The Complete Christmas Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
stairs.
Every time they clamored up the stairs and down the hall with another piece of something large, he’d dart to the door of his new bedroom to watch them go by.
Pax joked with him, noticeably at ease with small children. Erik, preoccupied, said even less to him than when he’d been around him before. He’d given him a half smile on their first pass, which had put a shy grin on Tyler’s face, then barely glanced at him at all.
Because her little boy continued to wait in his doorway for “the man with the boat,” it soon became painfully apparent that Tyler was hoping Erik would acknowledge him again—which had her feeling even more protective than usual when he asked if he could help him.
“I don’t think so, sweetie. They’re in a hurry,” she explained, brushing his sandy hair back from his forehead. “When people get in a hurry, accidents can happen.”
“If I be careful can I help?”
Erik heard the tiny plea drift down the hallway. Focused on getting Rory’s possessions out of the way of the inventory, he’d paid scant attention to the child other than to make sure he wasn’t where he could get something dropped on him.
But now they needed tools. Deciding to save himself a trip and do something about the dejection he’d heard in that small voice, he called, “Hey, Tyler. Can you do something for me?”
A nanosecond later, little footsteps, muffled by carpeting, pounded down the hall.
Tyler appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom, shoving his hair back from the expectation dancing in his eyes. Rory was right behind him, unmasked concern in hers.
Erik crouched in his cargos, his forearms on his thighs, hands dangling between his knees. Behind him, Pax continued squaring the bed frame to the headboard.
Rory’s glance fixed on his as she caught her son by his shoulders. “What do you need?”
Whatever it was, she seemed prepared to do it herself. She had mother hen written all over her pretty face.
“Let him do it. Okay?”
The little boy tipped his head backward to look up at his mom. “Okay?” he echoed. “Please?”
For a moment, she said nothing. She simply looked as if she wasn’t at all sure she trusted him with whatever it was he had in mind, before caving in with a cautious okay of her own.
It didn’t surprise him at all that, physically, she hadn’t budged an inch.
“There’s a red metal box at the bottom of the stairs,” he said to the boy. “It has socket wrenches in it. It’s kind of heavy,” he warned. “Do you think you can bring it up?”
With a quick nod, Tyler turned with a grin.
“No running with tools!” Rory called as he disappeared out the door.
“’Kay!” the boy called back, and dutifully slowed his steps.
Caught totally off guard by what Erik had done, Rory looked back to the big man crouched by her bed frame. He was already back to work, he and his partner slipping the frame parts into place and talking about how much longer it would take them to finish.
Not wanting to be in their way herself, she backed into the hall, waiting there while Tyler, lugging the case with both hands, grinning the whole while, made his delivery.
When he walked back out of the room moments later, his expression hadn’t changed. She couldn’t remember the last time her little boy had looked so pleased. Or so proud.
“Erik said I did good.”
She knew. She’d heard him.
“Can I show him my boat?”
“Maybe some other time. He’s really busy right now,” she explained, then added that she really needed his help finishing his room.
Helping his mom wasn’t nearly the thrill of helping the guys. Especially when Erik called for him again ten minutes later, this time to carry down the tools he’d had him bring up.
From where she stood on a chair adjusting the ties on a primordial-forest curtain valance, she watched Tyler walk by his bedroom door with both hands again gripping the handle of the red metal box. Right behind him came Erik, telling him he’d take the box when they got to the stairs so he wouldn’t lose his balance with it.
Right behind Erik, Pax paused and poked his head into the room.
“I’ve got to run, Rory. No need to stop what you’re doing,” he called, because she’d done just that. “We have a client’s Christmas party tonight or I’d stick around and help. Erik’s going to finish up.”
She’d forgotten they had plans. Groaning at the lapse, she left the last tie undone and headed for the door.
Erik had disappeared into the store. Tyler, now empty-handed, stood in the entryway as Pax passed him, ruffling his hair on the way.
“What can I do to repay you?” she called.
“Do you bake?”
“What’s your favorite cookie?”
“Any kind that goes with coffee.” Grinning, he disappeared, too.
Erik eyed his buddy as Pax walked into the store. “If she has any spare time,” he insisted, setting the toolbox on the counter, “she’ll need to spend it out here.”
“Hey,” his shameless partner said with a shrug, “if she wants to bake me something, it’d be rude to refuse. So how much longer will you be?”
Erik flatly rejected the odd sensation that hit out of nowhere. It almost felt like protectiveness. But just whom he felt protective of, he had no idea. The woman wasn’t Pax’s type at all. “Half an hour at the most.”
“You taking a date tonight?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, the word oddly tight. “What about you?”
“I’m leaving my options open. I’ll cover for you if you need more time,” he added, his smile good-natured as he headed out the store’s front door.
Erik wished he’d left his options open, too. Though all he said to his partner was that he’d catch up with him at the party and turned back to what was left of his task.
The aisles were finally clear. The inventory visible. Except for the large armoire they’d moved to the empty space near the front door and the boxes and bins Rory had said she didn’t need just yet, mostly those marked Christmas, nothing else needed to be carried in. Except for her monster of a dining table, which they’d put in place, he and Pax had carried the rest of the furniture in and left it all wherever it had landed in the living room.
His briefcase still lay on the checkout counter’s marred surface, its contents untouched.
Burying his frustration with that, he glanced up to see her watching him uneasily from the inner doorway. More comfortable dealing with logistics than whatever had her looking so cautious, he figured the furniture in the living room could be pushed or shoved into place. It didn’t feel right leaving her to do it alone. It wasn’t as if she’d call a neighbor for help with the heavier pieces. She didn’t even know them. And she’d seemed inexplicably reluctant to call in a friend.
“Where do you want the sofa? Facing the window?” That was where his grandparents had always had theirs.
Rory wanted it to face the fireplace. She just wasn’t about to impose on him any more than she already had.
“I’ll take care of it,” she insisted, because he had that purposeful set to his jaw that said he was about to get his own way. Again.
“What about the big cabinet?”
“It’s fine where it is. For now,” she conceded, not about to tell him she wanted it moved across the room to the