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I’m looking around for Hendrix, but he finds me first. His hands are at my hips, and he presses into my back and puts his mouth near my ear. “Got something to show you.”
“What?” I ask, but he has my hand and pulls me down a hallway to a music room. A handful of guests mingle about.
In the corner sits a beautiful ebony piano, and Hendrix leads me that way. He draws both of us down onto the bench seat and angles us toward each other.
I cock an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing? I know you don’t play piano, and you know I don’t as we’ve already had the ‘do you play any musical instruments’ conversation.”
Hendrix grins and points upward. Hanging from a chandelier right above our heads is a sprig of mistletoe bound with red velvet ribbon. “Thought we could make out.”
I laugh and give him a playful push, but he grabs my wrists and pulls me to him. His lips are featherlight, a mere brush before pulling slightly back. “I was thinking…”
“That’s good, because my brain is mush when you kiss me.”
Hendrix laughs. “I was thinking of staying here Christmas Eve and heading home the morning of Christmas Day. But I didn’t want to assume you’d want me to stay with you. So I thought—”
“Yes!” I exclaim, leaning in and kissing him back. I have to work Christmas Day, so Hendrix planned to go home Christmas Eve since it’s not a long drive, but I like this idea a lot better. “I’m cooking dinner for me and my dad, and I’d love for you to be there.”
Hendrix grins and kisses me hard. “It’s a date, then.”
CHAPTER 21
Hendrix
Stevie leans against the door, smiling at me in a way that has me wanting to pounce on her. Her dad just left after a nice Christmas Eve meal. It was simple—ham, au gratin potatoes, and a green bean casserole that I passed on because I fucking hate green beans.
Dessert more than made up for it as Stevie made a German chocolate cake, done solely for my benefit because she knows it’s my favorite. I mentioned in passing during our first date, and she remembered. It was delicious, and my belly is full.
So is my heart.
Being able to spend Christmas Eve with her is special in a way that even I don’t fully understand. My family was gracious when I told them I wouldn’t be in tonight, but they weren’t surprised. I’ve been keeping them in the Stevie loop, and they’re all coming to a game in mid-January so they can meet her.
“I think it’s safe to say your present to my dad was a hit,” Stevie murmurs as she pushes off the door.
“Yeah… his grunt and chin lift hit me right here,” I say, thumping my chest with my fist.
Stevie bursts out laughing because he did a little more than that. It wasn’t effusive, but he was shocked, and when he said, “Thank you,” I could tell he truly meant it.
But then he said, “Don’t expect anything from me. I don’t give presents to anyone except Stevie.”
“Duly noted,” I replied.
I swoop in on her, wrap my arms around her waist, and ask, “Can we exchange our gifts now?”
“We were supposed to get gifts for each other?”
I lean in for a hard kiss. “Smart-ass. You saw me put one under the tree for you when I got here.”
“Doesn’t mean I got you one,” she replies tartly.
“I already snooped. There’s something under the tree with my name on it.” I release my hold and push her toward the kitchen. “Get the eggnog. I’ll get the bourbon.”
We mix drinks and Stevie sprinkles nutmeg on top. She puts on classic Christmas music via her Wi-Fi speakers, and Burl Ives sings about a holly, jolly Christmas. Stevie turns off the two lamps in the living room so that the only light is from the Christmas tree.
“Sit,” I order her as I place my drink on the coffee table. “I’ll get the presents.”
By the time I’ve turned back to her, she’s curled up on the end of the couch closest to the tree. She looks magical sitting in the glow of the multicolored lights. Her hair is pulled back except for a few locks that have fallen free, and it makes her look fresh and young. Tonight, Stevie’s dressed in green leggings printed with tiny candy canes and an off-the-shoulder white sweater. With a pair of white fuzzy socks on her feet, she looks so comfortable, like she might be ready to read a book or perhaps join me in a deep discussion.
She looks fuckable, too, but that’s actually not at the top of my agenda right now. I just want to be in this Christmas space with her.
I pull out the two presents. The one to me is a box wrapped in red foil paper, cross-tied with a satin bow. It’s about nine inches long and about four inches wide and light as a feather.
