Page 57 of Yule Know It When You See It
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll have to get this framed and hang it by my desk.” I wink at her, and she bounces, tormenting me with her bouncing breasts again before she gives me her back and scoots her ass as close as she can against my hips.
She’s staring at the tree now, her wandering eyes moving from the top branches and pausing in the middle, where she cocks her head to one side. “That Santa ornament.” She points. “His clothes and everything look a little different. Is that supposed to be a Father Christmas depiction or something? He’s not even wearing red.”
Leaning over her, I pluck the ornament off the tree and hold it in front of her, running my thumb over the carved wood—a man with long white hair and beard, sporting a blue-hooded cloak with white fur trim. “That’s because this isn’t Santa. It’s Odin.”
“Odin?” She traces a finger over the figure’s face.
“The story is that during this time of year, Odin would travel to earth on his, and I know this sounds weird, but, eight-legged horse—”
Theo grabs my arm and interrupts with, “Wait. Eight? Like how there’s eight reindeer?”
“Caught onto that, did you?” I chuckle and brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “Yes. But he would visit the people to check on how they were doing, remaining invisible to them, and leave bread for those that needed it.” Kissing her cheek, I wrap my arms around her tighter. “Children would leave their shoes by the hearth the night before the winter solstice with sugar and hay for Odin’s horse. And at those homes, he’d leave a toy or candy.”
Theo takes the ornament into her hand. “I’m so blown away by all of this.”
“And if you notice—” I point to the figure missing its left eye. “That’s how you can also tell it’s not Santa.”
“And does that have a story to accompany it, too?” Theo tilts her head back to look at me, her hand trailing down the length of my tattoo, starting at the shoulder. “And this?”
“There are many, many stories, Romance. And I’ll tell you any you want to hear.” I lightly bump her cheek with a knuckle.
Theo gasps and snaps her fingers. “Speaking of story. I think I just got an idea for the ending of the holiday hockey romance. Agrandgesture.”
“Grand gesture?” I ask, but she’s already catapulting to her feet after handing me the ornament and scurrying to her bag.
She returns with an iPad and flops to the floor atop the comforter, leaning her back on the couch. “Yes. In a lot of romance stories, it’s like this elaborate display of affection without using verbal communication.”
I shift positions so I’m leaning on an elbow beside her, watching her fingers fly over the touchscreen keyboard. “Gotcha. I assume the hero will be making said gesture?”
“Thehero.” She bumps her shoulder against mine, snorting. “You learn so fast. But no. In this one, I’m making the heroine do it.”
“You rebel, you.” Of their own volition, my fingers trace circles around her knee.
She pauses typing and gives me a warm, inviting smile. “I personally believe women shouldn’t expect dudes to go out of their way to show someone they love them all the time. Us gals must take the reins occasionally, too, you know?”
The skin below one of my eyes twitches. “Is this a loaded question?”
Fortunately, she does me the courtesy of not making me answer and giggles before tapping a finger against her lip. “Hm. Do I go with a scavenger hunt or a flash mob?”
I’ve lost count of the new words, concepts, and phrases I’ve learned since meeting Theodora Hackett. This adds to the ever-growing list.
“Flash mob?”
She drops her hand, the tablet falling with it, and she gasps. “You’ve never heard of a flash mob?”
Looking from the tree, to the fireplace, then back to her face, I shake my head.
“Oh, my—” She sits cross-legged and rests the tablet between us before securing her hair over her ears.
I’m in awe of how easily she has a normal conversation in the buff with me, and I’m not complaining about it one bit.
“So, it’s this choreographed number that’s either singing or dancing or both. Then you have everyone dress normal, blend in with the crowd, plan it for somewhere you know they’ll be, and then suddenly they break into this routine around said person.” She does jazz hands, palms facing me, and shaking them. “Neat, huh?”
“Sounds—” I scratch the back of my head, careful to tread lightly on my next words. “—elaborate?”
“Most grand gestures are. They don’t have to be, but,” The iPad is back in her grasp. “Think I should go with the scavenger hunt?”
“I think it would make it more personable. It could be a roadmap of key milestones throughout their relationship.” I gaze at the windows, eyeing the dark skies and dim stars—so much light in the city. Norway’s skies have so many stars in unending patches it looks like the gathering of freckles on Theo’s shoulders.
