TAKE THE SHOT

EDEN

“Is this enough orange-cranberry bread for twenty people?” I asked.

Booker glanced over the four golden-brown loaves already cooled and wrapped in cellophane on our kitchen island. “If you think you need to bake another batch, I respectfully disagree.”

My parents were hosting Christmas for the whole extended family this afternoon, and I’d offered to bring my favorite recipe. As soon as Booker and I finished exchanging our gifts this morning, I’d started baking. I just couldn’t be sure it would be enough.

“Harper said her new friend might stop by.”

“I don’t know her, but I doubt she’ll eat a whole loaf by herself.”

The breads were pretty rich.

“Or Jed could wind up bringing a date.”

A low chuckle rumbled through Booker’s chest. “That’s wishful thinking on your part.”

I frowned even though, yes, I secretly hoped my bachelor cousin would one day find the right woman for him. “Anyone could bring extra guests, is what I’m saying.”

He stepped closer to run a hand along my arm. “Even if they do, you’re good on bread.”

I bit my lip, examining the loaves as though I could tap into some unknown ESP and see how the holiday party would go. “We don’t have to leave for another hour or two. I can make one more—”

Booker moved into my space, one hand going to my waist to stop me before I could whip out the mixer again. “Babe. It’s plenty.”

“It’s better to have too much than have people go hungry.”

He laughed. “Eden, not a single soul is ever going to go hungry at your mother’s house.”

Some of my tension faded in the face of his never-ending optimism. He wasn’t wrong, I was just nervous. Extremely nervous. “I just want everything to be perfect tonight.”

His brown eyes practically glowed with affection. “I know. Come here.”

He moved closer and gently scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing. No matter how many times he did it, I always marveled that he could so totally sweep me off my feet.

In every possible way.

“Careful.” I patted his chest in warning.

“I know.” He held me close as he carried me into the living room. “I’ve got extra precious cargo here.”

I was currently three months and sixteen days pregnant. I had a treasure trove of baby books on my nightstand, a color-coded calendar marking my upcoming prenatal appointments, and an app that gave me weekly “bean updates.” Little one was the size of a lemon and supposedly moving around in there, but I hadn’t felt anything yet.

I couldn’t wait to feel the baby kick. I needed something to prove it was all real. Beyond the morning sickness, anyway.

Booker settled me in his lap on the couch, his hand automatically cradling my belly. I wasn’t really showing yet, but we could tell the difference. Even if my obstetrician had so kindly pointed out last time that most of my “belly” was just bloat.

Thanks for that, Dr. Acosta.

“It’s going to go great tonight.” He cuddled me to his chest, practically purring in my ear. “Everyone’s going to be thrilled for us, no matter how much cranberry-orange bread you bring.”

“I know, but it’s a big deal. All the family is going to be there, plus friends, and I just…”

I didn’t usually stress quite this much over baking, but it wasn’t just the treats I’d volunteered to bring that was worrying me.

“Eden.” He smoothed a hand along my hairline until he cupped the back of my neck. Somehow, just looking into his eyes grounded me. “I know you want everything to go just right. It’s one of the things I love about you. But I don’t see a single way it could go wrong. What better Christmas gift could we give our parents than to tell them about our baby?”

I relaxed against him, leaning my head on his shoulder. “You’re right. I’m stressing over nothing.”

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “I wouldn’t say it’s nothing. First grandchild is going to be a big deal in this family.”

I exhaled a groan. “One more round of stress-baking will fix me.”

He squeezed me a touch tighter. “How about a round of stress-staring at our Christmas tree? And a round of stress-eating the sugar cookies we made last night? Maybe even some stress-canoodling?”

I snort-laughed. His sister, Chloe, had taken to calling us out on our PDA with a handful of old-timey terms for it. She’d accused us of canoodling a few weeks ago, and before that, it was necking.

She was right on both counts, FYI.

“Throw in some stress-sighing over the card catalog you found for me and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

I still couldn’t believe the wonderful man drove up to Waco to get the three-by-three vintage unit with thirty drawers. It’d been lovingly restored and probably cost him extra because of it, but it was absolutely perfect. I had no idea where I would put it, or exactly what I would store in it, but this librarian’s heart was happy just to own it.

Booker pulled a plush snowflake throw blanket over us, one of many he liked to tease me about. What could I say, I liked being cozy. I liked being cozy with him best of all. We shifted enough to see our Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. We’d spent a lot of evenings over the last month doing exactly this, but I was perfectly fine indulging again.

“Wait.” He leaned over to grab his phone off the end table. “I can do us one better.”

In another minute, Michael Bublé started crooning about candy canes and silver lanes aglow. I wrapped my arms around Booker’s and snuggled deeper into him, all the tense places in my heart and mind easing as we breathed in time.

“I like this tree,” he said.

I nodded against him. As the first married children from both our families, we’d been gifted a lot of ornaments from our childhoods by our parents. Our tree danced with brightly colored baubles mixed with handmade salt dough ornaments and vintage Star Trek characters. Strands of wooden beads and mini books I’d made when I was in high school. It had absolutely no theme, but I loved it.

