Page 47 of Savoring Christmas
“Let’s take our tree home,” Mia said, eyes shining. “Cannoli wants in on the action.”
Logan opened the passenger door for her, heart so full he could hardly speak. How could finding a Christmas tree together make him this happy? He’d teased his brothers over the years, as he watched each of them fall madly in love, not really understanding how grown men could act so moony and love struck. Now that it was happening to him, he understood perfectly.
The scentof pine filled the living room as Logan finished stringing the lights and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The Fraser fir stood tall and proud in front of the big window, its branches covered in white lights.
Cannoli sat back on her haunches, staring at the lights suspiciously.
Logan picked her up and held her against his chest. “It’s all fine, little girl. Just a few lights.”
Cannoli whimpered.
“So pretty.” Mia hugged herself as she looked at the tree.
“I’ve never seen a better one.” Every tree he’d picked with his family growing up had been just fine. This one was different. Because she’d picked it. Because it was theirs.
He set Cannoli down on the blanket near the hearth and flipped on the gas fireplace. “Let’s open some wine and decorate, shall we?”
“I’m in.”
When he returned with glasses of red, Mia was already unwrapping the ornaments they’d bought at the farm and laying them gently on the coffee table. Logan sat beside her, passing her one of the glasses. “Let’s toast to our first tree.”
Mia clinked hers gently against his. “To our tree.”
They worked side by side, looping twine through the ornaments and stepping back every so often to assess their spacing. The fire cast a soft orange glow. Outside, snow had begun to fall. Cannoli dozed on her blanket, apparently no longer afraid of the twinkling tree.
A few minutes later, a flash of movement caught Mia’s eye. Matilda the cat had entered the room with all the stealth of ajungle predator, her green eyes fixed on the lower branches. She crouched, tail flicking, every muscle coiled.
“Oh no,” Mia whispered. “She’s in hunting mode.”
Before Logan could react, Matilda sprang, batting a silver bell ornament clean off its hook. It hit the rug with a muted thud and rolled straight toward Cannoli. The dog woke instantly, pouncing on it like a goalie, then let out a triumphant bark.
Not to be outdone, Matilda swatted another ornament—a quilted gingerbread man Mia had just hung low on a branch—and this time Cannoli snatched it mid-roll.
“No no no no—” Mia lunged, but Cannoli was already darting across the room with the gingerbread man clamped in her mouth, Matilda trotting smugly behind her as if they were partners in crime.
“Guess that one’s hers now,” Logan said.
“Absolutely not.” Mia was already in pursuit, laughing. “Cannoli, drop it. And you—” she pointed at Matilda “—are pure evil.”
Matilda only blinked, then leapt onto the back of the couch to watch the chase with regal satisfaction.
The dog did not drop the ornament. She bounded onto the cushions, did a wild circle, then flopped down with a triumphant little huff, her furry accomplice watching like a queen surveying her kingdom.
“I think they might get along after all,” Logan said. “Partners in crime.”
Logan leaned in to kiss Mia, slow and lingering, the tree lights blinking behind them, snow falling outside the windows, and one mischievous dog and one plotting cat turning their first Christmas tree into a war zone. And he thought there could not be a more beautiful moment in all the world than the one in which he found himself now.
“You make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world,” Logan said, kissing her neck.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You kind of are.”
He chuckled. “No disagreement here.”
They spent the rest of the evening finishing the tree, curling up beneath a blanket on the couch, and watching White Christmas while Cannoli slept next to them with the stolen ornament between her paws—and Matilda lounged on the mantel, tail twitching, clearly plotting her next attack.
10
MIA
