I spear the runaway waffle and pop it into my mouth. But when I go to cut a second bite, I drop the knife and it bumps against the table, then clatters onto the floor.
I close my eyes as Noah starts to chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I say as I lift my hands to cover my face, but I can’t blame him. I’m laughing at myself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He stands and reaches for my knife, his free hand grazing across my shoulders as he moves into the kitchen and drops the offending utensil into the sink. He grabs a clean one from the drawer and slides it across the counter to me before returning to his seat.
“Thank you.” I take the knife and set it next to my plate. “I think I’m just nervous.”
“Why?” he asks, and I look over at him. His expression is open and warm, making it easy to respond.
“Because I like you so much.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment. “You shouldn’t be nervous.”
“No? Why not?”
He grins, then leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to my lips. He tastes like coffee and maple syrup. “Because I like you so much,” he says.
The kiss goes a long way to ease my nerves, and I manage to make it through the rest of breakfast without dropping anything else. By the time we’re done doing the dishes, I’m feeling pretty good.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.
For now, I’m just going to enjoy the holiday. EnjoyNoah.
And wedoenjoy it.
Well, first we both have to do a little bit of work. While he plows the main farm road—a tractor with a snowplowattachment makes it relatively easy work—I read through Olivia’s final checklist of Peterson family reunion preparations.
After I call the Petersons to make sure the weather hasn’t disrupted their plans, I check in with the catering staff and give them a final headcount. Then I rearrange the tables in the dining room and put together Christmas centerpieces for each one.
Since several of the Peterson grandchildren are bringing significant others to the reunion, the Peterson grandmother has made a particular request that mistletoe hang from every door frame. There’s a big box of fake mistletoe in the storage closet, so I tie together several bunches, then scoot a chair into the closest doorway.
With the largest bunch in one hand and a thumbtack in the other, I climb onto the chair and reach up, hesitating when a dull ache radiates through my shoulder. I drop my arms again—Noah will have to do this for me—but then the front door opens, and the man himself steps inside.
His eyes widen when he sees me on the chair. “Seriously?” he says as he strides toward me.
“What?” I say. “I need to hang the mistletoe.”
“Youneedto stay on the ground where you can’t hurt yourself again.” He moves his hands to my waist and gently lifts me, lowering me down. I don’t mind that even when I’m safely on the floor, he keeps his hands on me, his fingers encircling my waist.
“You’re right,” I say. “I realized as much when I tried to reach over my head.” I lift the mistletoe. “Hang it for me?”
He leans down and kisses me. “You shouldn’t be lifting your arms, but I’m more concerned you were standing on a chair. With the tenderness in your shoulder, you’re more susceptible to repeat injury.” He gives my hips a little squeeze. “Please. Stay on the ground for me.”
His concern is both endearing and adorable.
“Fine,” I say. “But that means you can’t leave again. I have six of these I need to hang up.”
He tugs me closer, one hand wrapping around my back while the other takes the mistletoe out of my hand. “Does that mean I get to kiss you under all six?”
I grin. “You don’t need mistletoe to kiss me.”
“Good thing,” he says. Then his mouth takes mine one more time.
Late the following afternoon,the Petersons arrive at Stonebrook in a caravan of minivans and SUVs. Catering staff have been in and out all day, hauling food from the catering kitchen down by the restaurant up to the farmhouse. The food smells delicious, Christmas carols are playing through the house, and I’ve got to say, the decorations really do look on point.
Several of the Petersons mention the gorgeous Christmas tree as they walk into the main room, and I make a mental note to relay their praise to Noah.
