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Nick sighs. “Underneath the Christmas tree?”
I smile. Nod. “I just want you for—” Nick kisses me, refusing to allow me to continue quoting the song I think he secretly loves.
“That was just a ploy to get you to kiss me again.”
“You think I need a reason to kiss you? I always want to kiss you.”
“Is there anything else you want?”
Nick smiles and then leans in close, nudging my hair aside as he takes my earlobe into his mouth.
“All I want for Christmas…” He kisses me below my ear, nips at my neck. “Is you,” he rasps before sliding on top of me and claiming my lips again.
And he does have me.
And I have him.
All thanks to a little Christmas magic… And some tainted eggnog.
Epilogue
Nick - 11 Months Later
“Merry Christmas, Nick!”Quinn says, sliding two cups of Mistletoe Madness across the counter.
I take both cups in my hand, inspecting the mistletoe pattern on a bright white background. “Wasn’t Thanksgiving a few days ago?”
I glance back at Quinn. She’s wearing her usual elf outfit for this time of year—a green dress with a red collar and candy-cane striped leggings. But the thick leather belt is gone. I’d imagine it would be a tight fit around her belly.
“The countdown begins,” Quinn says smiling.
I shake my head. “It started after Halloween. But if Eva had her way, it would’ve started earlier. Right after Valentine’s Day.”
Quinn laughs. “It almost did, right? You two opened up that Christmas store in record time.”
I smile. “When Eva puts her mind to something, nothing stops her.”
I take a sip of Quinn’s concoction, make a face, and then exhale harshly. “Change the recipe this year?” I ask, biting back tears like I just down a few shots.
“A little more potent?”
“I’d say. Eva’s going to love it.”
“Christmas overload.”
I snort. “I’m not sure that’s possible. Merry Christmas, Quinn. Give my best to Beau. He must be on your case to get off your feet.”
“Speak of the devil,” she says as the door to the coffee shop opens.
Beau’s cane is already decorated like a candy cane, bells jingling as he limps through the cafe, eyes fixed on Quinn. I’ll leave him be for now. Looks like he’s about to make his case to Quinn, and I’ve got my own girl to get to.
“Good luck,” I say, clapping him on his back.
He grunts at me and continues ahead.
The frosty air nips against my nose as I exit the cafe. Christmas music is already playing softly down Main Street as a few volunteers begin wrapping red ribbons around the lampposts.
It used to be grating—all these holiday decorations, but now I look forward to them each year. They no longer remind me of what I lost. They remind me of what I gained.
