“Everything with you is exciting.” He stroked back the ponytail so it was flat between her shoulder blades. “I like your T-shirt.” It was Santa and Rudolph wearing Batman and Robin costumes. He truly didn’t know where she got these things. But over the last year she’d gathered a lot of Christmas stuff. After years of boycotting the holiday, she was all in this year. She was a one-stop Christmas shop.
“You better change,” he said. “Or we’re going to be late for the party.”
“Right,” she said. “About that. I’ve decided we’re not going.”
“Not going?” Part of him, he couldn’t lie, leapt with excitement. He nearly pulled off the damn tie and flung it over his shoulder. “You’ve been talking about this party for weeks. You’re excited about the party.”
“I know, but—”
“We’ve been practicing.” The calluses on his fingers had calluses.
“And that’s been great. So wonderful.”
“Yule log, Trina. Yule. Log.”
“Ah ha, we don’t have to leave the house for a yule log either!”
She slipped her fingers through his and led him into the kitchen. The counters were full of party food. Olives and sausage rolls. Shrimp. Cheese cut into little cubes with toothpicks sticking out of them.
“What is going on?” he asked, snagging a chip as she tugged him past.
Trina opened the fridge with a flourish. “Ta da.”
He ducked down and looked into the old Frigidaire. On the top shelf there was a huge brown lump. “Oh God, Trina, is that—”
“A yule log!” she cried.
Yes. Of course. A yule log.
“That is amazing, but all of this food will be at the party too. And an open bar. Drunk Trina loves an open bar.”
“I’ve got that covered, too.” From the cooler on the kitchen island she grabbed a Bud and twisted off the cap. “For you.”
She grabbed the beer she’d been drinking from the counter and gave his bottle a tap with hers. “Cheers. Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas,” he said. “But why are you doing this?”
“Right. Well, I noticed that every time I talked about how excited I was about the party, you seemed to get less and less excited.”
“That’s not true,” he lied, and she shot him her patented litigator look. “Okay, it’s true. But it’s only because Dad and I are still trying to be civil, and that’s exhausting, and—”
“Your brother is there,” she filled in for him. “And he’s a jerk and you hate ties.”
He slumped, sad that he’d somehow managed to ruin all her excitement. “I do hate ties, but once a year I will suffer a tie for this party because I know you love it.”
“I do.” She whispered a kiss across his cheek. And then the other one. And then his mouth.
He hummed low in his throat, loving her sweetness.
“But I love you more.”
He groaned and set down his beer so he could wrap her up in his arms. “I love you, too. So much.”
“So ditch the tie, babe. You’ve got something here you can change into, don’t you?”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally sure. Now go.”
Dean practically sprinted into the bedroom, where he kept a lot of stuff. He ditched the tie and the suit and slipped into a worn pair of jeans and a long-sleeve henley. He sighed with relief when he kicked off the pinchy dress shoes.
“All right, here’s the deal,” he said, stepping back into the warm living room that glowed with the lights from the tree. “This year we don’t go, but next year…”
He stopped because Trina was standing next to the island, holding out a small box wrapped in red and green paper. A lopsided bow was falling off the top.
“I was going to do this later,” she said. “But I’m so nervous I just want to get it over with.”
“Isn’t gift giving for the morning?” Crap. This was why he needed that damn speech. The gift he’d wanted for her, the real one, he’d been unable to get, and he was worried there was some bad stuff working behind the scenes to keep it from him. From her.
“Please,” she said, shaking it out at him.
“Well, if this is an engagement ring, the answer is yes.”
“You didn’t… It’s not.” She looked utterly stricken.
“Relax, baby.” He kissed her lips. “That’s my job.”
And frankly, he was pretty sure she wasn’t quite ready for that. It had been a slow-moving courtship, but by her birthday, he thought. In the summer. He’d give her his grandmother’s engagement ring. She’d like that.
Which made the fact that he’d failed to get her the gift he wanted to give her even worse.
He tore open the paper and flipped open the small white box. Inside, on a little piece of cotton, was a key.
A house key.
“Move in with me,” she said, and then blushed. “Please.”
He could make a joke, tease it out a little bit, but she was so clearly on edge and he didn’t want anything to put a shadow over tonight.
Because what he had to tell her kind of had that shadow thing covered. And it was a freaking shame too, because she’d been excited about this Christmas. The first one in years.
“Come here.” He reeled her in, against his chest. Where she belonged. “Of course I’ll move in. I can’t wait.”
She slumped against him, laughing a little. “I don’t know why I was so nervous,” she said.