“Oh, you sweet dear. I already know everyone.”
Outside, Dad and I walk to the back of the truck, where my present is tied down in the bed and covered with blankets.
I jump up into the truck and start to untie the straps.
“So the owner of the tea shop…” I let my voice drop off with innuendo.
“We’re just friends,” Dad says good-naturedly. “Or, more accurately, I’m now one of her suppliers.”
“Congrats,” I say, but I also see an unfamiliar spark in his eyes. Maybe I’m not the only Reynolds man with love in his future.
Jack and Maisie are in on my surprise, so I’m not surprised when Jack runs out the door to help.
“Maisie has Molly occupied in the back yard. As big as she is, Molly will never get past her.” He gives me a death stare. “If you ever tell her I said that, no one will ever find your body.”
I laugh, but he continues glaring at me, and my laugh tapers off into a weak chuckle. Still, I wouldn’t put it past Molly to realize something’s up and give her sister the slip. Some people might think she’s nosy, and they’re not wrong, but I find her curiosity endearing.
I already know hiding Christmas presents is going to be a bitch.
I pull off the blankets, and Jack and I slide the table across the blanket and out of the truck.
“I can’t believe you made this,” Jack says in awe.
I shrug, but it feels good. Especially since this piece was made with so much love. “I hope she likes it.”
But I know she will. It could be the ugliest table in North Carolina, and she’d love it because I made it for her with my own two hands.
“Let’s get it inside,” Jack says. He lifts one end and I grab the other. Dad follows, carrying the blanket I’d used to cover the table.
As we carry the table through the front door, I can hear Molly calling out, sounding very suspicious. “What are you doing, Jack?”
I can’t help smiling. That’s my girl.
Dad covers the table with a blanket while Maisie does her best to keep Molly out of the house, stretching her arm across the open doorway and wrapping her hands around the wood molding.
“You’re trying to tackle a pregnant woman,” Maisie says in mock disgust. “Your sister no less.”
“I just want to know what’s going on in my own house,” Molly says, trying to look over her shoulder. “Cal, what are you up to?”
“I’m trying to surprise you, Molly,” I groan with a laugh. “Roll with it, will you?”
When it’s set up the way I want it, I say, “Let her in, Maisie. I’m ready.”
Then I step around Dad to intercept her.
“Molly,” I say, suddenly feeling emotional. “I know you made me promise only to make impractical things for the next month, but I had to break my promise.”
“Cal,” she groans, but there’s no anger in her tone. Only amusement. She’d bet me that I wouldn’t be able to help myself, which means I lost the bet, but considering that her prize is she can have her way with me for a night, I figure I’m still a winner.
“But,” I add, “I did it for a good cause.” Then I step back and let her see the blanket-covered table in the kitchen.
Her mouth drops open and she looks up at me in shock. “When did you find the time?”
I laugh. We’ve been together far more than we’ve been apart. “Let’s just say there’s more than one reason for all the sleep I’ve been missing.”
She laughs and stops at the edge of her gift. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
Her eyes well up with tears.
“Don’t get too excited yet,” I say. “You might want to see it before you get all emotional.”
She grabs a handful of the blanket, then gives a good yank, revealing the rectangular walnut table with X-shaped legs at each end, mounted on a platform base.
“Molly!” Maisie calls out from the doorway. “Look under the table.”
She takes several steps back and squats to see the six-inch-wide beam joining the two ends. It’s positioned halfway between the tabletop and the floor. Several three-inch planks create a radiating spoke pattern that is attached to the beam and the underside of the table.
Molly looks up at me, her eyes burning bright with gratitude and love. “Oh, Cal. It’s beautiful.”
“Welcome home, Molly,” Maisie says, her voice breaking.
“Welcome home,” a chorus of voices rings out.
I pull Molly into a hug and whisper in her ear, “I’m not going to say welcome home yet. Not until we’re living together.” I lean back and look into her eyes. “But I’m very much looking forward to that day—when we’re both ready.”
She nods, then gives me a hard kiss, and everyone cheers. Then she throws her arms around my neck and whispers, “Just how sturdy is that table?”
I laugh and kiss her again. “I made it just for you. What do you think?”
“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun testing it out,” she says, her eyes twinkling.
“Hey, where are the chairs?” Harry calls out, edging into the kitchen.
“They’re not ready yet,” I say, “but I’m making some.”
“Oh, we won’t need chairs,” Molly says, her voice heavy with innuendo.
Harry groans and mutters something about industrial-strength cleansers, but my gaze is on Molly.
Before her, I thought I wanted a simple life. This existence we’re making together is anything but simple. It’s full of noise and people and togetherness. It’s full of chaos. But it sure as hell won’t be boring.
***
Want more Molly and Cal? So did we! So we wrote a bonus story! You can read it here! If the link doesn’t work, go here: https://mailchi.mp/65229362a330/lafhbc
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Jingle Bell Hell
She’s a sexually repressed control freak. He’s a muscular ex-con with heavier baggage than Santa’s toy bag. They’re everything each other never wanted.
Read the first chapter on the next page!
Jingle Bell Hell Sneak Peek
Mary
Sometimes I need to pretend that life can still be predictable. Which is why I’m Christmas tree shopping with my son, Aidan, the day after Thanksgiving, just like always, even though our lives have changed in every other possible way.
It is not going well.
Problem one: I imbibed too much at my little sister’s Thanksgiving gathering, and now I have a serious hangover. I haven’t had many, admittedly, but this may be the worst.