Page 44 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

Mom pulls the oven mitts from her hands and sets them on the counter. “We’re aiming for Pinterest-worthy cookies. I can’t hand out ones that look like they were iced with a blindfold on,” she calls out, making sure everyone at the table hears.

“If that’s the standard expected, Marlow and Everly are the only ones qualified to decorate,” Presley answers with a chuckle.

She’s seated next to Jack, who’s glued to her side. Their chairs are pulled close together, with his arm draped around her shoulder.

“You’re doing great,” Jack praises her. “The design on your snowflake cookie may be abstract, but it’s bold and artistic.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of you, babe.” Presley flashes Jack a grin, nodding to the uneven lines of icing and clumps of sprinkles. “But that’s stretching the truth. It looks more like flies tangled in a sticky web than a snowflake.”

“It’s perfect because you made it, little vixen.” Jack plants a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Love you,” Presley murmurs, stars in her eyes as she gazes at him. She’s totally smitten, and he’s just as captivated by her.

“Don’t worry, you can thank me for my supportive comments later,” Jack smirks.

They fell in love two years ago during Christmas. When they got to Aspen Grove, Mom insisted they stay in Presley’s childhood room with only one bed since they told her they were a couple. She knew who Jack was the whole time, which is why I’m skeptical of anything she does.

“If you two get any cheesier, I’m going to have to bill you for emotional damages,” Cash complains, mimicking a gag.

“You’re one to talk,” Presley quips, gesturing to Everly, who’s perched on Cash’s lap, his hand resting possessively on her hip.

Cash shrugs, giving a lopsided grin. “There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, so we improvised.”

Presley rolls her eyes, then turns her attention back to her cookie, frowning when she notices the icing dripping off the edges.

I take the only empty seat next to Cash and Everly. His gaze is fixed on her as she’s immersed in decorating a Christmas tree, meticulously piping on green icing.

She glances at Cash, raising an eyebrow. “Afraid to get your hands dirty?” she teases.

He shakes his head, reaching out and swiping a speck of frosting from her cheek. “Nope. Just enjoying the view.” He winks, licking the frosting off his finger.

“Maybe you two should take this somewhere private,” I taunt, trying to keep a straight face. “Are you forgetting there’s a kid present?” I nod toward Lola, who’s drowning her snowman cookie in white frosting, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

Cash scoffs. “Oh, right. Like Dylan and Marlow are any better at keeping their PDA under control.”

“We’re literally just holding hands,” Dylan says, lifting up their intertwined fingers. “That’s tame compared to sitting on top of each other,” he says, nodding at Cash. “Or exchangingthose ridiculous googly eyes every five seconds,” he adds, eyeing Presley.

“Yes, and even that makes it very difficult to decorate,” Marlow teases as she puts the finishing touches on her gingerbread man’s perfect smile with her other hand.

“Look how silly Waffles, Muffin, Jellybean, and Cheez-It look running around in the snow,” Lola interrupts with a giggle.

Everyone turns toward the windows, looking out into the backyard to see Waffles bounding through the snow with three tiny furballs with floppy ears trotting closely behind him, yipping with excitement. My dad installed a doggy door leading from the heated garage to the outside, and even in the cold, they prefer it.

“It’s going to be a pain to clean them all up when they come inside,” Dylan grumbles, his voice softening as he glances at Marlow with affection. “Please tell me we’re not adopting another dog anytime soon.”

“Not as of now,” she says vaguely. “But I make no promises if any others come to the shelter that fit with our family.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dylan mumbles.

Marlow swats him on the chest. “You love our dogs, and if another came into the mix, you’d feel the same.”

“You’re right, sunshine.” He assures her with a smile.

“Let’s hope you have better luck training any future dogs than you did with Waffles and the puppies,” Cash taunts with a playful smirk.

“Hilarious,” Dylan responds dryly.

“I thought so.” Cash grins triumphantly, squaring his shoulders.

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