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I was positive they wouldn’t. “Please, Patrick, don’t let Nina take anything else from us. I love this time of year, and deep down I know you do too.”
“You don’t know what the last several Christmases”—the word came out strangled—“have been like.”
“Bridgette told me a little bit.”
His gorgeous aqua eyes lit up. “Really? I’m in awe of you. She hardly opens up to me.”
“I didn’t do anything special. I think she just needed to get it out of her system.”
“Isabelle, please don’t discount what you did today.”
“I find myself wanting to do anything to make her and Rory happy,” I admitted. As crazy as it sounded, I felt a connection to his children. “Including making this the best Christmas they have ever had.”
Patrick leaned his forehead against mine, sighing loudly. “What you’re asking is difficult.”
“The hard is what makes it great, right?” Definitely got that fromReader’s Digest.
“I know all aboutthe hard.”
“Then let me show you and your childrenthe great.”
“There are some things I would like you to show me,” he said with enough seduction I almost melted into a puddle of goo on the counter.
“Is that so?”
“Did I mention my new house has a hot tub?” He trailed kisses down my nose and then my cheek, working his way over to my ear.
“You left that tidbit out,” I stuttered, just thinking about all the possibilities.
“It would be a shame to miss out on that Christmas tradition.” He nibbled on my ear.
“I would agree,” I barely managed to get out. His touch was lighting me up like Rockefeller Center at Christmastime. “Does this mean I should bring the tree back to your suite?”
“Do I get to unwrap you underneath it on Christmas morning?”
“I mean, I would be amenable to that if you stay on Santa’s nice list.”
“The thoughts I’m having are sure to put me in the naughty category.”
“You know, that could work too,” I said, well above my normal pitch.
Patrick gave me an adoring look, knowing he was driving me wild in the best way possible. “Then I shall do my very best to get coal in my stocking.”
Oh my. Merry Christmas to me.
“SO, STEPMOMMY DEAREST.” RORY POPPEDhis head between us on the drive over to the skating rink. “Now that we’re celebrating Christmas, should I send my list to you by text, email, or Snapchat? Wait, do you know what Snapchat is?”
“I am aware. Thank you.” I smiled.
“Rory.” Patrick shook his head. “This is not why we are celebrating the season.”
“Oh, come on, old man.” Rory patted his dad’s shoulder. “Loosen up. You have a hot old chick now.”
Shove a knife in my heart. “I’ll try not to be offended by that.”
Rory laughed, while Patrick grimaced.
“You know what I mean,” Rory got in, once his laughter died down.
