“Once I’d calmed down I thought about how much work you’d done and how much Carly loved your decorations. She’s the head of the beautification program for Oakwood Gardens.”
She was too much. She didn’t care about the work he’d done. “So now you’re in with the bigwigs and all is fine?”
“Not the bigwigs, just the Association. They’re always on me to decorate with the rest of the neighborhood. You saved me the trouble.”
“Glad I can be of service.”
She blinked. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Darcy rubbed her forehead. “Look, you’re brilliant.”
Ben laughed. He didn’t need his rather lovely landlady to stroke his ego. “It’s okay, I get it. Since you hate Christmas, it’s a tough sell.”
“Hating Christmas is a major understatement, but it’s for a good reason.”
Ben quirked his brow. “There’s no good reason to hate Christmas.”
“I work retail—at a department store.”
Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, you might have a reason to dislike it, but hate it? C’mon. With all those happy kids and the—”
“The miserable mothers with children they’ve dragged to every store since they opened? Or would I love the kids that that are let loose in the store like it’s their own personal playground? Or better yet, that parents think the toy department is a daycare and can just let the kids play there unsupervised while they shop?”
“Okay,” he held up his hand, “I get it.” He had a feeling there was still more to it.
“And that brings me back to why I’m here. A holiday hiccup that is making my boss twitchy has landed in my lap and I’m wondering if you could help me.”
“Oh yeah, the deal is sweet as hell from where I’m standing, darlin’. You deign to let me keep up my ornaments and now you want a favor?”
Darcy’s chin dropped to her chest. A hank of lemon-blonde hair fell out of her messy twist. Texture was his downfall and between the fluffy soft sweater and her finger-grip-worthy hair, he should jam his hands under his thighs before he did something stupid.
She made a huffing sigh sound. “I’m not doing this right.”
Ben stood up. The urge to brush her hair back and tell her everything was going to be all right made him itchy. “What’s the problem?” He hated to see anyone miserable. That was all. But then again, she hated Christmas. And that just wasn’t natural.
She peered up at him through heavy bangs. “I need your talents at the store. Can you do what you did to the front of my house on a fifteen-foot spruce?”
He rubbed at his biceps. “Wait, did I just hear you right? You want me to come to your store and—”
“Make Christmas explode all over my front end. Money isn’t an object.” Her words came out in a rush.
Ben grinned. The absolute misery on her face was epic. “And I get full creative control?”
She nibbled at her lip again and Ben wanted to brush his thumb over the full, raspberry-colored flesh. And that wasn’t going to happen. She’d probably bite his finger off.
Darcy lifted her chin. “Within reason.”
He had a feeling within reason meant micromanaging him into a safe little display like every other store. “Sorry, darlin’. I’m not interested.”
She stood quickly. “Okay, wait. You can have as much creative control as I can get out of my boss. How’s that?”
He drummed his fingers on his arm. Her eyes drifte
d to his chest, then his arm and back up to his face. He tucked his hands under his arms. And again, her eyes strayed to his sleeve of ink. Maybe the good little girl next door liked tattoos. “I only have today.”
“That’s perfect, because I need it done today.”
Maybe it was her earnest eyes that were just a little wild, or maybe it was the fact that she’d swallowed her pride to come and ask him to help her, or maybe he was just insane. He heard himself say, “All right. Turn your pretty butt around and go back to work. I have to go shopping.”
Her mouth hung open. “Pretty butt?”