“Next year, we’ll get to add a ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornament,” he said softly.

Tears sprang right into my eyes, but they were always on deck lately. Pregnancy hormones struck again.

Booker kissed my face, and I felt the wetness of his tears against my cheek. Now we’d both become criers. I loved that, too. I loved everything about us.

“We’re going to walk in bawling over our Christmas tree, and everyone will know what’s up before we have a chance to tell them,” I said with a sniff.

“Babe, our moms already know. If my mother gives me any more significant looks when she talks about the future, her eyes are going to fall out of her head.”

I laughed, but he was right. I suspected my mom knew, too, but she’d been good at keeping her mouth closed about it. I’d already told my sisters and June last month. We’d told Chloe, too.

I probably didn’t need to get this worked up about an announcement everyone already knew. “Do you think anyone who’ll be there hasn’t already guessed?”

Booker stroked one palm down my arm. “Jed has no clue.”

“Poor Jed.” I laughed again, and swiped away my tears. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I turned to face him better. “For keeping me focused on the here and now instead of scenarios in my head.”

Booker was excellent at helping me set aside my perfectionistic tendencies so I could just enjoy the moment. It was a lesson I needed to practice every day, but he’d never yet tired of encouraging me. The man was an endless source of magical moments to enjoy, himself.

“I love the here and now.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my mouth. “And I love everything that’s coming in the future.”

I couldn’t help it—I cried a little more.

“Thank you for being mine,” I whispered.

“That’s my gift every day,” he whispered back.

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

“Merry Christmas, Eden.”

###

SAY THE WORDS

TY

I’d always been a morning guy. It worked well in my life as a rancher, but I’d been this way long before the ranch. I liked it when everything was quiet, and the horses and I were the only ones awake. Especially liked mornings in the winter, when I could check on the animals and get them fed before the sun rose.

To June’s mind, this earned me a spot in a circus side-show.

She preferred late nights and late mornings. I gave her that freedom as often as I could.  Possibly because I loved the sight of her asleep and totally at ease in our bed. With any luck, she’d still be there when I got back inside, and I could join her. Celebrate Christmas Day together, all day long.

I closed up the barn and dusted off my work gloves as I headed for the house. Lights guided me through the darkness, and I couldn’t help the smile on my face when I rounded the corner. Our place looked like an old-time Christmas card. Showing incredible restraint, June had waited to begin the holiday decorating until the day after Thanksgiving. Pretty sure she’d added something new every day since.

We’d strung white lights along the farmhouse’s porch railing first. When I saw how much she loved the effect, I got out a big ladder and strung up lights all along the eaves, too. Next, I’d outlined the shape of the barn under her guidance. I’d decorated for the holidays exactly zero times before, but now, I would have strung lights over every structure on my property. What could I say? The glittery show delighted her—and her joy delighted me.

I scraped my boots before I let myself inside the warm house. Still dark in here, and quiet. I flipped the switch to light up our Christmas tree, the centerpiece of the living room. The sight made my heart glow. June had made my house a home. Her being in it at all was a dream come to life—the beauty she added to it was icing on the cake.

I pulled off my coat and slipped off my boots, hoping to get upstairs before she woke, but I’d missed my opportunity. She walked downstairs in her sleep-rumpled state, brushing her fingers through her long, dark hair. Stopping on the bottom step, she grinned up at me.

“Merry Christmas, husband.”

Could you become addicted to a word? The flames in my chest kicked up high every time she called me that.

I stepped closer and slipped my hands along her waist, over her snowflake-covered shorty pajama set. “Merry Christmas, wife.”

She smiled brighter, seemingly loving her nickname as much as I loved mine. She leaned up to kiss me but as soon as her lips made contact, she pulled back again. “Goodness, you’re cold!”

“Then warm me up.” I held her tighter and traced my nose along her neck until she squealed. Her arms snaked around my shoulders, though, so she couldn’t have minded the chill too much. I switched to my mouth, running kisses along her skin until I pressed one behind her ear.

“Mmm, best Christmas ever.”

“We’re just getting started.” I hitched her up into my arms, and she wrapped her legs around me as I stalked us into the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Our faces were inches apart, but she still managed to side-eye me. “That’s what’s on your mind? Breakfast?”

I set her on the kitchen counter. “Sure. Gotta keep our energy up.”

She laughed, but I wasn’t joking. She’d taken the week between Christmas and New Year’s off, and although I always had responsibilities around the ranch, I intended to make the very most of her vacation time. Starting with feeding her. Then…well, we’d just see where the day led.

“What’ll it be?” I asked. “Waffles with cream? Eggs and toast? Some of that sausage Jed brought by?”

“I can’t believe he made sausage from scratch.”

I pulled the plastic container from the fridge. “It is our Christmas gift. The least we can do is try it.”

“Uh, he said the real gift was being related to him, so.” She splayed a hand. “We technically don’t have to eat it.”

I took the lid off the container and shook the fat sausages around in the bin. “Smells good.”

