Page 24 of Naughty-ish

“I’m keeping all the gifts in my bedroom, so I’ll take it upstairs when I head to bed.”

Our eyes meet again, and his spark as they often do. His gaze roams my body, taking in my leggings and loose-fitting sweatshirt. Somehow, I feel undressed. I wish he was heading to bed with me.

“What’s in the second bag?” I ask as a distraction technique, while I use a wine opener and struggle to uncork the bottle.

Nick takes the bottle and corkscrew out of my hand, finishing the job.

“Something for you.” He pours us each a glass of wine and hands one to me. “Also, something you should take to your bedroom. And open when you’re alone.”

That certainly sounds mysterious while sexy as hell and I cross my legs as I lean against my kitchen counter, hoping to quell the sudden drumming between my thighs. Nick leans his side into a cabinet as well, remaining close to me. My dark kitchen is illuminated by the soft glow of a ceramic Christmas tree with miniature lights in the center of the table.

“Sounds . . . scandalous,” I tease.

Nick taps the edge of my glass with his and raises it. “It doesn’t have to be.” Watching me, he lifts his glass to his lips and then drinks. I stare at his Adam’s apple, rolling along his throat. The silver and black of his beard dances along his neck as he swallows.

“What are we drinking to?” I ask as I bring my glass to my lips.

“A happy Holliday.” My name shouldn’t sound so seductive. Like he’s savoring the sound of it rolling over his tongue.

As I swallow a sip of wine too quickly, I almost choke.

With his glass in hand, Nick aims it at my refrigerator. “You hung up your list.”

“I did.” After we shared a hot drink the day I attempted shopping, I came home and cleaned out my purse. Then I hung the list on my fridge as a reminder to do better and figure out ways to complete all the things.

Once another sip of wine coats my throat, I suggest, “Should we head to the living room?”

Nick steps back and waves for me to lead the way. We stand before my tree again, silently admiring the softness of little lights and the glint of metal ornaments and bulbous decorations.

“You already have a present underneath your tree?” His question has me glancing down at the tree skirt where a box wrapped in white and secured with a bright red bow rests beneath the lowest branches.

“What the—?”

“Has your name on it,” Nick knowingly states as I lower and read my name, written almost as if with a shaky hand. Strangely, the handwriting looks like the left-handed scribble I use to answer Eloise’s elf letters.

Nick lowers his hand to take my glass of wine from me.

“What did you do?” I whisper, retrieving the package and lifting it as I stand.

“Wasn’t me,” he playfully defends. “Must have been your elf.”

I glance up at the doll dressed in red seated on top of the television cabinet, prepared to surprise Eloise and Nash with his new viewing position when they wake tomorrow morning. The silly thing couldn’t possibly bring me a gift, and I skeptically glance back at Nick.

“Probably best if you open that in your bedroom, like I said. Alone. Later maybe.” Nick nods toward the staircase. “It’s NSFE.”

“NSFE?”

“Not safe for elves.”

I laugh. The large rectangle is heavy, and I shake the package.

“Oh God, you’re not one of those, are you?” Nick chuckles.

“One of what?”

“A shaker. A person who shakes her gift in an attempt to guess what it is before opening the present.”

I roll my lips, fighting a smile. “Guilty, I guess.” I’m actually pretty good at the shaking thing, but that’s from years of buying my own gifts, wrapping them up, and pretending they came from Mitch. I’d fool the kids into believing I guessed at my false surprise present.