“And risk breaking everything before you can sell it?” Clark’s expression and stiff arms must have given him away. She adopted an air of false modesty. “Am I wrong? I thought you wanted to make money off of this once you dissolve the company.”

“It belongs to me.” He returned his hands to his pockets. The icicles would have to wait. He didn’t know the first thing about storing all of this holiday garbage, and no one would buy bits of shattered glass. “Why shouldn’t I sell it?”

“Of course you should.” A breeze of sarcasm blew behind her as she stepped down from the staircase and headed straight for the living room. He followed close behind, not wanting her to break or put her Jack Frost spell over anything else in this house. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Christmas is over. The icicles are here to stay. Besides, you respect a contract, right?”

“A contract?”

“In your uncle’s contract with the city, he stipulates that this home can be used as a muster point for all festival-related activities. I have every legal right to be here.”

Uncle Christopher…why would you do this to me?

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?”

“Let me put it to you this way: The festival was my home. It’s been my home every Christmas since I was seven years old. You took my home away, so I think it’s only fair I get to take yours.” The living room received no less treatment than the rest of the house, only it contained the pièce de résistance. The Christmas tree. Clark seemed to remember the ceilings in this house being fourteen feet high, which meant the undecorated fir was thirteen and a half feet tall. At least. The glistening angel almost brushed the ceiling. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair once the season’s over.”

Clark tightened his jaw to keep it from dropping to the floor. She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she meant, especially not with the nonchalant way she swanned around the room, adjusting the nutcrackers on the mantle as if she hadn’t just invited herself over for Christmas.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re stuck with me.”

The decorations, he could handle. He’d just sleep in his car the next two nights and wake up to the world returned to normal on Boxing Day. A strange woman with an affinity for decking the halls? He wouldn’t and couldn’t allow it.

“Oh, no. You’re not staying, too.”

“Of course I am. I bought us matching PJ’s and everything.”