Reminded me of the ones my grandma used to make ages ago, not that I would risk complimenting her brother that much. He’d never let me forget it.

June leaned in to smell them but reared back, covering her mouth. “Oh, no. Those aren’t good.”

“Really?” I took another tentative sniff. “Seem all right to me.”

“Something’s off.” Her face had gone pale, and she pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

We locked eyes. It was all I could do to keep my hold on the container of questionable meat. “Do you think…?”

June’s gaze softened, and a small smile peeked out. She still looked like she’d smelled something rancid…but somehow managed to look hopeful, too. “I’m three days late.”

Now I might throw up.

I put the container on the counter and rested my hands on either side of her hips. We hadn’t exactly been trying for a baby…but we weren’t doing anything to stop one, either. We’d agreed we wanted one—more than one, if we were lucky—but right now, in this moment, I couldn’t say what I felt most about the prospect.

Shock. Excitement. A sickening fear I’d get everything wrong. A bizarre, overpowering urge to swaddle June in bubble wrap and keep her safe for the next nine months. Maybe forever.

“Do you, uh…” I swallowed, unable to string words together to save my life. “You have tests, right?”

“Yup. Let’s go answer the age-old question: did Jed make tainted sausages or is June just pregnant?”

I exhaled a laugh, but it would never be just anything for her to be pregnant with our baby. She moved to hop off the counter, but I took her by the waist and set her feet back on the floor gently. New thoughts sprang to life in my head: could she keep riding horses? I doubted it. Too risky if she fell. She’d definitely stop helping me out in the stalls. She didn’t need to do that in the first place, and this would be the perfect opportunity to put my foot down about it.

As much as June teased me about liking to be in control, I rarely put my foot down with her. She had the reins, and that’s how I wanted it.

She grabbed my hand, and I followed her through the house and up the stairs, my mind swimming with nothing and everything at once.

With a last glance at me I couldn’t quite read, she shut herself in the upstairs bathroom. I looked around, trying to picture this old house full of kids. We only had two extra rooms up here. Would that be enough? Kids could double up in the bedrooms if they needed to, couldn’t they?

June came back out, that same cautious look on her face. “We have to wait three minutes.”

“Okay.”

She slipped right up to me and ran her fingers through my hair. “Are you okay with this? You seem like maybe you’re freaking out.”

“I don’t freak out.”

For some reason, that made her smile. “You’re not afraid to see two little lines?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Two lines means pregnant.”

Oh. I pulled her closer.

“I was thinking we could add more rooms up here,” I admitted.

“If I’m having triplets, more rooms are the least of your worries.”

I had to smile at her teasing. “I meant later on. I figured they’d come one by one.”

I leaned against the stair rail, hoping the simple concept of babies coming wouldn’t make my knees buckle.

“I love that it’s even on your mind,” she said. “You want more than two kids?”

“I want as many as we get.”

“I’ll ask you again when we get to five.”

I swallowed hard…but didn’t mind the idea. A bunch of kids who were a little bit of me and a whole lot of June? Running around on the ranch and filling this house to the brim? Nothing sounded more right.

“There might not be any yet, you know.” She ran her hands over my shoulders, but I could feel the tremble in them. She wanted this, badly.

Honestly, so did I. Feared it a little, sure. But wanted it? Without question.

“I’ll be happy however things go, June. If it’s not this time, you know I don’t mind trying some more.”

She laughed, shaking her head at me. “I won’t forget your noble sacrifice.”

“Nothing about that sacrifice is very noble.” I ran my hands along her back, but checked my watch over her shoulder. “That’s three minutes.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. We’re good no matter what.”

Not quite a question, but she needed the confirmation anyway.

“One hundred percent.”

She nodded and took a step into the bathroom. When she turned back around, she already had tears in her eyes. Her smile hit me like an arrow to my heart. “We’re pregnant.”

“Sweetheart.” The word gusted out of me as I fell to my knees. I pulled her close, pressing my cheek against her flat stomach. We were going to have a baby. I was going to be a father.

My heart did a convoluted thing in my chest, both swelling and constricting as joy and anticipation crashed through me.

I tilted my head so I could see her grinning down at me despite the tears tracking her cheeks. “You are everything I ever wanted, June. It doesn’t seem real that I could have more.”

“More is coming.” She slipped down into my lap. “I love you, Ty.”

“I love you, too.” I kissed her softly, gently, needing her to know she held my heart in her hands. Needing her to know I would always be here to take care of her, protect her, provide. Mostly, just needing her to know I loved her, come what may. “You were right. Best Christmas ever.”

“Just imagine next year’s.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t swallow. I pictured us with our first tiny baby. More babies. The laughter and tears that would fill this house. The noise and the happiness and the chaos. The unending love. I wanted every single minute of it.

I wanted everything June would give me, and I vowed just like I did every day that I would give her everything right back.

“I feel like I didn’t get you nearly enough for Christmas now,” I said.

