Page 52 of Daddy's Little Christmas

“We should get you warmed up properly,” I said, clearing my throat. “I need to check on a few things at Holly & Pine before heading home anyway.”

He blinked, still a little dazed.

“Okay,” he said. Then, quieter, “Are you… okay?”

The fact that he asked, even while his own cheeks were flushed and his lips were kiss-bitten, did something fierce and tender to me.

“I’m good,” I said honestly. “Very good.”

He laughed softly at that.

The drive back was quiet in the best way. Snow had started again, lazy flakes drifting past the windshield as Winterhaven slipped by in muted whites and golds. Rudy sat close enough that I was aware of the heat coming off him, the occasional brush of his knee against mine when the road curved.

“You know you can tell me if it ever gets to be too much, right?” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. “Crowds. Noise. Me.”

He huffed out a breath that could’ve been a laugh.

“If it were too much,” he said, “I wouldn’t have let you drag me onto a giant frozen pond to nearly die in front of half the town.”

“You didn’t nearly die.”

“I absolutely nearly died.”

“Liar.”

“True.”

The banter was light, but underneath it I could feel that same push and pull I’d been feeling since he walked into my shop the first night—fear and trust, weaving together.

Holly & Pine came into view, the windows glowing warm against the falling snow.

I should’ve been tired. It had been a long week already, and the holidays hadn’t even fully hit yet. But as we reached the door, my heart did that ridiculous little kick again.

This was it.

“You want to come in for a minute?” I asked, cutting the engine. “I’ve… got something I want to show you.”

He paused, fingers curling lightly into the cuff of his sleeve, a small, unconscious movement that told me more than he probably realized.

“For me?” he asked.

“For you,” I said.

He swallowed, then nodded. “Okay.”

I too swallowed, suddenly aware of my own pulse in my ears, and led him through the shop—past the garlands and twinkle lights, past the tables of ornaments and the display tree we’d decorated with the town—toward the back.

The small hallway that led to the back room was dimmer, quieter. My hand hesitated only a fraction of a second on the knob.

You’re not forcing anything, I reminded myself. You’re offering.

I opened the door.

Warm light spilled into the hallway, soft and inviting.

I stepped aside and looked at him.

“Come on in,” I said gently. “Let me see if I got this right.”