Page 14 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

“Don’t.” She points a manicured finger at me as she narrows her eyes. “We’re thankful, Dad. We’re healing together and”—she shrugs—“I think it was always supposed to work out like this. Besides, we had last Christmas together.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad.” Leaning forward, she rests her forearms on the table as she asks, “So are you planning this trip with Gwen or surprising her?”

“I was going to surprise her. She’s always wanted to go and—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Isla says with a cheeky grin.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t you think a woman like Gwen would want to help plan a trip like that? Her dream vacation? A long weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains is a great surprise getaway, but I think she’d appreciate having input.”

I ponder this for only long enough to make Isla arch a single brow. “I can see your point,” I concede.

“Folks are different down here, Dad. They want to be involved.”

“Folks, huh?”

“Just you wait, you’ll be y’all-ing like the rest of us soon enough.” Laughing, I take a sip of my drink and look at my daughter with her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

“You know, that doesn’t sound too bad.” I hold my glass out to hers, and she clinks it against mine.

“It’s the best.”

8

GWEN

Cullen knocks on the door and then waits for me to tell him to come in. The man has his quirks, and while I find most of them endearing, the fact that he has a key to my house but waits to enter is close to givin’ me an eye twitch.

“You look beautiful today,” he says as he places a small box on the island before kissing my cheek and then tilting my face toward his for a morethoroughgreeting.

“Thank you,” I say when he pulls back and smiles. We’ve been together for over a year now and I still feel my cheeks heat when he kisses me like that. A woman can be strong and independent and enjoy that life, but it’s nice to be worshipped for all those things and more too.

“Do you need any help?” Cullen asks as he looks down at my dough-covered hands.

“If you can just grab the pan from on the top of the stove, I’ll get these biscuits in the oven.” He does as I ask while I fold the dough once more before cutting out the biscuits with the cutter my grandma used.

Cullen wasn’t much of a cook when he landed in Clementine Creek, but he’s been learning and it makes me happier than an apple pie in a truck bed. Amused by the nonsensical phrase, I chuckle and then move to wash my hands while Cullen puts the tray in the oven and sets the timer.

After drying my hands, Cullen slides the box to me and waits with a nervous smile. “I got you something.”

“What kind of something?”

“Open it.” He nods toward the box in my hands and I pull the top off and smile at the ornament inside with a pohutukawa tree hand painted on it. The red flowers on it are my favorite, and my heart squeezes in my chest at the thoughtful gift.

“Thank you. This is beautiful; I can’t wait to hang it on our tree this year.” I say the last line testing out the waters. We’ve truly been taking things slow, and I don’t want to assume he plans on spending Christmas with me or that we’d decorate together.

“I was hoping that we’d be away for Christmas.”

“Where?”

He nods toward the ornament in my hand and I gasp. “You want to go to New Zealand for Christmas?”

“Christmas on the beach.”

My hand flies to my mouth and I blink back tears. “But the girls?”

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