Chapter Four
Hunter bouncedin the doorway to her studio like a kid at Christmas, which he sort of was—they were two weeks away from the holidays, but he’d told her over breakfast that morning, the day after she got back from Tahoe, that he wanted to give her present to her early.
“It’s not your only present. I’m still going to fill your stocking on Christmas Day.” A few weeks before, they’d discovered that they’d both be essentially alone on Christmas, although Hunter had a dinner planned with friends, and Serena usually served dinner at the Men’s Mission in downtown San Diego. But she’d tentatively suggested maybe they spend the morning together, and Hunter had been all for it.
Of course he had been. He was all for everything. The most agreeable man in the universe.
“And this way we can start the holidays sooner—officially like.”
“Okay, if you want to. And conveniently,” she added, feeling mighty proud of herself, “I already have your present.” She didn’t have any wrapping paper, but she could make something up in her studio while he was at work.
“Tonight, then?” He’d given her a wicked grin that made her toes curl.
“Tonight.”
Now it was time, and she was dithering in her supply closet, looking for exactly the right ribbon. The watch wasn’t that big of a box, really, but she didn’t have any holiday bows, so she needed something that would still look festive and special enough for the ten seconds he saw it before opening…
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered at herself.
“A problem?”
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m being ridiculous.” Taking a deep breath, she spun around and held out the silver-wrapped cube. She’d painted the paper herself at lunch time, drying it with her hair dryer. The fat, paint-splattered silver script readHunter Is My Favourite Christmas Elfover and over again. She’d carefully wrapped it so all the tape was tucked away on the bottom, and in delicate red ink—the only colour on the entire gift—she’d written,Love, Serena.
Not quite “I love you,” but getting there.
Maybe she’d be more keen to say it if he said it again. After that first night, he’d used the l-word many times, but never in that particular chain. More like, “I love the way you move/smell/feel/laugh/concentrate…”
Yeah, she knew he liked her a lot. The feeling was plenty mutual. He was amazing. They could start a mutual admiration society for the ages.
But she’d only said those particular three words, in that exact order, to one other man. And he’d scorched her heart so badly it was a miracle she could feel anything. If she said them again, it would be on a solid foundation.
When. She’d get there with Hunter. She could feel it.
“It doesn’t have a ribbon, because I couldn’t find the right one, but… here you go. Merry Christmas.” She handed over the box, and took it with a surprisingly tender smile.
“And this is for you,” he said, holding out a box of his own—a rectangle about the size and shape of a tissue box.
She reached for it and he lifted both presents above his head.
“No fair, Hunter!” she laughed. “You’re nearly a foot taller than me.”
“We should open them in your room, I think.” He winked at her and turned on his heel. She couldn’t do anything but follow, not that she was complaining.
Maybe his present was romantic. They’d talked about going out with his friends to a bar, but she wouldn’t care if they stayed in, either. “Is that a hint?”
“Maybe.” He wigged her present in the air. That just meant that he was wiggling his entire body, which distracted her from caring about where they did this, because a dancing Hunter was a hot Hunter.
Hell, all versions of Hunter were hot. She groped his butt because it was fine, then jumped on his back, loving that he barely stumbled at the sneak attack.
Kissing his neck, she tried to leverage herself up his back and onto his shoulders, but he dumped the presents on the bed before she could get to them and before she knew it, she was flat on her back being pressed against the bed by six-foot-four-inches, two-hundred-ten pounds of laughing, sexy man.
“Desperate for your present?” he breathed against her lips.
She grinned. “Maybe.”
“I hope so.” He gave her an intense, thorough look, his hazel eyes almost liquid gold in the warm lamplight. “I should tell you about the present, you know. It’s…I…um…”
She giggled and nipped at his jaw. “Wow, really?”
