Page 62 of Terms and Traditions

Hailey scoffed. “Ha, I see how things are. I wake you up, trying to do a nice thing for you, and I get shoved off the bed. Mr. Dreamy over there says a handful of pretty words, and you’re primping.”

“Shut up,” I growled, slipping my Marine hoodie over my oversized T-shirt and shuffling to the door as she cackled, like the deranged woman she was.

“You’re lucky I love you,” I muttered to her, opening the cracked door to reveal a smiling Nash. I took him in through half-open puffy eyes. He wore the blue-and-red plaid flannel pajama pants and black hoodie well. His hair was sleep rumpled, but his eyes were bright behind his glasses. Goodness, he was adorable in the mornings. “Ugh, you’re a morning person. That might be a deal breaker.”

Nash laughed, holding out a gorgeous sight. A Christmas mug full of steaming hot coffee with a pillow of whipped cream. “You’re a delight in the morning, sweetheart.”

I growled and made grabby hands at the mug, catching a whiff of peppermint. But before I captured my bribe, the momentum of standing caught up to me, and I pitched forward.

Nash caught me against his chest. “Whoa! Hailey, can you grab this?”

I shut my eyes against the swimming sensation plaguing my senses and shamelessly nestled into his hoodie. “You smell nice,” I whispered, squeezing my arms around his waist, letting him take my weight after he passed the coffee off to Hailey.

His chuckle rumbled under my cheek. “So do you.” He rubbed my back lightly. “You okay?”

I nodded against the fabric. “Got up too fast.”

“I see you’re falling for me,” he teased. “First in the hallway and now this.”

That cheekiness deserved a smack. Which I felt strong enough to deliver to his shoulder.

After a minute, I reluctantly eased out of his arms, no longer a gangly newborn colt. Nash rescued the coffee from Hailey and handed it to me.

Two swigs in, I hummed appreciatively. The man brewed good coffee, I’d give him that. I stifled a yawn. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Merry Christmas. You ready to open presents?”

“No.” I grumbled, taking another sip of my mocha. “But apparently, I can be bribed with coffee and forehead kisses from a cute guy in nerdy glasses. Let's go.”

Hailey spluttered behind me, and Nash laughed as he draped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. No complaints here as the delightful citrusy scent that always accompanied him filled my nose. “My glasses do it for you, huh? Man, I’m loving this Early Morning Steph with no filter.”

I snorted, taking another sip of coffee and cuddling into his warmth. Don’t judge me—I was cold. “My filter doesn’t kick in till cup number two.”

“Noted.”

Christmas morning held a special kind of magic. Maybe it was the children’s laughter. Or the winking lights from the tree. Or the cozy ambiance from the fire in the hearth. Or just maybe it was cuddling with your new boyfriend on the sofa in Christmas pj's and sipping the most decadent coffee while watching a bunch of kids open presents.

Definitely the snuggling. Highly recommend.

Every family had a different way of opening gifts, and we were the one-at-a-time type or a couple of kids together if it was a group gift. Savouring the moment and reducing noise levels were the ultimate goals.

But first. Stockings. Which was an all-at-once affair. After stockings came homemade shortbread, mandarin oranges, and coffee.

Gift giving was one of my love languages and finding the perfect gifts each year was one of my favourite parts of the season, even if I started planning a year in advance sometimes. This year, Jackson’s gift was my personal favourite accomplishment because—

“CAL SATTERFIELD!” Jackson’s shriek was deafening. His whole body shook with excitement as he waved the navy-and-silver jersey overhead. “And it’s signed!” He ran a finger over the bold, scrawling script of Cal’s signature. “He’s the best player in the AHL. His scoring average is the highest for his position in the Pacific Division. With his talent, he’s wasting it in the minor leagues.”

“Should I pass along your assessment to the man himself?” I asked, biting back a smile, even if the last part of his speech stung uncomfortably. Cal had his reasons for sticking to an AHL career. I’d have to chat with Jackson after.

Jackson flung himself into my arms, half landing on Nash beside me as he went in for a bear hug. “I forget how cool you are sometimes when your best friend is Cal Satterfield’s sister.”

I squeezed him a little harder, soaking up the moment before I ruffled his hair. He was growing up so fast—they all were. Soon he’d be too cool for hugs from Auntie Steph. Then came graduating high school, dating, marriage. Ugh, I couldn’t go down that trail of thought. Stay little a little longer. “That’s right, I’m the cool aunt.” What I didn’t tell him was that there was a second half to the gift. When I had Cal sign the jersey, he offered me a few special tickets for Gabe and Ivy to take the kids to a home game in Caldwell on their way back to San Diego.

Jackson slipped the jersey over his pajamas and flashed me a toothy grin when it came down to his knees. “You’re the best, Auntie Steph.”

“My turn! Here.” Ivy handed me a small burgundy-papered box, tied with a silver bow.

“I thought we weren’t exchanging here,” I murmured. Christmas morning was mostly for the kids and Hiram. Because most of my siblings and I didn’t exchange gifts. Only Gabe’s family and me. And we preferred to do it in quiet pockets of time over the course of the day.