Christmas In Snowflake Canyon by RaeAnne Thayne Page B

they should be okay for a few weeks, don’t you?”
    With her cheeks flushed from the cold and her nose an even brighter pink, she looked fresh and sweet and not at all like the snobby bitch he wanted to believe her. She was also as unreachable as the Christmas star on top of the sixty-foot spruce in front of City Hall.
    His stump ached suddenly from the cold and the exertion.
    “How should I know?” he snapped, suddenly pissed at the whole damn world. “Do I look like a freaking expert on Christmas decorating?”
    Her eyes went wide at his sudden attack, and her breath hitched in a little. He saw surprised hurt in her eyes for only an instant before she composed her lovely features into that cold, supercilious expression he was beginning to suspect she donned for self-protection.
    “Sorry,” she answered, her voice icicle-cool. “My mistake. Forget I asked your opinion.”
    She brushed past him on her way inside, stirring the air with the thick scent of pine mingled with the vanillaand-cinnamon scent that was hers alone.
    He probably should apologize for his bad temper, but he decided to let things ride. Better she think he was a bad-tempered bastard.
    “I’ll start opening the boxes in the next cabin over,” he said curtly.
    “Fine.”
    He might as well have been invisible for all the notice she paid him as she started arranging pine branches on the mantel.
    After a moment, he turned and stalked down the sidewalk to the cabin next door.
    He found the garland in the first box he opened. He should probably leave it for her to hang when she finished in the other cabin, but as he gazed down at the coil of intertwined thin ironwork stars of this one, he felt a ridiculous urge to atone somehow for hurting her feelings.
    He picked it up and started draping it around the little tree, trying his best to imitate the artful way he had seen her hang the garland in the first cabin. It was harder than it looked, though he wanted to think he had done a passable job.
    When she finally came in sometime later, her nose was a little pink, her eyes slightly swollen. She looked as if she had been fighting tears—or maybe even giving in to them—and his stomach felt hollow.
    “I know. It looks terrible,” he muttered.
Not only that, but hanging the garland by himself hadn’t been nearly as enjoyable as decorating the other tree had been with both of them working together.
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to.” He could either be miserable and short-tempered or he could try to get along with her. They still had four-and-a-half trees to go. It didn’t have to be complete torture.
    “I’m obviously not as gifted in this arena as you are,” he said gruffly.
    “Few people are,” she said, voice smart as she stepped forward to reposition one section of garland.
    She smelled delicious, he couldn’t help noticing again as she nudged him out of the way so she could move another loop of garland.
    He had to stop picking up those things, he told himself.
    She was the perfectly beautiful Genevieve Beaumont, pampered and adored princess.
    He was…not.
    “There. That should do it,” she said. “You had the basics down. Now it’s only a matter of finessing the details, see?”
    In her naturally husky voice, the benign words sounded vaguely sexual.
    “Yeah. I can see that,” he said. “That looks much better.”
    She offered a hesitant smile and his heart gave a hard little tug.
    Kissing her right now would be a really terrible idea. The worst. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? He shoved away from the wall. “Since you’re obviously better at this, why don’t you finish up here and
    I’ll go cut down some evergreens for this cabin and the others.”
    “Can you—” she began then stopped. Could he what? Clip the branches? It would probably be a little harder than it should be, especially with only a pair of scissors instead of pruning loppers, but he didn’t doubt he could handle it.
    “Yes,”