“Technically, they’re identical twins and I’m a fraternal triplet.”
We sit at the foot of the stairs, and a moment later, my brothers lumber down the stairs, yawning. I rest my head on Coop’s shoulder.
“Does that mean I reallycancall them the Fischer Twins?”
“No,” I say immediately. “You can call them Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. Tweebs. Dorkwads. Twerps. Jagweeds—” Lucas flicks the back of my head.
“Don’t hit her!” Coop says, turning to slap Lucas’s hand.
“Kids, that’s enough,” Dad says from the top of the stairs. All four of us turn to see him wearing a Santa hat, red and white checked pajama pants, and no shirt, although he’s holding one in his hand. He’s all giant pecs and chiseled abs.
Coop gawks. “Cover those things up, bro. There are children present!”
He stuffs an arm into the hole of his white shirt and then the other as he walks down the stairs.
My dad is disgustingly ripped. Honestly, he’s pretty much ruined muscles for me. So while I appreciate that Coop is toned and athletic, it’s also kind of a snooze fest. His cocky smirk, on the other hand, makes me weak in the knees.
Not that he’s smirking now. He’s almost cowering as my dad pulls the shirt over his head on his descent. The four of us separate like Moses parting the Red Sea, and when Dad passes, Coop stares in awe.
“Your dad is terrifying.”
“I know.”
My brothers push past us next, and then Coop and I stand. “I’m taller, though.”
I give him a peck on his cheek. “And you should be very proud.”
We spend the morning opening presents, most of which are things like books, socks, See’s Candy, and special salts for smoking meat. Dad gets me a dainty gold satellite chain and smiles when I put it on.
“I thought it would look good with your mom’s earrings,” he says.
I jump up and hug him, careful not to disturb a sleeping Bear on his lap. “I love it. Thanks, Daddy.”
“Coop, sorry we didn’t have more for you,” Dad says, even though he most definitely took a couple of name tags off of my brothers’ gifts and gave them to Coop.
“Right, like that hoodie wasn’t meant for me?” Logan grumbles.
“You have plenty of hoodies,” Lucas says. “He got my Redmond Real Salts. How am I supposed to grill now?”
“Those were mine, too,” Logan says, pointing. “Yours are right there.”
“Score!” Lucas says.
“Sorry, boys,” Dad says with a chuckle.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Coop says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you guys anything. But, I do have something for Liese.” He pulls a gift bag from the bench where he was sitting this morning. I give him a quizzical look and pull out the gift wrap and then take out a Firebirds jersey. It has Coop’s name on it.
I snort. “Seriously?”
“What? You look hot with my name on your back.” My brothers, Dad, and I all groan. “Put it on.”
I’m wearing pajamas under my cat sweatshirt, so I peel off the sweatshirt and put on the jersey. It’s one of thereallynice ones that players wear, though this one’s too small for Coop. It’s roomy without being too baggy, and it maintains its structurewhen I tuck the front into my pajama bottoms. It will look amazing with some leggings or jeans, and the idea of Coop’s hungry eyes on me makes me flush. I hope my family thinks I’m just embarrassed. “There. Happy now?”
“Very,” he says suggestively. Then he rips the cat sweatshirt from my hands and throws it on. “No take backs! Merry Christmas!”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “I will pry that off your dead body.”
“I’m not dead.”