She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me. Starting by not cooking Jed’s sausages in the house.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

###

HAVE A HEART

DEAN

Two years ago, if you’d told me that one day I would be preparing Christmas breakfast for my wife while wearing matching sleigh-printed pajamas as Kelly Clarkson’s holiday songs blasted through my house, I would have said you were crazy.

If you’d told me the wife would be Eliza Webb, I would have put the straight jacket on you myself.

But here I stood, whipping up brioche French toast in the most festive outfit I’d ever owned. Picked out and eagerly presented to me by my sweet wife, now known as Eliza Irwin.

Life was funny sometimes. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mmm.” Eliza hummed as she snuck up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. She laid her cheek against my biceps to peek at the breakfast progress. “That smells so good.”

“They’ll be ready in another minute.”

“I love having a personal chef.” Her bright blue eyes beamed up at me. “Especially one who’s so hot.”

Her hands wandered over my chest, and I chuckled. She might love having me cook for her, but I think she enjoyed distracting me even more.

“Keep it up, and I’ll burn your breakfast,” I warned.

Her fingers lightly dug into my sides. “Ooh, is that a euphemism?”

I laughed outright. This woman possessed a never ending supply of sass.

I loved it.

“Just a fact. Do you mind getting plates?”

“On it.”

She moved over to the cupboards, her colorful twin braids swinging along her shoulder blades. She’d dyed half the ends of her blonde hair red, the other half green. It shouldn’t have worked, but Eliza made everything look good.

She brought back two stoneware plates ringed with stylized pine trees. I served the fluffy French toast, and we took our breakfast to the dining table where I’d already laid out a bowl of sliced strawberries, a dish of freshly whipped cream, and a tiny shaker of powdered sugar.

She scooted right up next to me on the padded bench. “You always think of everything.”

“I like spoiling you.” Making Eliza smile was worth any effort. She beamed up at me, the fireworks in my chest proving my point.

“You’re just trying to stay on my Nice List.”

“Was my spot ever in danger?”

She pretended to think about it as she took a big bite of berry-covered French toast. Making me wait, of course. And looking way too delectable herself as she enjoyed her meal.

“I think you’ve still got top billing there,” she finally said.

I leaned closer. “And what about your Naughty List?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Always number one.”

I pressed a quick kiss to her soft mouth. “One and only.”

She took another bite and chewed like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. “Maybe Irwin’s should expand and open a brunch place. Don’t tell my mom, but you’re the best cook I know.”

“You didn’t like the quiche I made.”

She crinkled her nose. “That’s different. I’m convinced you made up that recipe just to pretend you have some flaws.”

“I assure you, quiche is real.”

“I remain delightfully skeptical.”

I hummed agreement and ate a few bites of the French toast that honestly tasted a lot better than that quiche I’d experimented with a few weeks ago. “My parents wish us a merry Christmas.”

She tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowing. “They called already? How did I miss that?”

I lifted a shoulder, knowing she wouldn’t like this. “They texted.”

“Well.” She clamped her mouth shut for a full ten seconds. “I hope they’re having a good time in Vermont.”

I knew she meant it sincerely, but she hadn’t been able to fully mask her surprise when they announced last month that they’d booked a cabin out of state for the holidays. Given her family’s abundance of togetherness, she just couldn’t grasp my parents and their more…hands-off approach with their children.

She shook off her disappointment. “Maybe we should try to have a snowy Christmas some year, too. Harper and Sam are doing it.”

Eliza’s middle sister and her husband had whisked off to Colorado for the week.

“Would you like that?”

“Well…” She paused to pop a cream-covered berry into her mouth. “Maybe not for Christmas Day. I like being with everybody for the holidays. It’s chaos, but it’s good chaos.”

Last year’s Christmas festivities with her family had been eye-opening. Normally, I’d spend an hour or two with my parents and brothers and then spend the rest of the day at my apartment, reading or watching A Christmas Story on a loop. But with the Webbs, holidays were all-day affairs where everybody was welcome and nobody wanted to leave. Last year, they had over twenty guests, and this time there were sure to be even more, despite Eliza’s middle sister and her husband’s absence. They’d invited both my brothers and our grandma, and I couldn’t be sure who else.

“Maybe sometime I’ll take you to see snow between Christmas and New Year’s.”

Her eyes narrowed on me. “Do you already have plans on your calendar?”

“I might.” When Sam told me about the place he’d booked, I started researching ideas for our own romantic winter getaway.

“So sweet. But just so you know, if you book a place that has an outhouse, I will not be a happy camper.”

Sam had a different definition of romantic getaway than I did.

“Indoor plumbing was one of my search criteria.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

As soon as we finished our breakfast and loaded the dishwasher, Eliza grabbed my hand. “Do you have room on your calendar for some Christmas cuddling?”

“El, being with you is the only thing I want on my calendar.”

“Aww.” She squeezed me around the middle, gazing up at me with stars in her eyes. “You’re getting kissed so hard for that.”

She pulled me from the kitchen into the living room, where she encouraged me to sit on the couch. Then she snuggled up next to me, drawing my arm around her shoulder as though a world existed where I might not do it myself.

