Page 36 of Make You Mine This Christmas (Holly Ridge #2)

Brody slumps against me, his arms tight around my shoulders. I wrap mine around his back and trace a pattern from the top of his ass to his shoulder blades. Moments pass by as we stay tangled up in each other. He pulls back and pushes the sweaty hair off my forehead.

“I love you,” he says, staring into my eyes and it feels like he can see into my soul. He smiles as if he likes what he finds.

“I love you, too.” The feelings of hope and contentment filling me up in this moment are unlike anything I’ve ever felt, even ten years ago. This version of Austin and Brody is stronger and more sure.

“The ensuite has a bathtub big enough for two. And peppermint bubble bath.”

I lean forward and place a peck on his lips. “As long as you’re there, it sounds like heaven.”

* * *

The bright light of a new winter’s morn wakes me, shining in from between the curtains we forgot to pull closed last night.

Brody sucked me off while I sat on the edge of the tub before he snuck downstairs for our pajamas.

They didn’t quite make it out of the boxes yet, but I’m excited to start new traditions with Brody.

The man in question is plastered against my back and grinding his morning wood against my ass.

“How does Grams handle it if we’re late for breakfast?” I ask, my voice froggy with sleep.

“Well, the last time I was late she left you in her place, so I think it might work out for me.” His phone vibrates on the side table. “Or it was a one-time thing, and that text is a ten-minute warning.” He rolls away from me to check the time and sighs. “Guess it’s PJ time, not BJ time.”

I laugh, rolling over to face him. “Merry Christmas,” I say.

He leans in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

We each freshen up in the bathroom and don our white, green, and red plaid, Brody takes my hand and leads me down the stairs, my feet cozy in his back-up slippers.

“Is that my grandson and his beau I hear?” A woman in her 70s wearing a matching set of pajamas appears from the kitchen. “It is! And to think it only took one reminder text.”

“Merry Christmas, Grams,” Brody says, wrapping one arm around her in a hug while keeping a hold of my hand. “I’d introduce you, but I believe you two have met?”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Walker,” I say. “Thanks again for the assist last night.”

She pulls me into a tight hug, surprisingly strong for a five-foot woman. “Call me Grams. Great to have you here, Austin.” Brody’s eyes are shining with happiness when we part, taking in the scene in front of him.

“So, what did you boys get up to last night?” We exchange a quick glance, scrambling for something to say. “Never mind. Clearly, I don’t want to know. The casserole should be almost done, and I pulled the rolls out right before you came down. Come in and get some coffee.”

We sit around the island in the kitchen while Grams tells us all about the party she was at last night and the people she saw.

It feels very similar to Christmases at my mom’s in a lot of ways, if I can ignore the huge, fancy kitchen and the knowledge there are floor to ceiling windows looking over Central Park in the next room.

“Well,” Grams says once we’re done and have loaded the dishwasher.

“I’m off to take a shower and get ready for our carriage ride.

Good thing you’re a New England boy and came prepared for the cold, Austin—it’s a big park!

Then Chinese takeout and Christmas movies in the rec room.

Austin, you’ll save us from arguing over whose turn it is to pick the third movie this year.

My pick is White Christmas and Brody picks—”

“Elf,” I finish for her. Grams laughs.

“Our boy does love that goofy tights-and-tunic wearing guy. See you soon, gentlemen.” Without another word, she’s off.

I lean over the counter, next to where Brody’s leaning against his back. “Was it the elf costume that really brought you back to me? Be honest.”

He bends down to kiss me. “It didn’t hurt.”

I shove him lightly, and we both laugh.

“I have something for you. I snuck it under the tree last night when I grabbed our PJs,” Brody says, leading the way into the living room.

“Grams had me put my box under there when I got here yesterday. She’s serious about Christmas. You know, I expected with all this.” I gesture around at the high-end furniture and fixtures around us. “Christmas might be a bit different around here.”

“Now you know where I get my spirit,” Brody answers. “Before my grandpa died, I think it used to be. But now, she really tries to put people before things or status. We just do it surrounded by all”—he gestures his hands the same way I did—“this.”

I nod, soaking it all in. We settle in front of the tree on the carpet, a package in our laps. “Me first,” I say. “I think I love giving gifts even more than I love getting them. I didn’t have a ton of time. Usually I’m brainstorming the perfect gifts from July, but . . .”

“I’ll love it. Because it’s from you,” Brody says, his eyes alight with happiness. He rips into the paper and opens the box, laughing once he spots what’s inside. “My very own Christmas underwear,” he says, holding up a striped pair matching the ones I had on his first day in Holly Ridge.

“A vendor sells them at the Christmas market. You have to ask for ‘the tinsel’ when it’s daylight, but they’re a big seller.”

“Well, thank you. I love them.” His fingers worry at the envelope in his lap. “I went a bit of a different route.”

“Is it tickets for that vacation in February?” I ask, sliding my finger under the flap and ripping it open.

“Not quite.” His bottom lip tucks between his teeth. I unfold the paper inside and stare at the photo, confused.

“This is my mom’s house.” I keep looking. “This is a listing for my mom’s house.” I glance up at him, and his face is a picture of trepidation. “The listing says sold. This listing says sold, in my name.”

“You kept talking about it being the last Christmas in that house. I know your mom needed to sell it to help pay for the place in Florida.”

“You bought my mom’s house?” I repeat, dumbfounded. What a silly, romantic man, with apparently more money than sense, I’ve fallen in love with.

He takes my hand. “Is that okay?”

“I mean, I’m glad I went first with the underwear and all.” He laughs, but his eyes are still worried. “I guess I’m just surprised. You bought it not knowing if we. . .”

He nods. “I’m expecting to hear about it from my financial planner after the holidays. But it felt like the perfect gift, especially when Blaire didn’t try to talk me out of it. Though, I have to admit, it’s a little self-serving.”

“How so?” I ask, scooting so I’m sitting next to him. Brody wraps his arm around me and pulls me to his side.

“Well, if I were to need to be in the area for any extended periods of time, I hope you’d let me stay. Even if it’s a bit cold for my tastes, Winterberry Glen is my ideal type of town.”

I tilt my head so it rests on his shoulder, a smile so wide my cheeks might crack.

“And of course,” he continues, “I’d return the favor, letting you stay with me in Stamford anytime you wanted to. I really do think it could check all the boxes of your perfect place to live.” He rests his cheek against the top of my head.

“We’re going to figure this out, aren’t we?” I ask softly, staring at the lights twinkling on the tree. I’m so full of love I could burst.

“As long as you’re mine, I don’t care where we live.”

We sit there for a long time, letting our love and the possibilities for our future surround us. The year may be ending, but our story is just beginning.