Briar straightened and looked at him, joy dancing through her senses. “My momma used to tell my daddy that if he got her something that plugged in, he’d failed.” She grinned at him. “But I do need a new vacuum, and Ihavebeen telling you about how much I would like an espresso machine….”
Tarr grinned at her. “And the boots you’re wearing have a hole in the bottom, honey.”
“They do not,” she said. “It’s actually in the top where my pinky toe pokes through.”
He grinned at her and hugged her closer. “So all of the above?”
“Honestly, Tarr, it doesn’t matter. I haven’t gotten gifts from anyone at Christmastime in five years.”
“I’m real sorry about that,” he said. “I think I’m just feeling a lot of pressure, because you made my birthday so awesome.”
“How about this?” Briar ran one hand down the side of his face, simply because she liked touching him. “I’ve got a Christmas tree we can set up in the cabin, and you don’t have one in your RV. So let’s do Christmas Eve at my house, and I’ll cook, and you can bring all the gifts, stockings, cards, music, whatever you want.”
“Okay,” he said. “I think that sounds great.”
Briar did too, and she stretched up to kiss him real quick before she settled back onto flat feet. “Come on. We better get over to the mansion to say goodbye to Tuck and Bobbie Jo before they leave for Oklahoma.”
He groaned and prevented her from stepping out of his arms. “Do we have to? Can’t we just stay here and kiss a little longer?”
“No,” she said with a giggle. “Now, come on.”
twenty
Taggart Crow smiled and started to sink onto the couch as he extended the mug of hot chocolate to his wife, Opal. “Here you go, honeybee,” he murmured.
“Thank you.” She took a sip, her own smile prevalent as they both watched four-year-old West play with his trucks and toys.
“All right, sorry about that.” Gerty exhaled heavily as she came out of the hall leading further back into the farmhouse where she lived with her CEO husband, Mike. She perched on the arm of the couch and beamed at her son. “Are you ready, baby? We’re going to do our Christmas Eve presents.”
West jerked his head up and looked at his mother. “Cwristmas pwesents?”
The little boy would be five next month, and he really was the most adorable thing on the planet—even Tag thought so.
“Remember, you can only pick one from your stocking, and Momma and Daddy have one to give you.”
West got to his feet and parked himself right in front of the Christmas tree. “Not one of these.”
“Nope, not one of those, buddy,” Mike said. “Momma’s got your present over here. You get to pick one thing from your stocking.”
Tag happened to know that there was only one present in the stocking. After all, Santa Claus hadn’t come yet, so how could there be more?
He and Opal had spent Christmas with Mike and Gerty last year, and he did enjoy their family traditions of opening pajamas on Christmas Eve and putting one small amazing thing in their son’s stocking.
A year ago, Opal had helped West pick his present from the stocking, but today she remained steadfastly on the couch. Only ten days from delivering their daughter, she moved much slower these days than she had last year or even last month, and Tag reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. He cherished her every day, thanking God that He’d allowed Tag to meet her and somehow orchestrated it so she fell in love with him.
She looked over to him and smiled, and Tag returned it, mentally mapping out their own family Christmas traditions for a year from now. They’d have so many firsts this year, and Tag wanted to experience all of them.
“All right, has everyone got their present?” Mike handed Opal a pair of packages as he spoke. She kept the one wrapped in bright red paper with twinkling gold stars and passed him the one that looked like a Christmas Eve night sky, the navy blue and gold reminding him so much of what he imagined the night Christ had been born looked like.
“Ready, Daddy,” West said, his package perched on his knees as he knelt in front of the Christmas tree.
Mike got down on the floor with his little boy. “All right, let’s open ‘em.”
The sound of ripping paper and crumpling filled the air, and then West gave the biggest gasp any small child could do.
“Momma!” he yelled. “Mine be Buzz Lightyear!”
He jumped to his feet, shaking the last of the wrapping paper from his pajamas—which wasn’t a two-piece set, but a onesie.
