“Yeah, growing up I looked forward to it every year, then one day I didn’t.”
I released her and squeezed the messy dark brown bun on top of her head.
“There’s a present for you in the living room.”
Yup, best to give it to her now. Maybe she’d drop the subject.
“Did you celebrate Christmas here every year?”
“Yes. My mom and dad didn’t have much. My grandparents weren’t poor. They were middle class. They made it a point to purchase our plane tickets and gave my brothers and I the toys my parents couldn’t afford. I didn’t care about the gifts. Being together was all that mattered.”
I stalked toward the living room, clutching her hand.
“Noah, let me help you heal. Something happened in your life that made you hate this holiday.”
Not just one thing.
Spinning her, I caressed her face. “Hope, let it go.”
“I won’t. You can’t say I’m your woman and shut me out. Starting a relationship like this is sure to end in disaster.”
“Give me a little more time. Being here. On this mountain brings back so many good memories and...”
“Some bad.”
“Hope, the gift.” I planted my lips against her forehead, then extended my hand. Her eyes bulged as they landed on the package.
“Wow.” Strutting across the room, she shot daggers back at me. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“Didn’t think it would be.” I stepped over and watched as she unwrapped the gift.
“This is a state-of-the-art commercial sewing machine with a table.”
“I thought we’d stay a few extra days into the new year. Give you time to sew on vacation.”
Her soft gaze met mine. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Hope, I plan to tell you everything. I just don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
Her breasts slammed against my chest as her fingers tugged my neck, bending my body until our lips touched. “Not a chance, big guy.”
My lips devoured hers. She was the one. How did I luck up and find the woman of my dreams here? What was this holiday season trying to share? A Christmas miracle?
“Oh, and the guys dropped off a brand-new Sorry, Monopoly, and a trivia game.” I pointed toward the dining table.
“It’s over for you.” She broke our embrace and darted back into the bathroom.
“If I win, you have to help me actively select a Christmas tree.”
“I sighed as I picked up a caulking gun. You’re on.”
She danced in place. “You’re going down.”
HOPE
CUPPING MY GLOVED HANDSover my mouth, I beamed with excitement in the mist of the tree farm.
Mr. Growly was back. “Noah, thanks for helping me select a tree.”