Page 41 of Naughty-ish

“I see that.” I giggle. “But it’s the classic, right? The past, present, and future haunt us. But it’s also not that simplistic. It’s a reminder to be youthful. Not necessarily childlike or childish, because we can never go backward in time. Just be young at heart, I guess. Does that even make sense?”

Nick shifts, perches up on his arm and rests his head on his hand. “Perfect sense.”

“It’s also a reminder to be present in the present.” My brows lift as I give my interpretation and reality slowly sinks in.

Be the light. Nick and I were so playfully reckless when we snuck among the evergreens and then raced through an illuminated garden.

Be present. Nick was also there when I spent the day with my children, forming a new tradition.

He continues to watch me, but a smile crooks the corner of his lips.

“Lastly, it’s a message to challenge the future.” I pause. “No, change it. Be the future you want to be.”

Nick sits upright, leaning on his arm for support. “Sounds like you might be onto something. A great lesson for children. Or even adults.”

While he stares at me, I glance down at the blankets over my lap, considering all I’d just said. He has no idea how close he is to the truth of what I want to write.

“It’s your future, Holliday. Do what makes you happiest.”

I lift my head. “Is that what you did by becoming a fireman?”

“Exactly. The family business was never going to be mine. It was always my older brother’s destiny. And while I could have been in marketing, or research and development, I chose me instead. I wanted to do something, not make something.” He watches me as he continues, “Right now, you’re doing something. You’re a bank teller, but it’s passive, not passionate, when you’ve been called to be creative, and make something. Neither path is right or wrong, just different for each of us.”

I sigh and slowly nod. I hear him. I believe in what he’s saying, I just don’t know how to apply it. I’m not ready to write a children’s book. Maybe, someday, but right now I have children to raise, a mortgage to pay, and that means I need a steady paycheck from the bank.

“Reading all these books is how you got so smart?” I tease, tilting my head toward the bookshelves.

“I’m more than a pretty face,” he jokes, the twinkle in his eye flickering.

Laughter fills my throat. “You’re cocky.”

“Hmm. I’ll show you cocky.” His arm wraps around my waist and he takes me down to the pillows behind me. Then he kisses me, slow and sweet. He tastes like peppermint, smells like snow, and the room around us is fragrant with balsam. The heady combination draws me under his spell and soon he’s over me, between my thighs.

“I want you again,” he whispers between kisses.

“I’m all yours.”

And he isn’t so cocky as he takes his time to discover me and allow me to explore him. The intimacy feels like we’re making love, not just having neighborly sex. Tears prickle my eyes with the care and homage he pays my body. I warn myself not to let emotion get in the way. Falling in love is not on my Christmas DO list.

Instead, I feel. My skin is electric. My heart at full wattage. From Nick’s sensual attention, I glow like the star on the top of his tree.

+ + +

At the sharp sound of car doors slamming shut, I bolt upright.

“What time is it?” The question is groggy and sleep-filled despite my lack of sleep last night.

Nick and I talked for hours after round two, and then we passed out before the lingering warmth of his turned off fireplace. (Fire safety, of course).

Nick shifts. I’d been tucked into his chest, his arm over my waist, and his heat keeping me peacefully toasty.

When another car door slams, I spring from the floor and rush to the front window.

“Shit,” I mutter.

“What’s wrong?” Nick grumbles, exhausted. He had the party on Friday night and worked all day Saturday, then spent most of last night awake.

“Mitch brought the kids home early.”