonetheless wanted his duty belt gone. His clothes gone would be good, too, but not yet.
“What are we doing?” His whispered breath across her skin sent shivers down her spine.
“I’m saying hello.” She caressed his throat with her lips.
“Hell of a hello.” He tipped his head so she had better access to his neck, and let his hands slip to her backside. “I like you being home.”
“I have chicken bacon bites, baked potatoes, and green bean casserole in the fridge from Clem’s. Easy dinner and easy clean up. Sofa time. Enjoy the tree.” She gave him a final kiss and pulled away, grabbing his hand to take him to the living room. “Ta-da!”
He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, gazing at the tree. “I saw it from the street, but it’s much better from in here. Beautiful, sweetheart.” He stepped closer and fingered the angels. “Slades?”
“Yes. I raided his angel supply.” She lifted his arm around her shoulder and kissed his jaw. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Let me change.” He didn’t move.
“Do you need help?”
“Yes. I do.” He took her free hand, twirled her, and made his way up the stairs in a slow plod, with her hand firmly in his. Summer fought to keep the smile off her face, but satisfaction spread.
The steps creaked under their combined weight, but the sound had always been a comfort to Summer. “I used to sneak out down these stairs. They don’t creak so bad on the sides.”
“I figured you’d use a window.”
“I wasn’t a climber. I always figured I’d fall, then Grandpa would hear me, and I’d be in trouble. At least if I went down the stairs, I could tell him I was going for a walk or some such thing, but he never caught me.”
“Who were you sneaking to meet?”
“I used to paint. Night scenes. And I’d go stand on the corner by your parents’ house waiting to see you.”
He stopped at the top of the stairs and pulled her next to him. “You were stalking me?”
“Yep. Right out in the open. I was na?ve and infatuated.” She followed him into their bedroom.
She gave herself a mental pat for spending twenty minutes this afternoon putting her clothes to right, making the bed, and vacuuming.
She simply closed the door on her painting room across the hall.
He never said anything, but she knew there were times when her disarray in the house bothered him.
The man was more precise with his clothes, work gear, and possessions than she was.
They all had a place and he kept them there.
He turned around by the bed but made no comment on the room. “Like you stalked me today?” He untied and shed his boots.
“Today? I never saw you today.” Dammit. The man had radar.
“You weren’t in town?”
“Yes, I was in town. Clem’s for food, stopped at Sal’s Grocery and the pharmacy, and I went by your parents’ house to check their leftover decorations because Slade’s was almost out of the good stuff.”
He released her hand and went to his dresser. His pockets emptied, his duty belt came off, and he stretched to hang it on his closet door. “I could have sworn I saw you by the high school and again by Mrs. Heigl’s. Had calls both those places.”
“Nope, not me.” She hoped her face stayed neutral with interest, but he still had suspicious eyes.
He raised a brow, not challenging her while stripping off his shirt.
Whoa. This man. Summer’s heat factor rose, flushing her body with tingles.
The warmth of him within her reach? Better than a chocolate binge, painting, and just about anything else.
She struggled to contain the wash of lust, wanting to stay focused on her plan.
The man had muscles and knew how to use them – even when he didn’t know the sexiness of his moves slayed her.
His white T-shirt stripped, he tossed both shirts into the laundry basket.
The expanse of bare skin begging to be touched jammed the air in her lungs. Maybe a little deviation from the plan.
“You’re staring again.” Tom grinned at her and unbuttoned his pants.
“No, you’re teasing me.”
“I don’t tease. I’m deadly serious. Especially when it involves getting naked with you.”
She agreed with the sentiment and stepped closer.
“I need a shower.” He sat on the edge of the bed to lift off his pants and remove his socks. He pulled off his watch and laid it on the table by the bed.
Summer registered his slumped, tired shoulders and pulled her red top off leaving her in a black camisole and black yoga pants.
She got on her knees, scooting across the bed behind him, and dug firm fingers into his neck and shoulders.
He twisted and stretched his tall frame across their bed, settling on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms. He sighed deeply.
“Relax, honey,” she whispered, shifting to straddle him. “We’ll smooth out your long day.”
“With those hands, I’ll let you do all the smoothing you’ve want. Anywhere you want.”