“This is pretty perfect,” she said with a sigh.

She’d filled my grandmother’s house—the most special place from my childhood and now our home—with as much Christmas cheer as she could pack in. We had a tree covered in pink and green baubles, a felt wreath over the fireplace, and a collection of bristle brush trees on the mantel. Everything colorful and bold, just like my wife.

We’d brought Gran over to give her stamp of approval, but with the way she doted on Eliza, that was always a given.

“Are you ready for your present now?” she asked.

“No? I thought you said no gifts.”

She gasped. “You lie.”

I chuckled at her vehemence, but she was right.

We’d agreed on one present each, plus stockings filled with little things like tiny hippo cable clips to keep my desk organized and a six pack of El’s favorite lip balm. I wasn’t the biggest fan of her “one present” scheme—I had a long list of gift ideas on my phone I would have loved to lavish on her. She was still a little skittish about “taking advantage” of my money, though. An impossibility if ever there was one, but I wouldn’t push it this year.

Next year, all bets would be off.

She hopped up to grab a package from beneath the tree, and placed it in my lap. For some reason, she looked a little nervous about it, which ticked up my pulse. All sorts of possibilities flipped through my head, but not a single one of them seemed right.

I tore off the snowman wrapping paper and lifted the lid on the box. A handmade mug sat inside, its cobalt blue glaze dotted with teal and turquoise streaks. I’d admired it weeks ago when Eliza and I visited one of the shops where she sold her soaps. I pulled it out, and found a crisp paper tucked inside the mug.

Unfolding it, I discovered a gift certificate for a pottery class taught by the artist himself.

“You really liked all those mugs and plates at Marilyn’s,” Eliza said, her hands clasped in her lap. “I thought maybe you’d want to learn how to make your own. You seem to like working with your hands. Like…your hands take over and your brain can relax.”

My heart squeezed. She knew me so well. I never would have thought to sign up for a class like that, but she’d seen exactly what I’d needed. With Eliza, all my secret hopes had come true—she saw my truest self and only wanted more.

I put a hand at the back of her head and pulled her closer until my mouth met hers. I kissed her long and slow, a silent thanks for loving me. Seeing me. Wanting me.

When I finally broke the kiss, her mouth pulled into a wide grin. “So you like it?”

“I love it, El. It’s perfect.”

“You can take it to the office and think of me when you’re hard at work on your spreadsheets.”

I chuckled as I set the rustic mug on the coffee table. “I always think of you when I work on my spreadsheets.”

Kneeling on the floor, it took me a minute to find the small gift I’d set beneath it for her. We’d wrapped gifts for all our siblings, Gran and El’s parents, and friends. Her baby niece, Bee, had the most presents, but we’d had too much fun picking out baby toys to keep to our minimum.

Yet another thing she was still a little skittish about that I couldn’t wait for.

Finally, I found the box and returned to her on the couch. “For you.”

The small size made her instantly suspicious. “A keychain, I hope?”

“You’ll find out.”

“Not ominous at all.”

She took off the outer wrapping, revealing the small velvet box beneath. Her gaze hit mine, somewhere between a warning and uncertainty. When she opened it, she gasped.

As I’d hoped all along.

“This is…” She went on staring at the necklace with the heart-shaped gem.

“It’s a pink sapphire.”

“No!” The word came out in a rush of shock. Maybe a bit of reprimand. “Really?”

“The color reminded me of your hair when we first got together. The heart is because you always have mine.”

“Dean,” she said softly.

I touched her side, where her heart-shaped tattoo lay hidden. “And a reminder that I’ll always protect yours.”

“You are just… You’re the most…”

I took the necklace from her, pleased I’d rendered her speechless. Careful of her hair, I fastened it around her neck. It suited her exactly.

“I love you an embarrassing amount,” she said.

“I love you right back.”

“You’re the best present I ever got. You know that, right?”

The sincerity in her eyes sank into my heart, making it expand several sizes like the Grinch’s when he had his Christmas realization. Except mine was no singular epiphany—this overflowing love had become an everyday experience with her.

“You’re mine, too, El.”

Her eyes lit with mischief. “Do you want to burn my breakfast?”

I pulled her close. “Yes, please.”

###

STAY THIS CHRISTMAS

HARPER

This vacation had seen more firsts for me than any other in my life. First snow day, first dip in a hot spring, first time skiing a bunny hill. Also, first time experiencing altitude sickness, which made our initial couple of days here less exciting. And now, my first white Christmas.

“I hope it snows all day.” I couldn’t get over the beautiful sights. We’d set out on a short walk around the cabin Sam found for us just outside of Durango, Colorado. The trail had been packed down and was an easy enough walk, but anything off the trail lay covered in almost two feet of snow. Plus, the little house sat at the base of pine-covered mountains, far enough away from town to give us the most spectacular stargazing opportunities at night.

Today, snow had started falling again, and I loved watching the fat flakes blow through the air.

“Forecast says it will.” Sam gazed up at the silver-white peak behind the cabin. Then he looked over and grinned at me. “Does this satisfy the snowed-in trope?”

