Page 5 of Babygirl for Christmas

Cherry lets out a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just swamped at work right now, and it’s not a good time.”

She’s making flimsy excuses, but that’s okay. I’m in this for the long haul. I won’t be giving up so easily. Soon enough, she’ll see that she’s meant to be mine.

My babygirl.

“You still need to eat. What if I pick something up and we eat here? I could get lasagna from Mario’s,” I say, tempting her with her favorite.

She nibbles the edge of her thumb. An old habit that she only does when she’s anxious about something. I wait her out. I know better than to push her too hard. I don’t want to break her resolve… just nudge it a little—Cherry’s fragile right now. Don’t get me wrong, she’s the strongest person I know, but losing her grandma has been hard. The loss has taken its toll.

“Okay, Nick. Tomorrow night. I won’t be home until around eight, and I’m not making any promises that I’ll be good company.”

I smile, ridiculously pleased that she said yes despite her misgivings. Brave girl.

“I’ll see you at eight.”

I leave quickly after that, not wanting to give her the chance to change her mind.

5

CHERRY

I completely forgotabout my newest present last night. After Nick left, I fell into an exhausted heap on my bed, clothes, and all. I slept the sleep of the dead. Luckily, I have an alarm set on my phone, or I never would’ve crawled out of bed this morning. I force myself to wait until I take my shower and get ready for the day before opening the gift. I gasp at the beautiful, hand-carved ornament of two turtle doves. It’s gorgeous. The intricate details on the feathers and how the birds are wrapped around each other as if they can’t stand to be parted… it’s just beautiful.

I’m nibbling on one of the sugar cookies and nursing a cup of coffee when there’s a loud thud on my front porch.

What in the…

I rush to the door and fling it open, coming up short when I’m faced with a giant Christmas tree. An amazing, beautiful, perfect tree. For about five seconds, I’m giddy with excitement, but that quickly turns into irritation when I realize there’s no way in the world for me to get this beast inside my house. Not to mention it’s blocking the door, and there’s no way for me to get around it. I’ll have to go out the back and trudge through the snow in the backyard when I leave for work.

I see a little card tied to one of the branches. I grab the card and close the door on the beautiful monstrosity.

Time to trim the tree. -Santa

I’m half annoyed at being forced into decorating and half excited to have a tree. I chose to not decorate this year because I wasn’t feeling it. Not with my heart still aching without my grandma here. Perhaps if I decorate, the Christmas spirit will find me, and just maybe I’ll find some relief from my sadness.

* * *

I’m still debatingon what to wear when there’s a knock on my door. Nick is right on time. I look down at myself, grimacing when I take in the huge purple stain on my shirt. I tripped over my own two feet and ended up spilling purple hair dye all over myself and the salon floor.

Oh well, nothing I can do about it now.

I open the door, and my welcoming words die in my throat when I take in the man in front of me. Nick is dressed casually in dark wash jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that highlights his muscular build. His dark hair is just slightly too long, unkempt in that just-rolled-out-of-bed kind of way. I immediately regret not having time to change.

“So you decided to get a tree after all,” he says, sounding pleased.

“Not exactly…” I hedge, unsure if I should tell him about my secret Santa. “Someone left it in front of my door this morning.”

He nods as if there’s nothing odd about that. For half a second, I wonder if maybe Nick is my secret Santa, but quickly dismiss that possibility.

“We should bring it inside and get it set up.”

I watch as he hefts the big tree as if it weighs nothing. His muscles flex beneath his shirt, and I swear my panties dissolve into nothing with how sexy it is to watch his body move. He easily carries the tree into the living room and over to the bay window. Once he has it in place, he brushes his hands off on his jeans, drawing my attention to his sculpted ass.

Hot damn.

“How does it look?” His voice is slightly amused, and I wonder if that’s not the first time he’s asked. I look up from his sexy butt and flush with embarrassment when I see the heated look in his eyes.

“It’s great... the tree, I mean.”

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