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The seventh bell rang. Annie looked to Felix for help, and he pointed to something angled above them. There was the rogue dog, his head poking between two balusters of the grand staircase, holding what appeared to be a sprig of mistletoe.

“I hope he doesn’t eat that—isn’t it poisonous?” Annie asked. People around them were counting along now with the final five bells as they approached midnight. Annie was pretty confused as to why that was happening, considering that it was definitely more a New Year’s Eve than Christmas Eve activity, but she sensed that maybe this was it, maybe this was the end of their made-for-TV Christmas movie. So with that in mind and knowing she might only have seconds left, she put her arms on Nick’s shoulders and pulled him in. She paused briefly right before their lips met to try and double-check that her advance was wanted, but he quickly closed the distance. When their mouths touched ever so briefly, Annie caught fire. There was the sensation of heat, and time stopped. And then everything faded to black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Annie awoke and shot straight up in bed. At first, she didn’t know where she was. She reached for Nick but only ran her hand into Arthur, who swiped a clawed paw, hissed, and then bit her flesh.

“You little bitch!” Annie yelled, pulling back her hand, realizing the absence of warning sounds to her verbal transgression. “Bitch,” she whispered, looking around. “Bitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Oh my God, I can swear again!” Arthur let out a deep meow. “Shut the fuck up!” She giggled and clapped her hands. “Wait, what’s happening? I’m back?” Annie grabbed her phone and saw that it looked like it always had, and she had eleven missed messages from Marsha. “Was that all a dream?” Annie asked Arthur, who only blinked at her. Annie stood up to examine her surroundings. With a broad, theatrical voice, she cried, “Yes! The bedpost is my own. The bed is my own. The room is my own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before me is my own, to make amends in!” Annie stopped her Christmas Carol tribute, and her stomach twisted. No, it couldn’t all have been a dream, right? She’d had a very real experience with Nick. The idea that Nick hadn’t actually been beside her these last few days made Annie’s eyes sting with tears. She had to find him. Right now. Annie took a step to start her frantic run and immediately tripped on her pajamas and basically pantsed herself in the process. With her pajama bottoms now more off than on and tangled, she frantically removed them in a series of kicks and crawled her way out of the room to get downstairs.

“Nick, Nick!” Annie screamed before opening her front door. When she found herself outside, she yelped at the cold and let out a long string of profanity. Annie’s body, mostly her bare and pantsless legs, begged to go back inside. But then she saw Nick scooting in leopard slippers toward her around the weird, bloody barber chair and she quickened her pace to get to him. “Nick, that was real, right? You were there too?” Annie asked, her voice breaking in desperation.

“Where?” Nick asked, his face a cloud of confusion. Annie gulped in some cold air before burying her face in her hands and choking out a small sob. No, this wasn’t happening; this couldn’t have all been for nothing. It’s Christmas! “No, no, I’m kidding! Of course, I was there.” Annie looked at him critically. “Sorry! I’m nervous, and I don’t have ornaments to juggle. And I’m cold. But yes, Annie, we were in whatever that was together, and now we’re back home.” Nick reached out his arms and brought Annie closer. The touch was electric, and Annie caught her breath. She wanted to laugh, cry, and make out all at once. “You’re pantsless in the snow? This is feeling very Bridget Jones’s Diary and, not gonna lie, that is a big fantasy of mine …” Nick admitted, and Annie chose to laugh first.

“Remember where we left off?” Annie asked, now needing to make out with him immediately.

“You in that dress? The dog and the mistletoe? Those trucking, deafening chimes? Yeah, I’ll never forget that.” Nick said softly, staring at her mouth.

“Oh, we can say ‘fucking’ again,” Annie blurted out happily.

“I know, but to be honest, some of the alternatives may be worth keeping; like ‘spruce-bag’ is so much more fun—”

“Why aren’t you trying to jump my bones yet?” Annie demanded, cutting him off and pulling his face in, inviting his warm lips to cover hers. It was tentative at first, both of them testing the boundaries, adjusting to their non-G-rated current circumstances. But it wasn’t long until they revved it up.

Nick took Annie’s bottom lip between his teeth, and she let out a surprised gasp at the unexpected force. It was on the right side of painful pleasure, and his growing confidence in mastering this make-out was absolutely a turn-on. Annie wrapped her lips around Nick’s tongue, slowly sucking it into her warm mouth and using her lips to stroke it up and down.

Nick’s eyes flew open, and Annie knew he was imagining that technique across other areas of his body as she felt him go hard where his pajama pants met her belly. Annie flushed at the realization that she had caused that reaction and was also thrilled that she was unlikely to find a Ken doll situation. Annie fingered the waistband of Nick’s jammies, eager to remove them completely.

“Really hoping it’s not going to be censored this time,” Nick said, taking Annie’s hand between his and pulling the elastic so they could both get a peek.

Annie’s mouth involuntarily watered as she admired the sight. She stared back up at Nick’s face, his eyes hungry with pressing need. It was hot as hell. She fisted his T-shirt and backed his body up to the wooden chair behind them until he was sitting. Annie’s hand slapped the back and clamped the armrest, positioning her body so she could straddle Nick, desperate to feel him underneath her. Annie wrapped her arms around his neck, clawing at his back to remove any space between their bodies. She wanted him everywhere.

“Really glad I brought the chair out here,” Nick murmured into Annie’s hair before gripping her hips, inviting them closer.

Annie arched her back, grinding herself against him, already panting and ready to remove all their clothes but savoring the friction of the fabrics. Nick slipped a warm hand under Annie’s flannel, teasing her breast before cupping it and burying himself in her neck.

“Annie,” Nick breathed, clenching his teeth in an effort to control himself.

Before he could finish that sentiment or they could engage in some very not-made-for-TV Christmas movie shenanigans, a sudden blur of red caught their attention and they looked toward the street. Their garbage had been picked up, and the driver was peering out from behind the front seat.

“Stoned Santa,” Annie whispered. “I don’t know whether I want to scream at him or thank him.”

“Felix?” Nick called. Stoned Santa Felix took his hands off the wheel. One hand was holding a bell, and the other looked like it was working overtime, holding the bong and beer. Stoned Santa Felix was making his way back down the street in the garbage truck, but before he turned a corner, he waved and called out to them from the window.

“Merry Christmas!” his voice boomed, followed by a loud hacking cough.

“Merry Christmas!” Annie and Nick yelled in response.

“As much as I want to continue this, it’s freezing, and I’d rather not see people posting about it later on the town Facebook page,” Nick said.

“Oh, is this the part of the movie where we can talk about our kinks? Because I have a Santa voyeurism fantasy I should tell you about,” Annie teased. “Take me inside,” she ordered, her eyes flashing with heat. Nick gave her a grin and picked her up in a fireman’s carry.

She squealed in surprise as the cold temperature reminded her that she was indeed pantsless. “I feel like a Christmas tree,” Annie laughed, but when Nick quickly covered the distance to his front door in strong, confident strides it made her breathless.

In an impressive act of horny heroism, Nick managed to open the door, kick it closed, and continue carrying Annie all the way up the stairs to his bedroom, depositing her on the bed.

The room wasn’t the one where they had watched Meet Me in St. Louis, but it wasn’t actually as different as Annie had expected, the bedspread festively adorned. Nick ripped his T-shirt off, standing above Annie.

“Fuck,” Annie breathed. “You are hot as fuck,” she marveled, very much enjoying the view of Nick’s chest and well-defined biceps, reaching out to appreciate them. Nick was looking at her as though she were some sort of Greek statue, or like how she admired her first iced coffee in the morning.