Page 29 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

“Stay with me?” I murmured, the words barely audible.

Holt shifted, adjusting his position so I could rest my head more comfortably on his shoulder. The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was the gentle stroke of his hand through my hair and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.

“Mommy!Mr. Wheaton! It’s Christmas and Santa came! I know he did!”

Luna’s excited voice pulled me from a deep sleep. Disorientation hit me as I blinked awake to find myself still on the sofa, Holt’s arm around me, both of us covered with a blanket I didn’t remember retrieving. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and Luna stood before us, bouncing with excitement, not at all confused by the sight of her mother curled up with a man she barely knew.

Heat rushed to my face as I extracted myself from Holt’s embrace, realizing how this must look. But Holt transitioned smoothly, stretching as if waking up on the sofa with me was the most natural thing in the world.

“Merry Christmas, Luna.” His voice was raspy. “Did you say something about presents?”

Luna shifted on her feet, her curls bouncing. “I’m sorry, Mommy, but I peeked. There’s a HUGE pile under the tree.”

“It’s okay, Luna-bug. I’m sorry I wasn’t next to you when you woke up.”

“There’s even stockings forbothof us!”

“Somebody told me he also left you a big, fluffy robe and a pair of slippers in your bathroom. Why don’t you go check?” Holt suggested with a wink.

Luna needed no further encouragement, racing from the room with Bunny trailing from her hand.

I pushed my hair from my face, mortification setting in. “Holt, I?—”

“Don’t overthink this,” he said gently. “Neither of us planned to fall asleep here. It just happened.”

“But Luna?—”

“Doesn’t think anything of it,” he finished. “Kids that age don’t overthink things the way adults do.”

He was right, of course. Luna had been entirely focused on the Christmas morning, oblivious to any potential awkwardness.

“I should get dressed,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the bedroom. “Make myself presentable.”

His eyes traveled over me. “You look perfect to me.” Despite my disheveled state, I felt beautiful under his gaze. “But I know what you mean. I should probably change too. Meet you out there in fifteen? I doubt you can keep Luna waiting much longer than that.”

I watched as he stood and stretched, his T-shirt riding up to reveal a strip of tanned skin above his jeans. I quickly averted my eyes, but not before he caught me looking. His knowing smile followed me as I hurried toward the bedroom.

In the bathroom mirror, I confronted my reflection—flushed cheeks, wild curls, eyes still puffy from last night’s tears. I splashed cold water on my face and attempted to do something with my hair before changing into the outfit I’d packed—jeansand a green sweater that Luna insisted was my “Christmas color.”

By the time I emerged, the bedroom door was wide open. I walked out to the room where the family was gathered and saw Luna was already on the floor with the other kids, gazing at all the gifts but not touching any. Like Holt had said were waiting for her, she was wearing a fuzzy robe and slippers, both covered with mystical creatures. Self-doubt washed over me as I prepared to face Holt again.

I saw Flynn first when she approached from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “Merry Christmas,” she said warmly, offering the steaming cup. “Thought you might need this.”

“Thank you,” I replied, searching her face for any hint of judgment but finding only genuine welcome. “And thank you for yesterday. For everything.”

“We’re so glad you’re here,” she said simply, linking her arm through mine and guiding me toward the center of activity.

Across the room, Holt caught my gaze, a small reassuring smile playing on his lips. He’d changed into a fresh button-down shirt and jeans, his damp hair suggesting a hasty shower. His expression made my breath catch—a quiet intimacy, as if we shared a secret.

Flynn motioned to the dining room, where an elaborate breakfast spread awaited. “TJ and I might have gone a bit overboard,” she admitted. “Buck always insists presents come after breakfast,” Flynn explained. “Family tradition. Though, with the kids this excited, we’ll probably rush through it.”

The scene was a warm chaos as everyone piled into the room—the children’s excited chatter, adults laughing, the rich aromas of coffee and cinnamon filling the air. Luna took a seat between Buckaroo and an empty chair she was clearly saving for me.

Her visible happiness brought a lump to my throat. This was the kind of Christmas I’d always wanted to give her—warmth, tradition, multiple generations gathered around a table.

As we ate, I became aware of a growing anxiety. In the excitement of being invited and the rush to pack, I’d only brought what I’d gotten for Luna. I had nothing to give the Wheatons, who had opened their home to us.

Before I could dwell on it further, Buck stood, clapping his hands. “All right, who’s ready for presents?”

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