Page 27 of Wilde Flame

I pulled my gaze away from Caden and looked down into soft, sky-blue eyes. “Yes. I would love to help you.”

She clapped once. “Wonderful! Caden, the next batch of cookies are almost done. You take those out, and I’ll show Lilibeth where the decorations are.”

Mrs. Harper turned and headed out of the kitchen, toward the stairs. As I walked by Caden, he purposely bumped into me.

I pushed him away, and he pushed me back.

“Grow up, will you!” I whisper-shouted.

Caden glared. “You pushed me!”

“That’s because you bumped into me on purpose!”

“I’m getting the cookies out of the oven and you walked right behind me. Where was I supposed to go?”

“How about to he—”

“Lilibeth! Are you coming?”

Caden grinned. “What were you just about to say, Flower Child?”

“Ugh!” I breathed, as I rolled my eyes and quickly caught up to Mrs. Harper.

Once we got to the second floor, she pointed to a door at the end of the hallway. “The decorations are in the attic.”

I’d been up in her attic before. It was heaven on Earth up there. So many old pieces of furniture and pictures. I could get lost for hours just looking at everything.

Once she showed me where all the decorations were, I started hauling the boxes down. According to Mrs. Harper, every bedroom would have a tree, along with two trees down in the living room, and one in the family room. She had decorations for every bathroom, the kitchen, the living and dining rooms, as well as the breakfast nook. Caden ended up having to help me bring everything out of the attic and put the boxes in their corresponding rooms, since there were so many. Apparently, Mrs. Harper’s daughter and son-in-law were usually here for Thanksgiving, and helped decorate afterward, but they couldn’t make it this year.

On the last trip up to the attic, I sat down on an old settee. I’d thought I was pretty fit, but all the multiple trips up and down the various flights of stairs told me I wasn’t in as good of shape as I could be.

“What’s wrong? Tired, Flower Child?”

I sat back. “I’m exhausted, and we still haven’t brought down the trees. She has a tree for every single bedroom! Plus, three downstairs.”

“Oh, she doesn’t have fake trees. She prefers real.”

My eyes widened. “Real trees?”

He chuckled. “Yep. I’ll leave here in a bit to go buy them.”

I tilted my head. “Do you do this every year for her?”

His cheeks flushed. “I do. Ever since Mr. Harper died. Lisa, Mrs. Harper’s daughter, tells me every year not to buy the trees, that they can buy them, but I enjoy it.”

I nodded. “It’s sweet of you to do this for her.”

He shrugged. “Don’t get too sappy about it, because with you showing up today, you’ve pretty much volunteered yourself to do it again next year.”

I chuckled. “I don’t mind at all. I adore Mrs. Harper, and it feels good to help out people in the community I’ve fallen in love with.”

Something moved across his face, but with the darkness of the attic, I couldn’t really read what it was.

“Did you do volunteer work where you grew up?” he asked, when the silence became awkward.

“Oh yeah. My mom and dad were big supporters of the community. I can remember being as young as eight and helping on Thanksgiving Day at the church in our neighborhood. My first-ever job there was putting a scoop of mashed potatoes onto the plates of the unhoused people who would come to eat.”

A soft smile played across his face. “It’s great that your parents taught you about volunteering at an early age. Mine did as well.”