14. Lucy
fourteen
Lucy
“Maybe a little higher on the left.”
Nate shoots me a glare as he walks to the other side of the fireplace to lift the left side of the banner that I had him lower a moment ago. I fight a smile at his expression, but one corner of my mouth isn’t obeying.
Kathryn Walker tilts her head from one side to the other, then nods. “Yes, that’s much better. Good call, Lucy.”
Nate rolls his eyes. “Okay. If the two of you are finished with me, I have a few things I need to take care of before the party.”
Kathryn chuckles. “Go. But don’t go too far. We still have the streamers to put over the door.”
He shakes his head as he disappears through the foyer and up the stairs, mumbling, “Pizza and balloons would have been so much simpler.”
Kathryn smiles as her hazel eyes roam the room. “This has turned out so cute. I was wondering how he was going to pull this off.” She nudges my elbow with hers. “I’m glad you stepped in and helped.”
My cheeks heat as I smile at her compliment.
I scan the room, taking in the pink and gold ‘Happy Birthday’ banner over the fireplace—which looks so much better after Nate unblocked it and cleaned it up—the balloon arch over the wide doorway between the living room and dining room, and the small pile of gifts lined up in the bay window seat.
This last-minute Hobby Lobby haul is coming together nicely.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I couldn’t pass up a chance to spoil Quinn a little.”
She laughs and sets her hand on my arm. “I don’t know what Nate would have done without you the last few weeks. I told him I’d close the bakery and keep Quinn, but he was adamant that he would figure something out. He wanted to honor Violet and Landon’s wishes.”
I nod and draw a deep breath. “I’m happy to help out, Kathryn. I love spending time with Quinn. Keeping her has helped me as much as it has helped Nate.”
She hums, her brows pulling toward the center of her forehead. “Yes, Nate told me your hours were cut at the preschool. Why on earth would they do that to you?”
I lift a shoulder in a shrug that I’m hoping looks nonchalant and not like I’m trying to hide my frustration over the situation. “The preschool director and the school’s headmaster had some budget disagreements.”
She shakes her head, drops her hand from my arm, and picks up the pink floral banner we’re planning to hang in the bay window. “It’s a shame. Their loss is our gain, though.”
Smiling, I slide a roll of painter’s tape onto my wrist like a bracelet, cross the room to the bay window, and move the gifts so we can hang the banner without risking the gift bags getting crushed.
Kathryn grabs a chair from the dining room for me to stand on, but as I step onto the chair, it gives a little wobble.
“Be careful, honey. These chairs are older than you are. I found them at an antique store several years ago, and Nate refinished them before he bought this house.”
I nod and set my feet on the edges that seem to be the sturdiest, finding my balance and reaching for the banner in Kathryn’s hand. “I’ll be careful.”
She holds the chair as I stand on my tiptoes to reach the top of the window frame and tape the banner to the corner.
When I have it secured, I lean back to check my work, and the old thing groans beneath me.
With a nervous chuckle, I step down and scoot it to the other side of the window.
Before I can climb back up, Quinn calls out from the monitor on the mantle across the room.
Kathryn pats my shoulder. “I’ve got her. I’ll get her dressed for the party, too.”
I nod and step up onto the seat as she leaves the room and climbs the steps to the second floor.
It wobbles again, but I balance my weight along the edges.
As I lift the banner to secure it to the window frame, I realize that I’ve set the chair a little too far away, and I’ll have to stretch to reach the corner.
I brace my knees against the backrest and lean my left hand against the wall to steady myself as I tuck the banner string, with tape already applied, onto the corner of the window frame.
“Please tell me that’s painter’s tape and not—”
Nate’s deep voice startles me, and my stomach lurches as I feel the chair tip beneath me.
Unable to catch myself or stop the chair from tumbling, I brace for impact and pray that I don’t break the window with my fall.
I close my eyes as I free-fall and land in something that wraps itself around me and smells strongly of Nate’s familiar cologne.
“Are you okay?”
Nate’s voice rumbles through my body, and I freeze, feet hovering above the floor, arms tucked close to my chest, and eyes still shut tight. I’m about ninety-five percent sure that Nate Walker caught me mid-fall off his dining chair… and he’s still holding me.
I wrench my eyes open and see nothing past his neck and clean-shaven jaw. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Embarrassment floods my cheeks with heat. This whole situation is mortifying, and my voice coming out all squeaky and breathless doesn’t help.
“Are you sure?”
I nod against Nate’s chest and tuck my hair behind my ear to distract myself from the way his voice sends shivers down my spine. “Yeah, you can put me down now.”
“Oh.” He sets me on my feet, but keeps his hands on my shoulders. “Right.”
My gaze climbs slowly to his face. His eyes dart between mine as he drops his hands and balls them into fists at his sides. My stomach slowly sinks at the loss of contact, but I don’t let myself analyze that reaction too closely.
Nate clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”
I narrow my eyes. “Good gracious. It’s like that first apology opened the floodgates.”
He chuckles and runs a hand down the back of his head.
My brows scrunch. “What did you say before I fell?”
He shrugs. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t using something that would damage the wood to hang the banner.”
I shoot him a glare and hold up my left arm where I’m wearing a roll of painter’s tape like a chunky bangle.
He nods and blows an uncomfortable chuckle. “Right. Sorry.”
I sigh and shake my head. “You were so worried about the wood frame, you nearly lost a window.”
He smirks and gestures to the unbroken pane of glass. “No harm, no foul.”
I turn to check that the chair survived the fall, only to find it in two pieces on the floor. Apparently, my fall separated the back from the seat. I wince. “Maybe a little harm.”
He frowns as he picks up the back of the chair. “Nah. I can fix it. Why were you using this chair? There’s a step stool in the closet under the stairs that’s much sturdier.”
I shrug. “I used what was given to me.”
He chuckles and shakes his head as he sets the back of the chair on top of the seat. He bends to lift the pieces, but pauses and straightens up with a glance into the foyer. “Oh, I asked Mom to count up the carbs in the cupcakes.”
My brows rise, and he raises a hand. “I didn’t tell her why or who it was for. She doesn’t know. But she said that one vanilla cupcake with the icing has about forty-four carbs.”
I blink and nod. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
He smirks and shrugs. “I didn’t want you to miss out on a birthday cupcake.”
I smile, excited to have one of Kathryn’s delicious cupcakes without worrying about my blood sugar. “Thank you.”
He smiles and lifts the chair pieces, his eyes roaming my face for a moment before he turns and carries the chair through the kitchen and out the back door in the mudroom.
I frown as I stare after him. My head is being very rational—he probably didn’t want anyone to ask why I wasn’t eating a cupcake because he knows I’m not telling people about my diabetes. But my heart flutters at the gesture.