Page 37 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

“It’s your last night with your daughter, and you went to a craft store?”

“She’s stuck alone in a dorm for the next few weeks. Trust me, she was thrilled to buy some art supplies.”

“Really?” She sounded wary. “What did she get?”

“You don’t believe me?” He chuckled. “Fine. She got yarn, a sketchpad, charcoal, and some watercolors.”

“Unbelievable.” She ran her finger over the sparkly letter M he’d glued to the center of a wood round.

For some of the others, he’d bought Christmas cards from the sale rack, cut out a circle smaller than the wood, and used decoupage glue to plaster it on. He’d dipped the edges in gold glitter.

He’d only meant to make a few, but if he was going to give her a tree, it couldn’t be sad and barren, so he’d wound up making a total of twenty ornaments.

She pulled the last gift from the bag. For the tree topper, he’d glued twigs in the shape of a star.

“I can’t believe you did all this for me.” Her cheeks went pink, and her eyes clouded with emotion.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is. Are you kidding? It’s incredibly kind and generous. And thoughtful. It’s your last night in town, and I just can’t believe you did this.” She got up and stood before him. “Thank you, Beau. I wish…” She shook her head. “Never mind. Do you need to go now, or do you have time to decorate the tree with me?”

“I’d stay up all night just to have every last minute with you.” The words hung in the air like water vapor.

He wanted a cataclysmic event to crack open the earth right then and swallow him whole.

It was one thing to be preoccupied with her, but now he had no control over what came winging out of his mouth?

“Beau.” No one had ever used that soft tone when saying his name. It was filled with a yearning that made his bones soften and yield.

And somehow, that soothed him. Her happiness made all the chaos in his body worthwhile.

“I love that you made all this for me. By far, it’s the best gift I’ve ever received in my life.” Her dreamy expression turned resolute. “But we can’t trim the tree without hot cocoa and cookies.” She reached for his hand. “Come on.” At the door, she stopped abruptly. “Oh, my God.” She burst out laughing. “I was about to go out there in my robe and bare feet. Like I think I’m at home or something. Hang on. Let me put on some pants.”

As she slipped past him, he wanted to reach for her. One flick of his finger and that robe would drop to a puddle of silk at her feet. She’d be naked, her breasts high and full, her nipples tight from the slight chill. Her hourglass figure would be on display, the dip of her waist and flare of her hips.

He would kiss her with reverence, like the stunning goddess she was, and then he’d stroke, lick, and fuck her with abandon, just how the woman she was needed.

But he didn’t do any of that. He watched her grab some clothes and dip into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar so she could continue to talk to him. “I can’t tell whether you’re just naturally talented or you did enough projects with your kids that you’re familiar with a glue gun. How did you do the ones with patterns?”

“Those are Christmas cards. I used decoupage glue to adhere them.”

“What a brilliant idea. Can I steal that one? They’re really elegant.” She came out in pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, her feet tucked into shearling slippers. “All righty. Let’s go.”

Even this late at night, people sat in quiet groups in the lobby, and carols still played on the speakers. The only thing new were the presents stacked beneath the tree.

He followed her through the kitchen door, and she flicked a switch that turned on the under-counter lights. “Can you grab a pot and a whisk, please? I’ll get the milk and cocoa.”

“Homemade? I’m used to the little packets.”

“Oh, for sure. It’s the only way.”

He didn’t know where anything was in this enormous industrial kitchen—she’d already set out the ingredients when they’d made cookies—but they couldn’t be too hard to find.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said. By far, it’s the best gift I’ve ever received in my life.

This woman had married, had two children, and those ornaments a kid could make were the best gift?

He already knew the kind of man her ex was—but what about the kids? Did they keep in touch with her? Did her daughter know how hard it was for Margot to be so far away while she planned a wedding? He had the sense she didn’t include her mom the way Margot needed.

---