“Not a knock-knock joke, I hope.”

She looked upward. “Quit ruining my joke and play along.”

His lips twitched.

“Why was Santa’s little helper depressed?” she asked.

He waited.

“Because he had low elf esteem.” Trying to keep from bursting out in laughter, she thrust up her arms in victory.

He snorted. “And you called my jokes corny.”

“But you laughed,” she pointed out with a little sway of her head.

“That I did,” he agreed, a wry grin on his face.

Fifteen minutes later, the tree was done.

“Hit the lights.”

“How about I just turn them on?”

“You knew what I meant,” she mock-accused, enjoying how he kept teasing her. She knew why he was doing it, that he wanted to keep her smiling. He was doing a great job, so great she really did feel ridiculous that she’d hesitated on decorating the tree.

Grinning, Bodie pushed the on switch for the lights.

Sarah’s breath caught. “Wow. That is the most beautiful Christmas tree ever.”

“I bet you say that about every tree.”

“Only when it’s true.” She clasped her hands together, turned to him and smiled. “Oh, Bodie, thank you for helping me. With the stress and with the tree.”

His smile was real, reached his beautiful blue eyes, and put the tree to absolute shame.

“You’d have done the same for me.”

She had done the same for Bodie. Not that Sarah knew it.

She’d made and donated a quilt that had, for whatever reason, resonated deep within him, shrouding him in selfless goodness that had shut out the darkness and wrapped him within its healing powers.

What would Sarah say, think, if she knew he had her quilt?

Part of him didn’t think she’d mind, that she’d love the fact that her quilt meant so much to him.

Another part wondered if she’d consider him a crazy stalker with nothing better to do than track down a quilter and take on her home repairs.

Yeah, that didn’t make him sound crazy. Much.

Uncomfortable with his thoughts, he glanced around at the empty ornament boxes.

“I’m going to carry these to the attic.”

“I’ll help.”

There were only a few, but more than he could get in one trip, so arguing was futile.

Regardless, gathering up the empty boxes changed the subject and that was his main objective. His and Sarah’s conversation had too many personal undertones.

The single trip up the stairs didn’t bother his hip.

Once they got the boxes stored, he turned and found Sarah eyeing the cluttered corner of the attic. It appeared to be the odds and ends storage area, full of bits of furniture, trunks, boxes, and who knew what else beneath the stacks, drop cloths, and layers of dust.

“What’s all that stuff?”