“It counts.” He’d driven the snowy roads down the mountain and into town just fine so far, but nobody else would come up the long and winding path to our rental. Might as well consider us snowed in.

He clomped closer, his snow boots crunching with every step. “And the holiday romance trope.”

“And the only one bed trope.”

“Naturally. Maybe we should try the cuddling to stay warm trope?”

“It is awfully cold.” Despite my thermal long underwear, snow pants, double sweaters, and plush gloves, scarf, and hat. My cheeks and nose ached already, but I didn’t want to go in yet. I had to glory in as much snow as I could before we went back to Magnolia Ridge at the end of the week.

“First you need to endanger yourself doing something noble but misguided,” he said. “There’s probably a dog caught in a slushy creek or a calf stuck on a partially frozen lake you need to rescue. Then I rescue you. Then I warm you. Then the only one bed trope.”

I laughed outright, the sound echoing through the crisp air. “You’ve really been reading up.”

“I need some way to keep busy when I’m on multi-day trips and missing you like crazy.”

I’d stuffed his e-reader with a wide selection of romances and rom-coms to help him stay occupied on his hikes. Kind of amazed he’d actually been reading them, but it was just another thing I loved about Sam. He had no shame about the things he enjoyed. He went all in, soaking up joy every way he could.

“I like how hopeful they are,” he said. “They all get their happy endings.”

“Just like we did.” But unlike romance book couples, our happy ending was really where everything started. We got married in the fall in an intimate ceremony with our closest family and friends. And now our future stretched out in front of us, waiting for us to discover new views and experiences side by side.

I shook my head to try to clear it. Maybe I still had some fuzzy-brain symptoms lingering from the altitude sickness. Or maybe I’d never been as happy as I’d become ever since Sam came back home to me.

We kept walking, circling the cabin. The mountains left me breathless—literally and figuratively. The snow-covered forest surrounding us made for a pretty backdrop, and some spots on the property offered views of a shiny blue lake lined with icy white edges. I’d never been in a more perfect winter wonderland.

I finally started to understand why Sam loved the outdoors so much. Not that he got views like this working in central Texas.

“You know one trope we haven’t indulged in enough?” I asked. He cocked an eyebrow at me, his thoughts clearly veering in a different direction from mine. “The he bakes for her trope. A truly excellent micro-trope.”

“You want cookies? You’ve got ‘em.” He smiled so wide his dimples popped on his cheeks. “Anything for you, Harps.”

I wanted to nibble on those dimples. Then some cookies. Then the dimples again.

When we were within fifty feet of the cabin’s front door, Sam called out, “You know another trope we’ve never done?”

I turned to face him and realized he was lingering a short distance behind me. He also had a snowball in one gloved hand and a devilish look on his face.

“That’s not a trope!” I shouted as I bolted down the path.

“Flirty snowball fighting’s a trope,” he called.

I never should have introduced him to rom-coms.

Two seconds later that snowball hit me in the butt. I shrieked with laughter, awkwardly scooping up a handful of snow as I tried to put some distance between us. I turned enough to chuck my snowball in his direction, but that just gave him the opportunity to throw another at my front.

Incidentally, my throw missed him by about five feet, while his hit dead center.

I took off running again, but I hadn’t gone far before his arms came around me, lifting me off my feet. He threw us sideways into the powdery snow, twisting so I landed on him with another shriek of laughter. He shifted to lean over me, his eyes alight.

That fiery look in his gaze should have melted all the snow on this mountainside.

“Okay there, Harps?” he asked softly.

“I’m good.” I had a lot of practice falling in the snow when he taught me to ski. I spent more time on my rear than my feet that day. “Is this step one in your cuddling for warmth plan?”

“Nah.” He leaned in until his breath ghosted over my chilled skin. “This was the whole plan.”

His warm mouth met mine, heating me up as though we weren’t half buried in a snow drift. He kissed me long and hard, promising all sorts of other plans we could explore later. Suddenly, my breathlessness had nothing to do with the views or the altitude.

He smiled against my mouth mid-kiss, and my heart burst for him just a little more. Another thing he did shamelessly? Adore me. And I loved him endlessly for it.

When he finally broke the kiss, he sighed. I gazed up at him, always in awe this man was mine. Snowflakes stuck in his knit hat and freckled the blonde curls that had escaped its confines. His cheeks were pink and his lips were kiss-stung, but his eyes burned bright for me.

“Ready for those cookies?” he asked.

It was either that, or get frostbite while we made out. Honestly, it would be worth the risk to my extremities.

Inside, we changed into toasty lounge clothes, and he set to work in the kitchen. Our cabin came stocked with essentials, and I’d insisted on baking sugar cookies already, but we could always make room for more.

The cabin also came decorated for the holidays, with a gorgeous Christmas tree covered in rustic ornaments, lighted garlands around the picture windows, and bright pops of red throughout the cozy place. When he’d suggested a snowy trip away for the holiday, I’d been a little nervous. What would we do without my ornaments or our families or my exhaustive collection of cheesy movies? But he’d picked such a perfect spot for us, I didn’t miss a thing.

