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“Speaking of… We’re supposed to make the cookies tonight.”
“You ready to head back?”
I nod. As amazing as all this is, I just want to be home—our home—with him.
When we get home, I retreat to the kitchen to send a text to Hunter’s mom. When we were at the grocery store, I knew he was clueless, so I bought items to make chocolate chip cookies and hopefully, his mother’s sugar cookies. I even snuck in a Christmas tree cookie cutter.
Armed with her recipe, I turn on Christmas music and start baking. The kitchen might look like a disaster, but the cookies seem to turn out okay.
With my surprise in hand, I head off in search of Hunter. When I find him, he’s standing on the balcony, his hands pressed on the railing, very reminiscent of our time in the Bahamas.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, joining him on the balcony.
“Checking out the Christmas lights.” He turns and sees the plate. “What’s this?”
“Your mom’s sugar cookies. I asked her for the recipe.”
He takes a cookie from the plate and bites into it. “These came out great.”
I bite into one, nervous I had messed up his mother’s recipe.
“They’re not as good as your mom’s, but they’re not half bad.”
“They’re better.”
I shake my head, doubting the truth of his words. I’ve had her cookies, and these aren’t nearly as good, but I appreciate his unwavering support. “It’s a beautiful night.”
The sky is slightly overcast, but between the clouds, you can see the stars. Balconies, building tops, and even the football stadium are decorated in beautiful Christmas lights. The whole city looks like it’s twinkling.
Hunter takes the plate and sets it down, then wraps me in a blanket before pulling me into his arm, my back resting against his chest. As we take in the view, something lands on my face. I brush it away, but a moment later, it happens again.
“What the heck is this stuff?”
“Ashes, maybe.”
“Ashes? Why in the hell would…”
Suddenly, tons of the “ashes” fall, only not the dingy color of ash. They’re white, bright white—some might say snow white.
I recall what I told Hunter earlier about never seeing snow and his quick retreat into the office to make a call.
The man is unreal in the best way.
“It’s snow. You got me snow.”
“I would give you the world if I could.”
“You are my world, Hunter.”
I twirl around under the falling snow, my arms extended out as Hunter’s laughter fills the air.
CHAPTER14
QUINN
Barely eight on Christmas morning, Hunter’s phone is already ringing.
“Hey, Mase. Merry Christmas.” There’s a pause as Mason speaks. “Yeah, okay.” Another pause only piques my curiosity. “Okay, we’ll check.” He hangs up the phone.
