Page 45 of Winter Wishlist
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe she passed down.” He lifts a glass of whiskey to his lips.
Beside me, Reid sits down, and as I glance in his direction—maybe looking to him for salvation from this hideous-sounding pig trotter situation—I notice he has one palm over his mouth. Massive shoulders shaking. Creases at the corners of his eyes. His laugh escapes as he eases into the cushions, sounding a bit raspy. “You should see your face, sugar.”
That has me dropping my book into my lap, incredulous at their teasing. With an exaggerated pout, I flop my hands at my sides. “You’re mean. Not fair. Teaming up on me like that.”
Henri’s eyes sparkle at me. “The mean one was my grandmother. God, she was a miserable old trout. Bigoted ‘til her bitter end. I would never torture you, or anyone for that matter, with any recipe of hers.”
“My entire life just flashed before my eyes.”
“Cross my heart, I’m only joking. We’re having potato and herb gratin with four very fancy cheeses, and chicken pie, thanks to our cowboy. Then, chocolate torte for dessert.”
Is this real life?
“Sounds delicious. You should have let me help, though.” I pin him with a disapproving look.
“Maybe we just liked having you stare at us for a few hours, thinking you were being sneaky over here. Your eyes are not very well behaved,ma petite chérie.”
Okay, it’s confirmed. I will officially die of embarrassment here on this spot. RIP me.
“Other than ice skating and cooking, do you usually do anything special?” Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I ask. One part an attempt to deflect from being snapped checking them out, when IthoughtI was being subtle, one part wholly unsure whether I’m interrupting their usual plans.
Does Henri read me so easily? He shifts toward me, looming close. “We love to stay up all night on Christmas Eve…” One of those tattooed hands of his nudges my legs apart, spreading me in order to cup my pussy through my leggings. “And open our presents at midnight.” Resting a thumb on my clit, that aching bud throbs under his touch.
My mouth goes dry.
His touch is magic. Lingering there a moment longer, he gives me a little added pressure, then takes his hand away before shooting me a wink, leaving my body buzzing with anticipation.
“How about you?” Reclining against the cushions, Henri oozes the kind ofbad boy who knows how good he looks right nowconfidence that makes my heart flutter around giddily inside my chest. These men want more than just sex? They want to talk, hang out, and spend time together? “Do you have anything you’d usually do?”
It feels like running complex algebra to figure out where we were in the conversation a few seconds ago. Oh. Right.Holiday plans. I shake my head. “Nothing really. My friend Keri and her wife have a running joke now that they claim me as their honorary bonus lesbian lover each Christmas.” A wry laugh puffs past my lips. “That’s who was supposed to be here with me for the holidays.”
“Our lucky gain in that case,” Reid says.
“Do you usually do something with your brother?” I twist to look at him.
He volleys his head from side to side. “Well, I have two, for my sins. One here and one we only see rare sightings of when he’s not winning buckles for bull riding. Sometimes Boone and I will hang out, since he lives here, but only ever in a very casual way. We’ve never beenChristmaspeople. Most of the time, we end up working around the ranch, have a drink together, then call it a day.”
Henri clicks his tongue. “What he’s trying to say is that he and his brothers are the ultimate Grinches. If it were up to the three of them, there would be no Christmas decorations, carols would be banned from radio stations, and it would be just another day riding horses and feeding cattle.”
I can’t help but smile. “But the ranch looks gorgeous. The lights. The tree. The activities. It’s a whole thing.”
“That’s all Tanner’s doing. Or at least, not really hisdoing—buthe’s very good at organizing that kind of thing, for the guests’ sake. Every year, he brings in a fancy event planner type person who handles all the decorating of the place.”
Twisting my lips, I pry a little farther. “Are they…”
Henri sighs. “A couple? Let’s just say they’ve beenfriendsfor a long time.”
Reid shakes his head and pinches his brow. “Translation: my brother is an idiot.”
“One day,peut-être, they’ll figure their bullshit out.”
The fireplace pops and crackles, and Stella starts to twitch in her sleep, making adorable little high-pitched barking noises as she dreams of adventures. Maybe that’s what all this is, the most incredible adventure, a dream come true, that I still have another day left in before I wake up.
Reid chuckles and takes the opportunity to drag me onto his lap. I unashamedly snuggle into him. The dreamland version of Mia doesn’t want to wake up and regret missing a single second of his warmth and open affection.
After a few moments, I pluck up more courage—not to poke around in their lives, but to genuinely know more about them. “How did the two of you meet?”
Henri hums, drags a hand through his hair, making it all disheveled and even more gorgeous. “When I first retired, I wanted to go somewhere quiet. I was sick of the media and being a face easily recognized. I looked for somewhere to set up my workshop, and this is a village where tourists turn up all year. Also, the locals and businesses like to regularly commission pieces. It felt like the perfect place to put down roots.”
