Page 36 of Silent Night Sins
She only gave them what they wanted.
Mother Nature’s gift also meant that flights were a mess. Nicky’s sister had to leave and wasn’t coming back until later tomorrow, if the storm ravaging the East Coast relented enough to make even that possible.
Just my angel and me for Christmas. As it should be.
Hoisting my shovel and tossing a pile of frothy, white fluff, I watched the clumps of wet snow scatter through the air. The wind howled at my coat, pelting me with clusters of flakes. The front was already done, and with one more pass, the backyard had a clear path to the back gate.
For now.
This might be the last chance I had to convince my girl that I was worthy of her affection. That there was more to this thing between us than the wicked games we played.
I was scared shitless.
Tomorrow was Christmas, and the only gift I wanted was knowing that Nicky wanted to be my girl.
Not just the object of a dark fantasy.
I stomped my boots at the door before turning the knob and letting myself into the soothing, spicy warmth of the kitchen. Nicky looked up from the barstool where she perched.
“Done already?” A frown tugged at her mouth.
I tried not to take the scowl personally. It had been permanently etched on her face the last few days. Ever since her sister took a cab to the airport. I would have come sooner, would have made her forget that her family abandoned her for the holidays, but there were logistical nightmares that required my immediate attention. I had to content myself with watching her from a distance. Thank heavens I’d installed those cameras….
It wasn’t creepy. It was sweet. It showed how much I cared, studying her, knowing what she did, thought—felt. I knew it all.
“I’ll shovel the paths again in a couple of hours.” I dusted my gloves before pulling them off and shrugged out of my coat. I would bring in the gifts I’d wrapped and place them under the tree when she was asleep. It was a risk bringing the packages in now. The naughty thing might open them before morning. “If I stay on top of it, you’ll be the only house on the block with cleared access.”
With a sigh that pulled straight from her heart, Nicky spun around the stool to face me. “I’m sorry. I should have started with a ‘thank you’ for taking the time to do that.”
She’d watched me every so often, when I started with the front sidewalk forty-five minutes ago. But she hadn’t stopped to come out to me, which was good because she’d stayed warm this way. I slipped out of the winter boots, tucking them to the side of the mat where they could create a puddle.
“You’re welcome, angel.”I know you’re having a shitty holiday.“Now, let me make it better.”
Nicky shook her head. “No, just…wait.”
She hopped off the stool. Going to the stove, she grabbed a plate from the cabinet, piled something hot and savory onto the dish, and brought it to the end of the counter with a fork.
“When I saw you out there, I reheated this,” she explained. “It’s the least I could do. Sorry that it’s only leftovers.”
A shining warmth invaded my chest. It didn’t matter what was on the plate. This beautiful woman had taken the time to cook…for me.
“You can eat it in the dining room if you don’t want to take the—” she gestured at my face “—ski mask thingy completely off.”
“It’s called a balaclava,” I teased gently, closing the distance and reaching for her. Cazzo, she was warm. And soft. And curvy in all the right places.
Nicky huffed, clearly not amused. “Just eat while it’s hot, okay?”
I caught her chin, tipping it up, and leaned down so our faces were close together. “Thank you, angel.”
Those blue eyes widened. Heat and hunger swirled through them, but it was the deeper emotions, the ones she suppressed, that punched me straight in the chest.
“You’re welcome,” she breathed.
I booped my nose against hers before scooping up the plate and disappearing into the formal dining room. Not turning on the overhead chandelier, I took a seat at the shadowed table. Tapered candles glowed in the center, and I absently wondered if one of those plastic sticks was the one I’d used the first night. Probably not. That dirty memento probably lost its ability to serve in any decorating function. I kept the door cracked so I could watch her. She didn’t try to peek, didn’t seem interested in catching me without the mask. Bent over the cookies, she piped frosting onto them, used a tool to blend the colors, and concentrated on whatever beauty she was creating. Occasionally, she flicked at her phone, studying whatever was on the screen.
Gulping down bites of the spiced beef, scooping mashed potatoes, and ripping chunks of dinner roll with my teeth, it felt like a crime not to linger over the meal. Everything tasted amazing. But I was starved for something else. With the last piece of roll, I mopped up the remnants, making the plate seem clean.
Rising, I strode back into the kitchen. It was time for dessert. I took five seconds to rinse the plate and load it in the dishwasher.