A secret I would forever keep from my mom.

I stood at the front window watching the snow fall. Clouds obscured the tops of the mountains, promising a snowy night. Maybe we would actually get snowed in, after all.

I was good with that.

“How did you ever leave this place?” I asked.

He chuckled. “I feel like I won you over on mountain views.”

I joined him in the kitchen where he added ingredients to the stand mixer at the small island. “It’s not just the views. It’s the people, too. We’ve only been here a few days and we’ve run into at least a dozen people who think the world of you.”

He’d taken me to a few of his favorite places in town, and everywhere we went, someone remembered him from when he lived here before. They had nothing but good things to say about him, and several asked if he had plans to come back. Clearly, he was a popular guy around town.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re missing out on something by not being here,” I said. “This feels kind of like you brought me home.”

He’d never said he wanted to come back to stay, but I couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere deep down, he did.

He watched me carefully, then switched off the mixer. “Harper. I left Durango because I felt a pull here.”

He put a finger over his heart. “Like I had a string tied there, urging me closer.” He stepped toward me. “And closer.”

He moved straight into my space, his intense gaze lighting me up inside. “My heart is tied to yours.”

I slipped my arms around his waist. “That is so sweet. You read Jane Eyre.”

“I have questions about the attic wife, but the point is…” He wrapped his arms around me tight, like he had no intention of ever letting go again. “Durango is great. It’s fun, and beautiful, and yeah, I still have friends here. But I want to be with you. Wherever you are. You are my true home.”

My wonderful husband. Those romance books were really rubbing off on him. I loved it.

I kissed him to distract myself from tearing up. “I love you. No matter where we end up.”

“I love you, too, Harps. Always.” He squeezed my waist. “Now. I’m going to finish baking these ginger cookies. Then we’re going to eat them. Then I’m going to cuddle you for warmth in front of the fireplace.”

“All my favorite tropes.”

###

MAKE IT REAL

CALLIE

“You are naughty.” My voice took on the somewhat stern tone I used when my kindergarteners got out of hand. “Cute. But so naughty.”

I clutched a handful of Christmas ornaments I’d rescued to my chest, carefully placing each one higher on the tree.

“My ears are burning,” Jed said from behind me. Then he made a grumpy sound. “Well. I don’t love this.”

He’d caught me standing on a stepladder as I redistributed the Christmas ornaments. Mildly embarrassing, but such was the life of a fun-sized woman.

“You can blame this furball.” I gestured at the puppy sitting in an awkward sprawl in front of the tree, watching my every move. Then, reaching her Sitting Still maximum limit of 17 seconds, she stood and jumped at the tree, biting an ornament. “See?”

Jed laughed as he joined us, but rather than scoop up the wayward puppy, he put a hand at my waist. “She’s in the holiday spirit. Maybe that could be her name. Holiday.”

I kept finding spots for my ornaments, considering. He’d presented her to me two days ago, and I loved her to pieces. She was some kind of mutt, probably lab and, judging from her mottled brown fur and bright blue eyes, a touch of Australian Shepherd. She was, quite frankly, the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. Just hadn’t settled on a name for the fluff monster yet.

“I’m a little worried she’ll knock down the tree in her enthusiasm.”

“She resents such defamation of her character.” He leaned down enough to get her attention, making her tail wag like crazy. “Don’t you, you little sweetheart?”

“She’s also torn the wrapping off of two presents so far.” My scolding didn’t carry a whole lot of weight when they both looked so cute. Like I could ever stay mad at either of them.

“I asked her to do some reconnaissance on my gifts. Can’t blame a girl for following orders.”

I laughed. “You’re worse than your niece and nephews. Would you rescue the rest of the felt ornaments that are lower than three feet high? She’s decided they make perfect chew toys.”

We’d decorated our tree in soft, red-and-white ornaments I’d hand stitched, along with a variety of vintage-looking baubles and puffy white garlands. We’d even used real candy canes as decorations, but the puppy still managed to go for the ones I’d made. I couldn’t tell if that meant she liked me, or had claimed me as her sworn enemy.

Hopefully not my sworn enemy, since her cuteness meant I’d probably surrender to anything she wanted. Exactly the same way I did with my husband.

Jed seemed reluctant to leave my side, as though I might take a tumble from this great height of twenty-four inches. His protectiveness was endearing, even when it was totally unwarranted.

“You can come on down from there, and I’ll be the Christmas tree hero, how about that?”

“Jed. Please. I don’t know if dog slobber will wash out of these ornaments.”

He groaned but swiftly helped me redistribute the felt pieces around the tree. “Good?”

I surveyed our work. It was ridiculous, really. The top half of the tree shone with beautiful decorations, the lower half bare except for lights. Exactly the same methods Wade and Annie used to protect their tree from Maisie’s grabby hands.

“I think it’s as good as we can hope for with this little terror in the house.” The puppy yipped as though she knew I was talking about her. “I’m sorry. Adorable terror.”

