Page 24 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“Thank you, Ruby,” I said sincerely.
She grinned and tipped back the rest of her grape juice in one giant gulp, leaving a perfect purple mustache on her upper lip.
“Princess,” I teased, tapping my own upper lip. “You seem to have made a bit of a mess.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh!” Then, instead of reaching for the napkin right next to her plate, she grabbed the hem of her dress and wiped her mouth clean.
We locked eyes, both frozen for a split second before bursting into laughter.
That was when the front door swung open.
“What did I just walk in on?” Annie’s voice carried into the living room, warm and amused. She stood in the doorway, snow dusting her hair and scarf, a smile stretching from ear to ear.
Ruby and I didn’t answer her right away—we just looked at each other, sharing a silent, conspiratorial grin.
“Doesn’t Brooks look dashing in his dress?” Ruby finally said.
I pushed back from the tiny tea table and stood, spreading my arms wide before giving Annie a slow spin to show off the pink tutu that had been cutting off my circulation for the past half hour.
Her laughter came in a sudden burst—real, unguarded, and so bright it almost knocked me over more than the sight of her did. She doubled over, clutching her side.
I put a hand to my chest, feigning offense. “Is your mom laughing at my dress, Princess Ruby?”
Ruby gasped in mock horror. “I think she is!”
“Well,” I said, scooping her up into my arms, “I think that calls for revenge.”
Ruby’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yes!”
Annie backed up slowly, her hands raised in surrender, until she hit the wall. “Wait, wait, I take back the laughter?—”
Too late.
We closed in on her, Ruby’s little fingers wiggling in front of her like a cartoon villain ready to strike. I leaned in, bracing Annie in place, and Ruby launched her tickle attack. Annie squirmed, laughing even though Ruby’s tickling skills were more enthusiastic than effective.
“All right, all right!” Annie laughed, her cheeks pink from the cold and the moment.
In the middle of the chaos, she caught my gaze over Ruby’s shoulder. The laughter was still in her eyes, but so was something else—something softer, warmer.
She winked.
I couldn’t stop the slow grin that spread across my face as I winked back.
There I was, standing in a ridiculous tutu, with a kid who was starting to make me wish for a family of my own and a woman whose smile I’d already started memorizing. It had only beentwo days, and yet I couldn’t help but think that this was going to be the best holiday yet.
Annie
Letting out a long, weary exhale, I plopped onto the couch, cradling my mug of warm apple cider between my palms. Brooks had spiked it with something strong and smooth—probably whiskey—and the cinnamon-scented steam curled upward, wrapping around me like a blanket. The warmth seeped through my hands, chasing away the chill I hadn’t realized was clinging to me.
It had been one of those endless days. I’d stumbled home after a full shift, only to disappear into my office the second I walked through the door. Administrative work had piled high on my desk, the kind of tedious reports and vendor lists that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. By the time I finally emerged, Ruby was already tucked into bed, fast asleep, her soft breathing drifting faintly down the hall.
And then—like something out of a Hallmark movie I’d never admit to watching—I found a plate waiting for me in the microwave. A full, hot meal. A note stuck to the side in Brooks’ blocky handwriting:Eat it while it’s warm, Boss.
The man practically hovered as I sat down at the table, watching every bite with his head tilted, dark hair still damp from his shower. He’d been so smug, insisting it was the bestmeal he’d ever cooked, and I’d teased him for it. But, God help me, he hadn’t been wrong. The chicken was seasoned perfectly, the vegetables roasted until sweet and tender, the potatoes dusted with dill in a way that nearly knocked me off my chair.
I wanted to kiss the chef.
But I didn’t.
