“Hey now, I thought you were enforcing a zero-seduction policy?” Loren continues. “And telling spicy secrets is way worse than accidentally flirting.”
Landry shrugs. “The policy has changed.”
“Since when?” Loren asks, blinking at me in surprise. I can only imagine what assumptions she’s making about us, since she also knows about my full-chastity policy.
Landry narrows his eyes at her. “Since before it was any of your damned business, Lo-Lo.”
She scoffs. “Fine. I’ll just ask Daisy about it when you’re not around. Maybe she’ll have an explanation for the two of you going home ‘to change’ after Mass and showing up in the exact same outfits.”
He sighs, but a cocky smile creeps across his face.
“Hey, let’s just all take a second to be grateful that Landry’s finally getting laid,” Emmett mumbles quietly, making the rest of them choke back their laughter while the tips of my ears begin to burn. Landry shoots me an apologetic look, but I do my best to weather the storm, because I don’t want him to think their teasing bothers me.
Lilley swats at her husband’s shoulder. “That’s not funny,” she scolds him, though she’s biting back a smile.
“At least someone’s getting laid this week,” Blake grumbles and forces a frown, and Loren rolls her eyes.
“Well, pardon me for ovulating, sir,” she retorts, and he walks up behind her, wraps her up in his arms, and places a kiss on her neck. I wait for Landry to express his disgust, but he doesn’t even grunt or growl. In fact, he laughs at them.
Landry’s mom comes into the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts. She holds Charley in her arms while Lilley’s daughter follows, carrying Penny.
“Oh, Daisy, I’m so glad you’re here,” Ms. Lana says as soon as she sees me, and I think I see something pass across Loren’s face.
“Thanks for having me. Um, I made—I mean, wetriedto make my mom’s famous bread pudding,” I reply, gesturing toward the dish Lilley set down on the stove earlier.
“My favorite. How are your parents?” she asks warmly as she hands Charley back to Loren and goes to the stove. Loren forces a smile and clutches Charley close, and Blake rubs her arm as if he’s comforting her. I thought things had been going well for Loren and her mom lately, but maybe I was wrong.
“My parents? Oh, they’re great,” I reply absently.
“This smells amazing.” Ms. Lana turns to smile at us. “Did you help, Lan?”
“Yeah,” he says flatly, his eyes fixed on Loren.
“Now that everyone’s here, are we ready to open gifts?” Lilley asks when she senses the tension. The others fake their enthusiasm and pile into the small living room where Landry’s dad is already stationed in his recliner. He barely glances away from the football game he’s watching with Lilley’s son when we pass him.
Landry leads me over to another chair in the far corner of the room and pulls me down onto his lap after he sits. I do my best to maintain my composure as he cups his hand around my side and slips his thumb beneath the hem of my blouse. He rubs gentle circles over my lower back, making me shiver, and I make a mental note to add more separate skirt-and-shirt combos to my wardrobe. But I don’t think he intends for the contact to be sexy, judging by his lengthy exhale.
I scoot in closer and drape my arm around his shoulders, and he looks up at me with a sad smile, confirming my suspicions. He’s never had an aversion to my touch at all. In fact, I think he might need the physical contact to ground him.
I use my fingertips to mimic his movements over the back of his neck, and I watch as his whole body relaxes. My insides turn all warm and gooey again when the realization hits me—physical touch must be one of Landry’s love languages.
Well, I’ll be?—
The sound of a throat clearing makes me flinch. “Santa, Mrs. Claus,” Blake drawls as he hands me a small stack of presents, and I’m forced to use both of my arms to take them. “As you were,” he leans in and says quietly with a wink.
After all of the gifts have been opened, everyone goes into the kitchen to serve dinner before returning to the living room, and I’m relieved this isn’t a formal table gathering. Landry sits on the floor, giving me the chair. But all he does is move his food around on his plate, and I can tell he’s counting down the minutes until we can go.
Once I’m done, he stands and takes our dishes to the kitchen while the rest of his family has desert. The bread pudding gets rave reviews from everyone. Well, everyone except Landry’s dad. Despite the way he finished off a decent-sized serving, he grunts disapprovingly after Ms. Lana reminds the whole family that Landry helped me bake it.
We take another turn playing with the twins, which seems to cheer Landry up a bit, as does the college football debate he has with his nephew and Blake. Until his dad chimes in to contradict him.
I can’t help it when I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. I don’t usually let this kind of stuff get to me, but there’s only so much I can take.
I might be channeling my inner Landry when I lean over to drape my arms over his shoulders and whisper, “When are you gonna take me home, Santa?” a little too loudly.
His eyebrows nearly reach his hairline, and he tilts his head back to blink up at me, looking dazed. “Say the word, Blondie.”
I smirk and tuck my hair behind my ears, and he wastes no time in standing and going around the room to dole out goodbyes. His dad rises to shake his hand, which doesn’t impress me much. But the last straw is when I overhear the man telling his son, “Don’t screw that up—you know how you are.”
