“Are you ready for me to bring the tree inside?” If Ryan was still affected by the almost kiss, it didn’t show in his expression.
Fine. Two could play at that game. “Let’s finish clearing the space.”
Between the two of them, they shifted around living room furniture to make room in front of the big picture window, then hauled in the tree. Once the netting was cut and the branches sprang out, she directed him in making the minute adjustments necessary so that it stood straight and tall. He was a good sport through the process, lips curved in an indulgent smile. By the time she was happy with it, the buzzer was going off for the cookies.
“Ryan, can you sort the stuff in the foyer into indoor and outdoor piles, while I deal with the cookies?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Hannah headed for the kitchen, trailed by her octogenarian shadow.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the boy was flirting,” Percy observed.
“Is that an unusual state of affairs?” She pulled the cookies from the oven and began transferring them to the cooling rack she’d found earlier.
“Not his default setting. Always has his mind on the mission. That’s his Delta Force training.”
She bobbled a cookie. “Delta Force? He’s special forces?”
“Didn’t mention that, huh?”
“No.” Now his reticence at dinner last night made more sense. He was a certified badass.
“He won’t brag on himself, so I’ll brag for him. He’s a special forces medical sergeant and a damned good one.”
“Mmhmm, I’m so good you won’t let me examine you.” Ryan’s expression was clearly dialed to not amused as he joined them.
“I got all my limbs still attached and no shrapnel sticking out of me. I’m not in need of your services,” Percy insisted.
Hannah caught the faint tightening in Ryan’s jaw. She wanted to touch him, to soothe that stress away and make him forget about Percy’s careless words.
“These cookies need a few minutes to cool,” she said. “Percy, weren’t you in charge of music?”
“Reckon I was. I apologize.” He snatched a cookie from the rack and tossed it from hand to hand to cool as he walked out of the room.
Because she wasn’t a woman who tended to ignore the urges of her heart, she crossed to Ryan and laid a hand on his arm. The muscles were corded with tension. His dark eyes fixed on hers. She didn’t say anything—didn’t know what to say—just ran her hand down his arm until her fingers could link with his. An offering of comfort. After a moment, his hand closed around hers, strong and warm.
Jazz piano spilled out from the living room. Ryan canted his head to the side as if trying to identify the song. Hannah recognized it instantly.
“A Charlie Brown Christmas. The Vince Guaraldi Trio.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “You know, like, every Christmas song ever made, don’t you?”
“Maybe not every one, but a lot. And come on, this is a classic Christmas soundtrack. Didn’t you watch A Charlie Brown Christmas as a kid?”
“We were much more into A Christmas Story.”
“That is only the worst Christmas movie ever made.”
The other side of his mouth curved. “It’s a classic. I mean, obviously—they have an all day marathon of it every year.”
“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” She called it a win when his eyes lost that haunted edge.
“Friends,” he murmured. “Is that what we’re doing?”
Fresh tension snapped between them, stealing her breath. How could he turn the mood so fast?
“You two comin’?” Percy shouted.