Page 20 of Naughty-ish

He stops walking and places his hands on my shoulders. “You’re lying. You know what you’d write.”

“How do you know I’m lying?” Defiantly, I lift my head and glare.

“Because I know if you’ve been bad or good, and lying is bad.”

A choked laugh fills my throat at the seriousness of his tone.

“Well, lying might be bad but I wouldn’t mind being on the naughty list.”

Nick straightens and I freeze. Did I really say that out loud?

“Anyway.” I clear my throat. “How about ornament shopping?” I tip my head toward the gift shop. I don’t know why we’re discussing a long ago dream and a suppressed passion. We’re here to enjoy cutting down a tree, watching the kids laugh, and finding decorations for a new tradition in my home.

Be present.

“Hot chocolate first?” Nick questions, still watching me, accepting that I’ve just brushed off answering him.

“A man after my heart,” I tease.

“I’m trying,” Nick says, before turning for the kids and calling their names to see if they’d like a hot drink.

BE PRESENT

Chapter 5

“Tree chopping is hard work,” Nick teases from the front seat of his truck as he glances in his rearview mirror. Eloise and Nash are both knocked out in the back seat. Eloise’s head is tipped toward the window. Nash’s mouth hangs wide open.

“It’s all the fresh air.” Plus, hot chocolate, a peppermint cookie, and a sleigh ride. With new ornaments wrapped in a bag at my feet and a fresh tree in the back of the truck, I smile to myself. It’s been a good day.

“What do my wondering eyes see . . . is that a smile on Miss Holliday?” Nick teases.

“I smile.” And my grin grows larger.

“You have a beautiful smile, but your eyes are sad sometimes.”

I blink as if that might change their appearance. An apology is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back. Why would I apologize? Am I sad? I wasn’t. Not really, just feeling alone. Although, the day has been fun, and Nick is a good man.

He clears his throat. “How’d you get a name like Holliday if you aren’t a fan of Christmas?”

“I never said I wasn’t a fan,” I defend but laughter fills my throat. “My dad loved the season. He was like a kid when it snowed, building a fort in the yard or a sledding hill off our back deck. He loved rolling snowmen or starting impromptu snowball fights.”

My voice lowers as I recall how my dad had been so fun, but work and stress age a man.

“Anyway, he wanted to name me Winter, but my mom didn’t like that. They compromised on Holliday because I could be called Holli as a kid.”

“Holli,” Nick tries out the name on his tongue. “Hmm. I kind of like the full name better.”

“Me too.” I consider how my parents used my name as more like a reprimand and Mitch spoke it in a patronizing tone. My full name felt more sophisticated.

“Tell me something about Nick Santos.” I shift in my seat. “I feel like we’re always discussing me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything.” I tease wiggling my brows. “Something no one else knows.”

Nick shifts in his seat, fingers spreading over the steering wheel before clutching it again.

“Or not,” I quickly retract.