I toss him my sauciest look. “I think it’s the kind of thing you need to see for yourself.”
“Should I be excited or scared?”
“Can’t it be both?”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re standing in front of Abby’s grandma’s open garage, staring at two seven-foot-tall nutcrackers. They’re painted like red and green soldiers, and I know from years of seeing them at the end of Cherie’s driveway each holiday season that they have lights in their buttons, along their swords, and in their hats.
“Thank you so much for offering these to us,” I say to Cherie. “They’ll make a great addition to the festival decorations.”
“I’m just glad you’re taking them off my hands now that Henry decided he doesn’t want to wrestle with them another season.” She laughs and waves a hand at the garage. “Help yourself. I’m going to nip back inside and warm up.”
“Thanks again.”
When she’s gone, Griffin leans closer. “What’s the plan for these?”
“I’m thinking they can guard the main entrance to the Christmas market.” It’ll be an extra step for set-up and tear-down every weekend, but a great touch for the overall look of the festival.
“I’m thinking they’re creepy.”
“What? No, they’re festive.” I draw out the word as though if I say it right, he’ll agree with me.
“They’re menacing.”
I stare at them for a minute. Their faces are painted like any nutcracker—huge black eyes, always-stylish handlebar mustaches, wide grins showing off big, square teeth. “Maybe they’re not exactly friendly, but they’renotcreepy.”
Griffin’s lips tug into the smallest smile. Probably because I agreed with him.
“You’re just messing with me.” I step over to the nearest one. It’s almost a foot taller than I am, and up close, it does feel kind of threatening. I blame the wobbling in my stomach on Griffin’s power of suggestion, not the innocent nutcrackers.
“I’ve never liked them.” He moves closer to me, putting the giant nutcracker between us. “Caleb convinced me the one my mom used to keep on the mantel came to life at night and spied on us in our beds. It had a fuzzy head and beard that made it look sort of wild. I’d wake up and find it staring at me from my nightstand.”
“Like an Elf on the Shelf? Nowthoseare creepy.” I always thanked my lucky stars my parents never introduced that particular tradition to our house.
“I was afraid of that thing for years before I realized it was all an excuse for Caleb to pull pranks on me.”
“Aw.” I reach up to pat the nutcracker’s cheek. “Is this guy making you nervous?”
“No. I don’t get nervous.” He holds eye contact with me, that smirk back on his mouth. This man and his swagger.
“All right, Mr. Cool as a Cucumber, let’s haul this guy to your truck.”
I brace myself to take the nutcracker’s weight as we lean it back in an awkward three-person dip, but the shift never comes. Griffin’s eyebrows tug together.
“I thought you said these things were heavy.” He tilts it all the way back and into his arms like a light-as-a-feather, stiff-as-a-board bride.
“Cherie told me they were.” Although, given her age, maybe I should have taken her description with a grain of salt.
He gives me a disappointed look and carts the nutcracker off to his truck, maneuvering it into the bed with ease. When he returns to me in the garage, he’s got a teasing scowl twisting his mouth.
“How much can I lift?”he grouses, his eyes bright. “These things weigh forty pounds, max.”
Apparently, the nutcrackers onlylooklike wood.
“Don’t blame me,” I say. “I have to be careful. My last handyman had a very delicate back.”
“Nothing about your new handyman is delicate.” He sweeps the second nutcracker into his arms, showing off.
“Be careful with it. You don’t want to knock it into something.” The garage is filled with all kinds of disused items, and it probably wouldn’t take much to punch a hole right through that deceptive plastic the nutcracker’s made out of.
