Page 123 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
Frosty swayed slightly in the breeze wafting off the ocean, guarding our tabletop tree on the portable picnic bench set in the sand. From my beach towel throne, I glanced over at Nick—goodness, my husband really was hot, and I was not referring to the sun warming his bare back—and grinned. “Remember that time I snuck Frosty into your…”
He leaned over and hushed me with a kiss, somehow still managing to smell like pine even beneath a layer of sunscreen. “Oh, I remember.”
“Knock it off, you two.” Ryan spread a beach towel next to us. Lydia dropped a tote bag overflowing with bottled water and books on top of it, startling a seagull hoping for snacks. It flapped away with a squawk.
I rolled onto my stomach and rested my chin on my folded arms. “Oh, come on. It’s Christmas.” I winked at Nick, who had started rubbing sunscreen on my shoulders. Not a bad way to spend my favorite holiday.
“Except you two are mushy all year long.” Ryan settled onto his blanket. “You’ve been married, what, ten weeks now?”
“Nine and a half.” Nick stopped the sunscreen application long enough to press a kiss to my cheek. “But who’s counting?”
Oh, I was.
“I guess we’re not the honeymooners of the family anymore.” Lydia sat next to Ryan, reaching up to adjust the wide-brimmed hat covering her fair hair.
“Excuse me, we’re not losing that title on my watch.” Ryanreached over and pulled her into his lap, planting a dozen exaggerated kisses on her neck.
Lydia laughed, then squirmed. “Careful, I’ve got a baby on my bladder these days.”
Ryan immediately let go. “So romantic.” He grinned as Lydia stood and hustled back up the beach to my parents’ condo. “That’ll be you before you know it, sis.” He nudged me with his pale arm. “Don’t drink the water.”
“Here.” Nick shoved a soda can in my hand so fast, all I could do was laugh.
Mom and Dad passed Lydia on the boardwalk on their way to the sand, hauling a wagon laden with food. I wasn’t a betting woman, but I’d wager one of those containers held sausage balls. Some traditions refused to die, a fact for which I was grateful. Devin hopped up from his chair to go help them.
Farther down the beach, Olivia and Paul strolled hand in hand at the water’s edge, while a white-bearded man in red swim trunks and a Santa hat waded knee-deep in the surf. The faint strains of “Jingle Bells” drifted from someone’s radio.
“I hope that man knows he’s not actually Santa.” Janie paused her sandcastle building and pursed her lips.
“I’ll tell him.” Mason glowered, whipping off his cap to smooth his hair before replacing it with an air of authority. “I’ll tell him about baby Jesus too.”
From her lawn chair under an umbrella, Kat laughed, eighteen-month-old Caleb sitting in her lap. “Pretty sure this family created a missionary a few Christmases ago.”
“Right? I love it.” Nick grinned as Mason strode purposefully across the sand toward the breakers and Santa. Then he frowned. “Wait. Has anyone discussed the whole stranger-danger concept with him yet?”
“On it.” Ryan got up from his towel and jogged after Mason.
Axel parked a polka-dotted baby stroller next to Kat’s chair with a sigh of exhaustion. “Parenting, am I right?” He plopped down in the lawn chair Devin had vacated and shook his head. “Especially potty training.”
“We’re not there yet.” Kat patted Caleb’s diapered behind. “But do keep me posted.”
Axel wiped sweat off his brow and nodded. “Oh, I will. It’s a whole mood.” Then he leaned forward and cooed into the shaded stroller. “Isn’t that right, girl?”
“Has the beach patrol spotted her yet?” Chloe stepped carefully toward us in her swim suit, her hot pink toes popping against the sand. “Sorry I’m late. My nails weren’t totally dry.”
“I got it covered. No cops so far; don’t worry.” Axel handed Chloe the diaper bag. “She’s probably hungry, though.”
“Again?She just ate a few hours ago.” Chloe popped the stroller cover back and reached inside. “C’mere, my little Angel.” She held up the teacup Chihuahua wearing a bonnet and planted a kiss on her bony little forehead.
“Better give Chloe one of those sodas,” I whispered to Nick.
He snorted, rolling over on one elbow to face me. “Do you think they realize Angel isn’t a real baby?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Axel discussing homemade baby food recipes with Kat and tried to muffle my laugh. “Oh, she’s their baby all right.”
“I mean…maybe it doesn’t sound like ahorribleidea to drink the water.” Nick reached over and threaded my fingers with his.
Heat spread from my head to my toes, despite the clouds now having completely covered the sun. “I agree. I mean, I’m not exactly getting any younger.”
