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My dad’s texting is slower than a Galapagos tortoise, and the next message seems to take an eternity to arrive.

Your friend gonna be sticking around for a while? I promise not to cramp your style, but the two of you are welcome up here at the house for breakfast.

I know for a fact you ain’t got any real food down there.

Sure we won’t be cramping YOUR style?

Jesus. You know the answer to that.

“Merry Christmas, my sunshine boy.” Flinn’s morning voice is sexy as hell. Scratchy and deep, the best kind of present to wake up beside.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I ditch my phone and mentally apologize to my dad for abandoning our conversation. “Blame old man Rhodes for texting me at the crack of dawn.” I reach across to push his hair back off his forehead.

Did he hear what I said just before?

“No … but in all honesty, Lily’s purring is enough to wake the dead.”

“She loves to fire up all cylinders in the morning.” I have to bite back the grin rising to the surface when I think about how much effort Flinn went to in finding her and bringing her with him. “Merry Christmas, baby,” I whisper, heart pumping extra hard at the risk of saying those words out loud.

Flinn’s stubbled mouth tips up a little at the corners.

He’s still groggy with sleep when he leans over to place a soft kiss on my lips before tucking against my shoulder. Even though I can’t move, thanks to the feline weight bearing down on my chest, he hooks a leg over mine beneath the covers and keeps his arm over my stomach.

This is it. Right here is heaven.

Cute morning cuddles in bed with my dream guy. Christmas morning or not, this is exactly how I want to wake up every day.

With him.

Only him.

Flashes of us in the future, with sweet morning snuggles and Merry Christmas kisses, occupy my mind. Both of us with more smile lines, more gray hairs. Flinn will, of course, look even more dashing, with his blond beard disguising those traces of grays—he’ll absolutely age to become a silver fox—and I see us having coffee together on endless lazy Sunday mornings in a house of our own. Something like the place I grew up in, with a big wraparound wooden porch and a huge living area to fill with friends and laughter. Our kids. Our grandkids.

My heart skitters around inside my chest. Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

“What do you normally do? Any Rhodes family traditions I should mentally prepare myself for?” His question pulls me from our imaginary future scrapbook of playing happy families.

I chuckle, stroking his hair. “Nothing in particular. My dad is a certified grinch.” There’s just something about feeling his warm skin pressed against mine, the comfort of having him wrapped around me, this gentle giant filling the hole in not just my bed but my heart. “You? What does family Flinn partake in? Don’t tell me you’re a horde of Christmas carolers, because that might be where I draw the line.”

He turns into me, lightly biting my skin. “So cheeky. You would seriously kick me out over carols? What if I’m a perfect baritone?”

“One hundred percent. Apologies to that fine ass of yours, but I couldn’t live with the knowledge you might spontaneously erupt into festive singsong. Terrifying.”

Flinn huffs out a laugh, then yawns.

I gnaw on my bottom lip. A thousand questions pounding on the door to be set free.

“You’re not … you’re not going anywhere, are you?” I whisper.

His hold on me tightens. “Are you okay with me sticking around?”

Air rushes from my lungs with relief.

“More than okay.” Please stay. Forever. “I’ve gotta find a creative excuse for some jobs my dad wants a hand with today, mind you.”

Flinn squints at me. “C’mon, I wanna have the official Rhodes Ranch tour you so selfishly denied me anyway …” His lips quirk when I attempt to protest that it wasn’t my fault we spent the entire night fucking and cuddling and talking. “Let’s get dressed. Whatever it is, we can do it together.”

CHAPTER 25