Page 26 of The Sleight Before Christmas

“Thatch,” she murmurs, holding my gaze as I start to thrum, fucking ache for her. “I can tell this is important to you, and I promise I hear you.”

“Ah, so she does listen,” I whisper, “she gets it.”

“I think I want to,” she whispers back so sincerely that my pulse skips.

Fuck.

It’s all I can do to keep from closing my eyes, the temptation becoming too much. Her voice is a raspy, soothing mix. Her tongue touched with the faintest hint of southern twang, whichsets me alight as I reach up and run a lock of her silky blonde strands through my fingers. In that moment, I feel like I’m tainting her and drop it. With that sinking feeling, I decide to make good on my exit. It’s the haze in her eyes that warns me away as I lean in, tempted just to brush my lips against hers. Just a little. But it’s my good sense that wins out, that has me whispering one last fast “good night” before I ease back and successfully will myself to the door.

It’s my foolish, ignorant fucking everything else that has me clipping a reply when she calls after me in summons.

“Same time tomorrow night?”

“Maybe.”

Pulling up to the cabin, I note the lights are already up, thankful for the addition of Eli to our family. Who, with Allen’s blessing, relieved him of the annual staple gun task when he lit up the mountain as part of his proposal to Whitney. The sun sets steadily as they shine brightly, guiding us up the driveway and toward the A-frame cabin perched cliffside.

Built in the late seventies, the home is far from a relic and utterly idyllic. Its interior is no less perfect, with large floor-to-ceiling windows and a story-tall stone hearth that can host a fire big enough to warm the entirety of the house. Toss in Ruby’s classic, no holds barred décor, and the cabin both looksand feelsexactly like the type of place one would want to spend any holiday. Specifically, this one. Gazing at the house perched on the mountain cliff, I’m thankful coming here for Christmas has been a new tradition in recent years. Since the original owners, Grammy P and Grandpa Joe passed away, Ruby is determinedto keep their memory alive. We all are. I forever remain thankful that I was lucky enough to know them and grieve their loss along with the rest of the family.

Putting my truck in park, I glance over to Serena, who’s wearing her typical hoodie and leggings. Her hair tied in her usual messy bun as she stares on at the setting. But it’s her neck, or rather the fresh but faint mark just beneath her ear, that keeps my attention.

“I love you,” I whisper over the cabin.

She whips her head toward me, her eyes shining with sentiment, her lips parting. “I love you too, babe.”

Leaning over, I give her a brief kiss, ignoring Gracie’s gag and Peyton’s order to stop kissing his mommy. Serena surprises me by pulling my neck to bring our lips back flush and extending it to spite them before leaning over, her whisper just for me.

“Ride or die, no fucks given, make out on a whim, Thatch and Serena in the house.”

“My fucking girl,” I give her a half-grin and mentally roll up my sleeves. “Let’s do this.”

She nods. “I’ll grab our suitcases.”

Hopping out, I open the SUV door as Peyton unbuckles himself, and Gracie jumps out, stretching her legs. Grabbing Serena and my suitcases from the bed of my truck, I call after Gracie as she starts to climb the double set of short stairs that lead to the front door. “Gracie, you forgot to get your suitcase.”

Gracie stops just short of the second flight and turns back to me. “What?”

“Your suitcase. I’m assuming you’ll want the full wardrobe you packed, the makeup, and your toothbrush.”

“Yeah, so bring it up,” she demands.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” I look down to Peyton. “You too.”

“Daddy, I can’t carry my suitcase! It’s too heaby!”

“Hmm, sounds like your problem,” I walk past Serena—whose own eyes are widening slightly—and cut any words she might have with the swift jerk of my chin. Serena nods and follows me up the stairs, elevating her voice.

“Thatch, do you need help? I’m happy to carry mine.” Serena offers to set an example. Winging it, we’ve decided to make the rules up as we go.

“No, baby, I’m good, but thank you for asking.”

“Dad, you can’t leave us out here. We can’t bring our own suitcases up!”

Stopping, I put Serena’s case down and palm the storm door. “I believe your mother told you to pack one case and only what you need.”

“I need my toys!” Peyton barks. “I didn’t pack them all.”

“Well, your mother packed for you, and you threw it all out and packed your toys.”

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