Page 31 of The Marrying Kind
But nope. That wasn’t how it played out at all.
Instead, I was sitting in the living room of the Hart family home—after we destroyed a massive turkey with all the trimmings—in front of a sixteen-foot-tall Christmas tree, sipping cocoa spiked with RumChata and singing fricking Christmas carols.
The guys were good sports about it, but it was obvious this was Natalie’s doing. Logan blushed through the whole experience. Dottie stood and waved her arms like she was directing. Natalie had a beaming smile on her face. Noah and Rachel looked into each other’s eyes every few seconds and made dramatic faces. Jameson sat with his arms folded and scowled. And Austen concentrated on the sheet music as if he might somehow mess up “Frosty the Snowman.”
And the thing about it was ... I was grateful to be here. Anyone would have been thrilled for this to be their family. If I was ever going to meet a guy and get married, I’d hope he had a family like this one.
I’d been like the Hart boys in a way. While most of my friends couldn’t stand living at home, I’d loved it. My parents were my best friends, easygoing and not very bossy. I worked with my mom all day in the salon and was happy to still chat with her in front of the TV all night too. So, it was refreshing to meet a man like Austen who lived right next door to his mother and ate dinner there three nights a week.
After the carols, Natalie orchestrated a game of holiday-themed charades, and then some bingo that got shockingly lively, because the woman knew how to pick some damn good prizes. Not that anyone had a chance to win, because Dottie seemed to have the magic touch that night and scored every bingo prize that involved cash or lottery tickets. Logan won a ruby-colored lip gloss that he gave to Rachel, and Jameson won a cucumber face mask that he passed silently on to me. There were some complaints that the game and prizes were rigged, but the whole thing just made everyone laugh even harder.
“Time for presents!” Natalie announced then, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.
At that moment, I felt like an absolute intruder and debated my options.
Was there any polite excuse I could make for heading home at that very moment? It was going to be awkward to sit through opening presents, which felt like a private family moment for them.
I’d brought something for Natalie to thank her for being a great host—just a little something that I’d picked up a gift shop downtown. I hadn’t even wrapped it, and I’d already handed it to her when I arrived. A set of Turkish cotton dishtowels monogrammed with the letter H. She’d hugged me and set them on the kitchen counter.
Austen’s gaze connected with mine then, which made my belly heat, remembering what we had shared last night. While it was hotter than the sun, I was getting a little panicky about the whole thing, because there was a thought growing in the back of my brain like a parasite ... this stupid little hopeful idea that threatened my whole life plan. My crush was getting so damn big that all my other plans might be destroyed under the weight of it.
Not only was Austen sweet, smart, hard-working, and sexier than a shirtless fireman saving a kitten from a tree, he actually wasn’t afraid of commitment. Men like that didn’t come along often. It felt like I’d spotted a winning lottery ticket and decided to let it blow away on the breeze.
Which was how I knew I had to leave. Tomorrow.
Natalie was walking around with a stack of gifts in her arms, passing one to each person. “Now, everyone wait. We go one at a time,” she warned her family.
When she got to me, I tried to look fascinated with the bottom of my cocoa mug. To my shock, she set a small wrapped box into my lap.
“What’s this?” I asked, feeling my cheeks burn.
“Nothing. Just a little something.” She winked.
“You shouldn’t have. I didn’t think to get you anything.”
Natalie just waved me off. “This one is from Nana. And hush, I love those monogrammed dishtowels.” Then she took her seat back by the tree.
“Jameson, kick us off,” Nana said, watching intently as he tore through the package and pulled out a pair of blue knitted mittens and held them up for everyone to see. They were obviously homemade but the quality was impeccable—they were thick and warm looking.
He planted a kiss on his grandmother’s cheek, and then it was Logan’s turn. He also opened a box that contained knit mittens, this time in forest green.
Noah’s gift was gray mittens. Austen’s was black mittens. My package had pale pink mittens. Natalie’s were beige.
Everyone acted surprised, and it had become a running joke by then.
The last person up was Rachel, and she tore into her box saying, “I wonder what on earth this could be.” The smile on her face turned to a look of shock as she pulled out the world’s tiniest set of yellow mittens. Baby-size.
“Very subtle, Nana,” Austen said with a laugh.
Natalie high-fived her mother while Rachel and Noah smiled at each other.
This family had a clear mission to grow, and that was just one more reason why I needed to make sure that I carefully pruned these feelings.
Natalie passed around gifts she’d gotten everyone next, and mine was the most incredible-smelling bottle of perfume that was made locally. “Now you can bring a bit of Kodiak Canyon with you wherever you go,” she said.
“Thank you so much. I love it.” And I really did.
As the gift-opening frenzy died down, Austen carried over a box for me. Inside was a cozy sweatshirt with fuzzy embroidery on the chest that readKODIAK CANYON.
