Page 17 of Packed for the Holidays

“I really like mint,” Ellis beams as Nils walks past the kitchen, gently wafting his minty eucalyptus scent as he passes.

Lily makes fake barfing sounds into her empty cup. “I love Nils, but I couldn’t pack up with a minty person.”

Dante jerks his head up like Lily just declared she wants to tattoo nutcrackers on her forehead. “Woah, little miss. You’ve got a long way to go before you worry about packing up.”

My littlest sister rolls her eyes with an attitude too well defined for her young years, and I can’t help but snort a laugh.

“You haven’t even designated yet, Lil. Just relax.” I try to keep my tone calm and not exasperated. She’s way too young to be thinking about a pack!

The door to the office opens, and Harrison comes out looking like he heard every word of our chat.

“Who is packing up with what now?” He crosses his arms across his chest. I love the protective vibe softly radiating off him. “Is there someone you’re seeing that I need to meet?”

Lily rolls her eyes, but I can tell she loves the attention. Whenever my sisters start dating, their prospective significant others will have a whole pack of brothers-in-law to prove themselves to. My dad would love it, the way my men have stepped in to love my sisters.

I can’t wait to see Harrison as a father.

As if sensing my thoughts, Harrison moves toward me and places a kiss on my forehead. I pull him down by the collar of his shirt and kiss him, sending all my love through our bond before changing the topic away from my sisters growing up too fast. “You’re going down, you know that, right? We Harper women are pretty competitive.”

“I don’t mind going down, Meggie,” Harrison whispers in my ear. “In fact, I’d be happy to take you upstairs right now and—”

I backhand his arm. “Shhh! My family’s here.”

For someone who spent most of his life with little to no interest in sex, my reserved pack alpha has become remarkably insatiable. He’s also the one who most enjoys eating me out. Maybe it’s because the smell is more concentrated when his face is between my thighs. We all know how my apple pie scent does it for him. I don’t particularly care why he loves it so much, just that he does.

His eyes dilate, no doubt guessing exactly what I’m thinking about.

“None of that.” I push him a few inches away before my body decides tocancel this whole thing and drag him up to bed. “Are you ready to lose?”

“Oh, I’m not losing, because I’m not playing against you. I’m on your team, love. It’s my one requirement as pack alpha.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I’m always on your team.”

I feel the adoration he’s sending through the bond, and I know he feels mine, but I tell him anyway because sometimes it’s nice to hear. “I love you, Harrison Hart.”

“And I love you, Meggie Hart.”

“Get a room,” Vickie groans.

12

Meggie

Our traditional gingerbread house competition started the year after my dad died. Vickie and Lily were fighting over who got to wear his Christmas sweater, so mom created a gingerbread house competition to decide.

Every Christmas Eve we make homemade gingerbread, get all the candy mom can afford, and give them two hours to make the best gingerbread house they can. Mom and I trade off who’s team we’re on, and when it’s all done, we put pictures on social media so that friends can vote without knowing which house belongs to which sister.

Whoever wins gets the Harper Family Christmas Sweater. It’s a giant red monstrosity with a Christmastree on the front that’s covered in bells and little toy ornaments no bigger than a fingernail. There’s a scary-ass doll, a rocking horse, a little toy soldier, a teddy bear, a snake (for some reason), and a few other little trinkets, some of which have fallen off over the years and been diligently reattached by my mom. Because of the bells, it makes a flat tinkling noise anytime you move in it.

My mom bought it for my dad for an ugly Christmas sweater party when they were dating, and even though it’s an eye-sore, it’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt. And since it was dad’s, it’s always been special.

After so many years of wear, it’s fraying around the hem, but it’s still just as loved as ever. And it’s still just as ridiculously funny, too.

I really want to see one of my guys wearing it.

“Everyone know their teams?” I ask when my pack and my family gather in the kitchen, cleaned up and ready.

“Yep.” Ellis is already wearing his team Candy Cane Crew shirt as he hands out t-shirts to the rest of the group. He got them all in size extra large so they’d fit anyone on any team. My sisters absolutely swim in them, which makes us all laugh and they scowl before getting in the mood and demanding pictures.

We’ve got three teams.

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