Page 109 of Stay this Christmas
“Come on in, we’ll get these set up and introduce you to everyone.”
I took two of the remaining plastic bins from Callie and ushered her into the house. We trailed behind Jed to the table, where he laid out the goodies she’d brought. He might think her generosity over the top, but as soon I opened the containers, I knew I’d have to hoard some of her cookies for myself, they smelled so good.
Maybe even better than baby.
“Miss Callie?” a little voice called. “What are you doing here?”
“Dylan?” Callie leaned down, hands on her knees, to greet Wade’s oldest son. “I didn’t know this was your family.”
He looked a mix of confused and horrified. “Who’s at school watching the Kindergarten room?”
“It’s okay, little buddy,” Wade said, scooping him up. “Your teacher’s allowed to leave the school.”
I introduced Callie around the room, but when I got to Mom, she took over, sweeping her up like a mother hen. I’d mentioned I’d invited her since she didn’t have anybody else but her grandma to celebrate with, keeping what I knew of her losses to myself. But even that much had sent Mom into a frenzy, ready to love on our newcomer before she’d ever met her. And now that she had, Mom might as well have another daughter in the mix.
For her part, Callie didn’t seem to mind being thrown into a huge family gathering. She looked right at home, chatting with Marilyn and June, and cooing over the baby.
Sam slipped a hand around my waist. “Looks like you checked everything off your list.”
“Yours, too.”
“When do we get to exchange presents?”
Looking around at everyone spilling through my parents’ house, I didn’t really want to share our gifts with so many eager eyes on us. “Let’s go to the porch for a few minutes.”
We grabbed boxes from beneath the tree and slipped out the front door to sit on the old porch bench. The afternoon was crisp and cool, with the warm smell of wood smoke on the air. A little chilly for the thin sweater I wore, but we wouldn’t stay out here long. Probably.
I passed him his present. He shook it like a little boy, listening to the clinking sound inside. “Mysterious.”
Tearing open the red and white snowflake paper, he eased the lid off the box, revealing a set of six metal loops. “Aw, carabiners. Thanks, Harps. They’ll come in handy.”
“They’re a reminder,” I said, feeling weirdly shy. “I won’t let you go.”
His sweet smile disappeared, his eyes full of so much tenderness, my heart ached.
“I’ll never let you go again,” he whispered right before his mouth met mine. His kiss practically crackled with electricity, making me ready to forget the Christmas celebration inside and find someplace private.
Around here, that meant my dad’s barn, and I didn’t really feel like getting covered in hay.
Breaking the kiss, Sam presented me with a box he’d wrapped in cartoony Santa paper. I shook it, but nothing happened. I tore off the wrapping paper, but the thin red box inside gave me no clue. Undoing the flap, I eased a Styrofoam container free.
“Just be more careful with this one, okay, Harps?”
My heart ratcheted up like a little jackhammer, a lump already stuck in my throat. Carefully lifting half of the Styrofoam packaging, I found a perfect snow globe holding a snowboarding Sasquatch Santa. Couldn’t look at him long before he went all blurry, the tears in my eyes ruining the moment.
“Where did you find this?”
“I had to do some calling around. This guy was in Astoria, Oregon, if you can believe it.”
“I love it.” Pulling the globe free, I turned it upside down to watch the snow swirl inside before clutching it to my chest. “Thank you. He’s going to sit on my mantel all year long.”
Sam’s pleasure shone out in all its dimply glory. “This is a bad start. I’ll never top this Christmas gift.”
“Hmm. Maybe another stay in the Hideaway?”
“Oh, Harps, you have the most fantastic ideas,” he purred in my ear.
He kissed my face, his mouth trailing along my jaw before finally capturing my mouth. His languid kiss turned me inside out until I had to clutch at his shirt just to steady myself. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead on mine, his breathing shallow. “Merry Christmas, Harper.”
