Page 90 of Run the Play
“How about we do it now?”
I stop what I’m doing and turn to glance at him over my shoulder. “Now? It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Let’s make it our tradition,” he suggests. “We’ll put the kids to bed, and then we'll give each other gifts.” At my raised brows,he laughs. “Not that kind of gift, dirty girl, but we can definitely add that to the Christmas Eve tradition.” He winks.
“But then we won’t have anything to open on Christmas morning.”
“Hmm, okay, compromise. We give each other one gift on Christmas Eve, just the two of us, and then we add in your dirty-girl suggestion before going to bed.”
After placing the final cookie on the cookie sheet, I wipe my hands and turn in his arms to peck a kiss to his lips. “Deal. Now, I need to finish baking.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Do you want to decorate?”
“Sure, but fair warning. I can’t be in here, decorating these cookies as good as they smell and not sample them.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Reynolds, but I accept your terms.” I kiss him one more time before pushing at his chest. He backs away and allows me to grab the final baking sheet and place it into the oven.
“We need some tunes,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He connects it to the Bluetooth speaker system in the house, and I’m pleasantly surprised when he chooses Christmas music. “Happy wife, happy life.” He grins.
“Not your wife yet.”
“Bite your tongue, young lady. Those are bad words. Bad,badwords, Roe.” He tries to give me a stern look as he shakes his index finger at me.
I blow him a kiss. “Love you, number one.”
His eyes soften, and the mock scowl disappears. “I love you too, baby.”
We get to work decorating all the cookies, and two hours later, we’re exhausted and high on sugar because my future husband was oh so right. It was impossible not to sample the goods.
“Is it present time?” he asks as we walk hand in hand to the living room.
“Let’s do it,” I tell him.
“I go first,” he says. He heads over to the tree in the living room, where all our gifts for each other are. He grabs a long, slender box and practically skips back to the couch to take a seat next to me. “Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he says, placing the box on my lap.
Lifting the box, I shake it, trying to guess what’s inside. “I’ve got nothing,” I tell Landry, and he laughs. “It’s so light.”
“You’re going to have to open it and find out, baby.” He grins.
“Wait.” Putting the box next to me on the couch, I stand and go to the tree, grabbing the gift I want him to open. Rushing back to the couch, I dive for a cushion, making him bounce with a laugh as I hand it to him. “This is yours,” I say, leaning over and kissing his cheek.
“You first,” he tells me. “I’ve been waiting for this for ages.”
“Ages, huh?”
“Just open it.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“Before I do, I want to say thank you. You’ve held me up and loved me through so much this year. Thank you for this life we’re building together. You’re my hero, Landry Reynolds.”
He leans in close, his lips hovering over mine. “Not your hero, baby. Just yours,” he mumbles against my lips. When he pulls back, he nods at the gift in my hand. “Open.”
I wiggle in my seat as I slowly tear back the paper. “Did you wrap this? It’s so pretty.”
“I did,” he tells me. “It only took me three times.” He holds up his hands, which are giant compared to mine. “These hands do better catching footballs than wrapping presents.”
“You did perfectly,” I say, as the last shred of wrapping paper falls to the floor. It’s a white gift box, the kind you’d get for a shirt, but it’s so light it doesn’t feel like a shirt is inside. Peelingback the tape on the sides, I pull the lid off the box and dig through the tissue paper to find an envelope. I hold it up. “What is this?” I ask, my brows furrowed.
