She rolls the dice, and it lands on a one, which means she has to switch gifts with the person to the right of her.
Melissa rolls a five next. “Open it!” she yells. She laughs when she unwraps it and shows us an apron with a picture of Lionel Richie in a sultry pose with the words Hello. Is it me you’re cooking for? written on it.
She holds it against herself to model it for everyone.
Tyler almost spits out the eggnog he was drinking. “Nice,” he says smoothly when he recovers.
“My turn,” Samantha says, getting up to grab the dice. She rolls a three, which means she can swap with anyone. She hands her still-wrapped gift to Melissa and takes the apron from her, and Melissa pouts.
Tyler has the gift with the elf wrapping paper. He rolls a six and gets to open the gift on his lap. He yanks out the tissue paper and pulls out socks. With shreds of cheese and a grater, they say, My puns are grate.
I laugh out loud and then turn to Hunter. He said he loves my cheesy jokes. I thought he was being polite. He gets me, and it makes my heart smile.
It also turns me on. A lot.
I have a tingling in me, a bold kind of yearning that makes me want to tell my inner kitten to simmer down. A sip of wine will calm this itch.
Reaching across the couch for my glass of wine that’s sitting on the end table, I rest my hand on Hunter’s thigh, and my palm skims down the inside. His muscle flexes at the touch, and—let’s call it a Freudian slip—my ring and pinkie fingers move over his crotch. I feel the release of his breath hit the back of my head.
I grip the wineglass, and on the return, my hand slides off his thigh and rests against his now-very-hard erection.
As I settle back into the couch and take a much-needed sip of wine from my brazenness, Hunter turns his body toward mine and whispers in my ear, “Look who’s finally found her inner holiday harlot.”
“Okay, Katie, so far, we have cheesy socks, an apron, and Joe just opened edible underwear,” Samantha says. “If you’re lucky, you can take those home.”
As she winks, I cough, sitting up straighter. Melissa makes a gagging face, and Hunter squeezes my shoulder while readjusting himself.
I pick up the dice and roll.
“Try not to win the underwear,” Hunter says quietly.
I look over at him. “Why?”
“I hate the taste of them in my mouth.” He lowers his voice to a barely audible whisper. “But I’d make an exception for you.”
He winks.
And I take a drink.
A very long drink. I think I’m gonna need it.
Chapter Eleven
It’s past eleven when the extended family leaves. Melissa and Tyler put the kids to bed and are packing for their drive home to Massachusetts tomorrow.
Hunter and I volunteered to clean up the last remnants of the day’s festivities. Nancy protested, but her husband marched her up the stairs. I’ve enjoyed getting to know them today, but mainly, I’ve enjoyed seeing the way they interact. They’re the type of couple who are always touching, whether it’s a hand on the back or reaching out to graze hands while passing in the hall. I even caught them giving each other quick kisses throughout the day. There wasn’t one hour where one of them wasn’t checking in with the other to see if they needed help or a drink or to pass a compliment.
“Your parents are amazing,” I say, drying the china with a rag and resting it on the pile of plates we’ve cleaned.
“You sound surprised.” He hands me another item, freshly washed. His sleeves are rolled up as he rinses the last of the dishes.
I shrug as I take it from him. “Makes sense as to why you couldn’t marry Cassidy just because. Why you bounce from girl to girl now.”
He’s silent for a moment, and my nerves rattle as I wonder if I crossed some sort of line. When he gives a small, lopsided grin, I relax.
“You’re very perceptive, Katie.”
He gives me the last glass from the sink before turning the water off. As I finish the job, he dries his hands on a towel, turns his back to the sink, and crosses his arms.
I put the last dish on the pile and watch as he studies the tiled floor.
“My mom had breast cancer when I was in high school,” he finally says, and my arm instinctually reaches out to him.
He looks up with gentle eyes. “She beat it, but it came back about four years ago. She’s in remission now. My father never misses an appointment and has been by her side every step of the way. It was the same when he had a heart attack ten years ago. She nursed him back to health and changed our entire family’s eating habits because of it. Coconut shrimp on Christmas Eve excluded.”
I laugh at his joke and relax against the counter next to him.
“Melissa and I are always on pins and needles, waiting for the next call that something’s happened to them. But not them,” he continues. “They spend each day carefree, living in the moment and making plans for tomorrow. For each other. I don’t know if their kind of love is unique, but seeing it firsthand just gives me a clear sense of what I want for my life.”
I can feel my brows deepen as I take in his comment. “I thought you didn’t believe in love and romance?” I ask.
“Not the way you do,” he says seriously, his eyes finding mine and holding my gaze. “What you want is a fairy tale. What I believe in is a nurturing kind of love. A selfless love. It doesn’t mean loving the other person more than you love yourself. It means loving that person enough that their happiness brings you happiness. Their joy brings you joy. And when you love, they love you back in equal measure.”
His words make my heart swell, and then it shrinks just as fast. I know what love is. I’ve just never felt that way about another person.
“Searching for that kind of love is like looking for a needle in a haystack in New York City,” I breathe.
When he turns to me with that meaningful gaze, my breath is taken away. “Sometimes, you don’t have to look that hard.”
I was wrong. Hunter is a romantic.
He’s not a conventional romantic, in the hearts and flowers kind of way. Not in the carriage rides in the park or cheesy, overpriced dinners.
He’s romantic when I least expect it.
It’s in the way he makes me feel like the most important person in the room. Now, I know it’s not just a feeling. He really does look at me like that.
It’s in the way he took me out for a drink that first night instead of going home with Janice from Accounting—or someone else for that matter. Instead, he came to my rescue when I was about to drown my sorrows.
It’s in the way he showed up like a white knight at the shelter. He went above and beyond for those men, not wanting an ounce of thanks.
It’s in the snow globe gift, so perfect and full of understanding.
It’s in the ridiculous pair of socks that I am lucky enough to take home, which cherishes my worst quality.
It’s in the way he looks my way to make sure I’m okay.
It’s in his smile, his eyes, his deep breaths.
My mouth parts, and my chest rises as Hunter lays a hand on my waist and pulls me in for a kiss. My hands find his arms, tugging him in as our tongues caress and lips grab hold of each other. The dizzying feeling taking over my body, straight down to my toes, shouldn’t surprise me.