Page 62 of Mistletoe Latte

“It was five. Now stand next to the fireplace.”

Abby carefully sidled near the brick while Skylar threw her entire arm across the mantle and leaned in. Before she fell into the flames, Nick pressed the button and his niece was off. “Okay, we’re leaving now,” she declared after snatching up her coat. She tugged on her friend’s arm and the two of them ran for the front door.

“What else?” Nick asked.

“Uh…bye?”

“There will be no drinking. There will be no leaving the dance until it’s over. Then you will text me.”

“God, you’re so embarrassing. Fine, yes, all of that.”

“Sky?” He caught her flustered face quickly tipping into teenage anger. “Have fun.” Her response was to grumble and run out into the cold for the Wilkins’ SUV.

Mrs. Wilkins took a little longer to gather her coat. “It’s going to be a long night,” she said. “Any chance I could tempt you to join me for…?”

“The ravioli are ready to pop!” Emma called. She emerged from the kitchen with the pot in her hands.

Nick felt the same expectant energy his niece had as he stared at not only the pasta but the woman holding them. “Thank god, I could eat a horse. “ He started to follow her when a cold draft caught through the living room, and he glanced to the open front door. “Uh, rain check.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Nick,” Abby’s mom said just as the horn blared. Sky was impatient as hell to get to that dance.

Laughing, he joined Emma in the kitchen to find her pouring a buttery cream sauce on the ravioli she’d also finished. “You are amazing.”

“It’s nothing special.”

She held out a plate, but Nick filled his arms with her. “You took a door-slamming, wall-kicking teenager to bubbly and excited in two minutes. Then you made this fancy dinner with barely any help. How?”

With a shy giggle, Emma bit her lip. Nick’s hands slipped off her waist to wrap around her hips. In a low, husky voice, Emma asked, “I thought you said you were hungry?”

He swept his palm farther, rounding over her ass. When he clenched where he’d spanked her earlier, Emma gasped. Their dinner could wait in the oven. Nick curled under her ass and started to lift her up when his stomach growled loud enough to shake the copper cow mold on the wall.

“Seems I am,” he had to admit, done in by his body. He took both plates and laid them on the table where they settled in for dinner.

The ravioli was better than anything he could have come up with, especially the butter sauce. They talked about nothing in particular, but he hadn’t laughed so hard in his life. Her quiet demeanor did him in. Every time Emma set up a joke, he wouldn’t see the punchline coming. He’d swear he could sit on that hard, wooden chair for hours on end just listening to her talk.

Emma reached for the empty plates the same moment he did, their hands bouncing off each other. That innocent touch charged through Nick, making him feel all of fourteen himself and working up the courage to sit near the girl he liked. Maybe she felt the same, her cheeks burning as she dropped her gaze.

Standing up, Nick reached for her. “Why don’t we—”

His offer to leave the dishes for later and take advantage of the fire was thwarted by his phone. It buzzed across the table, hellbent on smacking into a glass. When Nick looked at the notification, he tried to fight off a groan—Pete.

“I’ve got to…”

“I’ll wash these up.”

“No, leave them to soak,” he said while placing his phone to his ear. Nick walked to the living room, turning in a circle to catch a glimpse of Emma. “I can do it…Hey.”

“What are you doing, little brother?”

“You called me.”

“Right. Just wondering why you sent me these pictures. House looks good.”

Jesus, did he even open them or only look at the thumbnail? “It’s Skylar in her dress for her winter dance thing. I thought you’d want to see.” Being her father and all.

“Oh…? Oh. Wow.” His excitement dropped and melancholy slipped in. “I didn’t even recognize her. She looks so grown up.”

Probably because she had grown without him seeing her more than twice since he’d left.

---