Page 92 of Christmas Criminal

I wait for a moment, wondering if Hank is going to give me any clue whatsoever, until he turns to me and nods pointedly as if to confirm that he will not, in fact, be offering any further explanation.

Noelle normally comesto visit her mom on Christmas Eve and Christmas, but otherwise opts to hang out in the city for the holidays.

Except this year, she'll be visiting me.

She comes back late at night after dropping her sister off at her mom's, and nearly bowls me over as she rushes into the house, her arms loaded heavy with two duffel bags and a Santa sack.

She'll be staying through the new year, andthatis the best Christmas present I could have asked for.

I take her bags and a quick kiss from cold lips, and follow her into the living room, where she promptly dumps out the Santa sack onto the ground and arranges the presents beneath the tree. I drop her duffel bags at the bottom of the stairs to worry about later.

"Noelle, what is all this?"

"Don't worry, it's not for you."

I laugh. "I wasn't worried. I thought it was cute. The Christmas elf strikes again."

She's on her hands and knees in front of the tree, stuffing presents underneath it, and she turns to shoot me a glare. "I am not a Christmas elf. But I hate the thought of Christmas presents being stuffed in a bag until the day of, you know? They should be able to breathe. Absorb the feeling of Christmas before doing their duty on the day of and being torn to shreds."

I grin, kneeling down next to her and helping her stuff them all underneath. They're mostly presents for her mom and sister, and a couple small ones for me, but I catch a few that surprise me. Mrs. Nguyen, the librarian who was nice to her in high school. Mrs. Singh, her friend's mom who ran the coffee hut. Naomi, her half-sister, and Cassidy who I can only assume is theotherhalf-sister, considering the similar size and weight of the presents. I smile as I see that she even has one for Hank.

"Noelle," I say, that warming sensation spreading through my chest again. "Youarea little Christmas elf."

"Can you please stop saying that?" she groans.

"YouloveChristmas."

"No, I don't!"

I gesture to all the presents underneath the tree. "You'resweet."

"I am not!"

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest and smothering her with every ounce of love I can give her because–like Hank said–she's got a whole lot of love under that prickly exterior of hers.

She's resistant at first, pushing against my chest and groaning. "I am not sweet!"

I kiss her forehead and her cheeks and her lips, and it doesn't take long for her to melt, to tug me closer and kiss me and start pulling at my clothes.

"Do you taste as sweet as you act?" I ask, as I trail my lips down her neck.

"I guess you'll have to find out," she says coyly, pressing away from me with a slick little grin on her face.

On my living room floor in front of the Christmas tree–a place we keep managing to end up naked–I eat my very favorite dessert to the tune of her pleasure ringing out around us. I tease her for being so sweet, and she threatens to throw my presents out and replace them with coal.

I don't have the heart to tell her the only real present I care about isher.

Although she refusesto admit she enjoys it, we spend the night listening to Christmas music, drinking wine, and making cookies that she decorates with curse words and penises, the perfect contrast to my lopsided trees and wreaths. I take her inthe kitchen while she's chomping on chocolate-covered berries, and as I'm trying to clean up the mess of chocolate pieces on the counter beneath her, she sinks to her knees and cleans me right out.

We fall into bed tangled up with one another, and I wake in the morning to a smiling girl next to me. She claims it's not because of Christmas, but she grins when I ask her if she wants a special Christmas Eve breakfast.

As we cook in my kitchen, her prancing around in one of myI heart mathT-shirts and her bare feet, I get lost watching her. I've wanted something like this for so long that I almost don't believe it. Someone who's a little goofy and a little prickly sometimes, but loves with unequaled ferocity.

She catches me grinning stupidly at her and eyes me, a piece of bacon halfway into her mouth. "What?"

I shake my head. "Just happy you're here."

Her eyes narrow. "And you callmesweet."

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