“Great. Now come down.”

Oh, my devoted, anxiety-prone man. I wouldn’t poke him over anything that caused him legitimate worry, but I couldn’t help it when I barely stood a foot taller than him like this. Much danger.

“I don’t know, I see some bare spots up here,” I teased. I made to lean across the tree. “Let me just—”

Jed grabbed me by the waist, swooped me into his arms, and trotted over to the sofa. The puppy yipped at us the whole way, her cries vying with my laughter.

He plopped us down so I landed safely in his lap. “That’s enough of that, Callie Lou.”

“It was a Christmas tree emergency.”

“Emergency averted.” He held me close, nuzzling his nose against my ear. “This is much better. You’re right where you belong—in my arms.”

My giggles turned into sighs. He knew exactly how to unravel me, and wasted no time. “Are you going to behave while Gran is in town?”

We had to drive down to Austin to pick her up tomorrow morning. I didn’t envy her flying in on Christmas Eve, but I guess she’d found a good deal on her tickets.

“I will absolutely not behave.” Jed squeezed me as close as he could. “That’s why she’s staying at my Pop’s.”

Just a touch mortifying that they’d worked it out for my grandma to stay with his dad and Marilyn, as though we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other for five minutes.

Although, looking at the way the last five minutes had gone, maybe they were right to do it. Still. Not the kind of conversation you want your loved ones having about you.

“You’re a menace.” My words ended on a strangled groan as Jed kissed his way along my neck. Naughty, naughty man. I loved it.

The puppy yipped, scrambling to try to get on the couch but unable to reach us. I lifted her up, and she immediately leaped into my lap. She couldn’t seem to decide who she wanted to lick first, and her long tongue lapped the air at each of us in turn.

“You’re a menace, too,” I told her. “She’s learning all her bad behavior from you.”

“Feels like commentary on my kisses, Callie Lou.”

He licked my ear, making me squirm and squeal, which just encouraged more happy barks from our puppy. “I’d never complain about those. Except if you’re not giving me enough.”

He rested his cheek against mine, and I could feel his smile from that small touch.

“When have I not given you enough kisses?”

“It hasn’t happened yet,” I admitted as I tried to settle the dog. She finally curled up in my lap, seemingly content with her choice of pillow. “Maybe it’s more of a warning.”

“You can rest easy, darlin’. I’m going to erase ‘Not enough kisses’ from your vocabulary.”

“Not enough—”

He pressed his mouth to my cheek. “Now who’s the naughty one?”

I shifted enough to ensure he made good on his promise. This man kissed me like his only goal in life was to make me melt. Sometimes his kisses were intense and almost overwhelming. Sometimes achingly delicate. Other times, like now, he was more playful. Like the kiss was a dare, and he wanted to know if I was up for the challenge.

I nipped his lower lip and took control of the kiss, slowing it down until he groaned. Challenge accepted, Jed Evans.

When we finally broke apart, I almost wished I didn’t have a warm bundle of fur in my lap. He settled me against him without disturbing the dog, his fingers lightly playing over my arm.

“She’s asleep.” I stroked her soft ears as her chest rose and fell.

“She’s already learned that cuddling with you is the best way to fall asleep.”

I smiled at that. He still had bad nights sometimes, but more often than not, he slept curled around me, his arm protectively holding me to him. Until we both overheated and shifted apart, but he always slept with a hand on my arm or my side. Like he needed to be sure of me.

“Are you happy?” His voice had lost the playful lilt to it. “With the dog. The house. Our life together.”

I turned to try to face him, needing to look into his eyes. And there it was—a vulnerability that seemed to crack open my heart just a little bit more for him. “Jed.”

“Because I am. So happy with you, Callie.” He cupped my cheek in one hand. “Living with you, being your husband, experiencing everything together…you’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have. And I want to be sure I make you just as happy as I am every day.”

My sweet man. Could he give me any more reasons to love the crap out of him?

“I am happy, Jed. I love you relentlessly. Not to brag, but you make me stupidly happy. I’m lucky every day to have you, and this life together, and this farm, and this cute, ridiculous dog. This is exactly what I want.”

He nodded, but I caught the shine in his eyes. “Good. Because I’m obsessed with my wife.”

I shivered. Definitely more embarrassing than having to use a step stool to decorate the tree, but I couldn’t help my Pavlovian response when he called me his wife. It was pretty much my favorite thing ever.

I kissed his mouth in a quick peck. “Good. Now let’s turn on It’s a Wonderful Life and make out.”

“Excellent idea. Like a drinking game, but better. I’ll kiss you every time someone says the name ‘Zuzu.’”

We locked eyes.

“Zuzu?” I asked.

He grinned, hitching a shoulder. “I’m good with it if you are.”

I turned back to the fluff ball in my lap and stroked her side. “What do you think of Zuzu, girl?”

She released the softest yip in her sleep. Jed and I both chuckled.

“Zuzu it is,” I confirmed.

Jed kissed me again. “Merry Christmas, Callie Lou.”