I narrow my eyes at him, but I’m smiling. “How you Stella-fied it.”
The muscles shift in his throat. “Once I got you, I couldn’t let you leave.”
My heart starts to chug. “I was never going to leave.”
We reach for the collar of each other’s winter coats at the same time, pulling eagerly, our mouths locking over the center console. I can taste the hot chocolate we drank before entering Pennsylvania on his tongue, as if he needs any additional help being delicious. His big fingers spear into my hair and I unhook my seatbelt with trembling fingers, no idea what I’m intending, only knowing I need to get closer to him. Always closer.
“There was a motel a mile back—“
“I saw it,” he growls. We dive back into the kiss, my upper half leaning over the console now, his left hand leaving my hair to tease my nipples into points through my sweater, pinching them lightly and tugging. “God, Stella…I need you.”
Here’s the thing. Christmas season at Vivant was extra-spectacularly busy this year. We worked without cease from Thanksgiving through Christmas Eve—which was yesterday—and had very little couple time in the home stretch. Last night was the annual staff party, we passed out on the couch afterwards. Then this morning we had to wake up bright and early to drive to Pennsylvania to my parents’ house for brunch.
To put it mildly, we’re hornier than jackrabbits.
I’m strongly considering climbing onto his lap on this public road to get some relief.
Breaking the kiss, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Should we…”
Simultaneously, we glance at the dashboard clock. Eleven forty-nine.
“We told them we’d be there at noon,” Aiden groans, his head falling back against the driver’s seat. “And we’ve got another ten minutes to drive.”
With a whiny sound I’m not proud of, I drop back into my seat and reconnect the seatbelt. “Motel on the way back?”
“We might need to keep the room for a few days.” Bravely, Aiden squares his shoulders and starts the car engine again. “I guess we should be happy the store broke sales records this year. Your windows, Stella…” A breath puffs out of him as he pulls back onto the road. “You outdid yourself and I didn’t think that was possible after the summer designs.”
Spinning pastel pinwheels and glowing Chinese lanterns dance through my mind, but when I see the turnoff for my childhood street up ahead, the rush of good memories ends abruptly and my belly flops over. “Aiden, I’m really not sure about this.”
He reaches over and takes my hand, bringing it to his mouth. “I am.” He kisses my knuckles, brushing his lips sideways over my diamond engagement ring. “I’m damn sure. You’ve spent the last year learning how to be proud of yourself, Stella. Now they get a turn. They get to see who you’ve been all along. The woman I’d crawl across the Sahara to marry in March.” He squeezes my hand, saying in a softer tone, “We want them there when you walk down the aisle. Let’s start working toward that now, okay?”
“Yes,” I say on an exhale, giving Aiden a grateful look. “It’s going to be a good day.”
“It’s going to be a good day,” he repeats back to me with a lopsided grin.
I reach over to adjust his The Grinch Who Stole Christmas bowtie, then climb out of the car, my boots crunching down on the snowy driveway. I belt my winter coat tighter, checking to make sure none of my grown-out bangs have escaped their pins. Aiden takes my hand and we walk to the front door together.
Before we reach the porch, the entrance swings open and my parents stand there, framed in artificial green garland, watching us approach dubiously.
My steps slow and I have the urge to run back to the car.
Aiden’s grip tightens on my hand and he pulls me forward. “Merry Christmas, Dale and Kendra, it’s a real honor to be here. We meant to arrive a little earlier, but we stopped for hot chocolate. Can’t get enough of the stuff this time of year, can you? My Aunt Edna used to break up a salted pretzel on top of her whipped cream. Just like that. I’ll be polite and not mention the spiced rum she threw in there, too. Accidentally drank from her cup when I was eleven and spent Christmas passed out under the tree in footy pajamas. If you ask me, that’s how it should be spent, rum drunk or not. How’s brunch coming along? Need any help in there?”
I’m staring at my fiancé in disbelief.
Not because I didn’t expect him to open with an Aunt Edna story.
No, that’s pretty much a given.
I’m in disbelief at myself. For not believing this would be okay. In under a minute, Aiden has not only broken the tension, he’s shattered it like it never existed. My stomach knots are untying themselves and…I’m even exchanging a bemused smile with my mother.
“Hi,” I breathe into the cold Christmas morning air. “Yes, he’s always like this. Isn’t it wonderful?” I give Aiden a grateful look, squeeze his hand once and let it go, climbing the familiar steps and stopping in front of my parents. “Merry—”
They throw their arms around me at the same time.
I make a choked sound, reeling in shock for several beats before returning their embrace, a warmth I didn’t realize I was missing spilling back into my limbs. Over their shoulders, I can see into the house. Framed on their entry table is a picture of my first Vivant window. My second one is right behind it at an angle. Same frame every time.
I recognize the hammered bronze design from the Housewares department from Vivant.
Aiden has been sending them pictures of my windows.
“Come on,” my mother says, dusting some snow off the shoulder of my jacket, my father discreetly drying his eyes before stepping past me to shake Aiden’s hand. “Brunch is almost ready.”
On the way into the house, I look back at Aiden over my shoulder.
Snow falls around him, this man who can be both my hero and stand back and let me be my own. This one-of-a-kind man I can’t wait to marry in the spring.
I pack every ounce of love for him into a smile. “I matching robes love you.”
“I matching robes love you back,” he rasps, emotion weighing down every word. Then he climbs the stairs, wraps an arm around the small of my back and walks side by side with me into the house.
THE END
About the Author
New York Times Bestselling author Tessa Bailey can solve all problems except for her own, so she focuses those efforts on stubborn, fictional blue collar men and loyal, lovable heroines. She lives on Long Island avoiding the sun and social interactions, then wonders why no one has called. Dubbed the “Michelangelo of dirty talk,” by Entertainment Weekly, Tessa writes with spice, spirit, swoon and a guaranteed happily ever after. Catch her on TikTok at @authortessabailey or check out tessabailey.com for a complete list of books.
Coming Soon from Tessa Bailey
The highly anticipated follow up to It Happened One Summer…
An Excerpt from Hook Line and Sinker!
Hannah tore her wistful eyes off the man she’d been crushing on for two years—and saw Fox crossing the parking lot in their direction, his striking face a mask of alarm. “Hannah?”
Her mind made a scratchy humming sound, like the one a record makes in between songs. Probably because she’d communicated with this man every day for six—no, nearly seven—months now but never heard his voice. Perhaps because his identity had been whittled down to words on a screen, she’d forgotten that he commanded attention like a grand finale of fireworks in the night sky.