I hit stop. And the message sends.
Liesel gives me a tight hug, and I breathe into her hair. “Thanks for helping me,” I whisper, “Girlfriend.”
“Thanks for letting me be a part of it. Boyfriend.” She moves her face so she can kiss my head, then my cheek, then my lips, and when we part, she smiles. “I’m proud of you.”
I breathe out heavily. “Can we watchElfnow?”
“Oh, sweet, sweet boy. The fifth movie just ended. They’ve turned on the sixth.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“But the first two are so good! Why would you even watch the others?”
“Tradition.”
“But my family has a tradition ofnotwatching dumb movies on Christmas Eve.”
“Embrace the Fischer way.” She stands up, and I follow suit, but instead of walking into the family room, I grab her, spin her around, and kiss her.
I kiss hergood.
Her mouth is warm and inviting, and while her body initially is stiff in surprise, she quickly folds her arms around me, andmy hands clutch her back. In the background, there’s a dinging sound, but my thoughts are too focused on Liesel for anything else. I love the way she tugs gently on my hair. It makes every kiss and movement electric. She turns her head and deepens the kiss, and I moan?—
“NO MOANING!”
We pull back and I’m almost dizzy with want. We’re still holding each other, but my eyes catch on Liesel’s stupid, interfering brothers looking at us with their arms out in a universal “What the heck?” stance.
They’d be intimidating if they weren’t wearing abominable snowman footie pajamas.
“Dude, just because we’re letting you live doesn’t mean you can make out with our sister,” Logan says.
“Not cool,” Lucas says.
The dinging is still going on, and her brothers pass us—both with a punch to my shoulder—and go around the kitchen to the oven, where they take the nuts and bolts out, turn off the timer, and let them sit on the stove top to cool.
When they come back around, Logan grabs me by the shoulders while Lucas grabs Liesel. “Back to the movies, guys,” Logan says.
I whimper.
“Can wepleasewatchElf?”
“Not a chance, Buddy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LIESEL
It’s Christmas morning. We moved Coop into the guest room last night, so I’m waking up in my childhood bedroom.
To Coop’s face.
A gasp escapes my lips, and then I clutch my chest, breathing hard.
The life-size cutout of Coop is right next to my bed.
My brothers kept it?
