I ran my lips together, warm from her surprise kiss. The last time someone had kissed me for no particular reason was… so long ago that it stunned me. I stood there, frozen, touching my lips like it was my first time.
Kissing was a means to an end, a promise of pleasure. But hers was not that. Her lips had been cold, and the peck was too quick; but the gesture stayed with me long after she’d taken off upstairs, leaving me on the bottom floor. If I didn’t get busy, I’d think of all the reasons why I wanted another blitz-kiss.
I found a duffel bag in the closet and gently placed Becca’s gifts in there.
I got it. I understood why they loved her so much. I imagined what each gift might be and how she would react to it. She struck me as someone who would find joy in anything given to her, yet she would prefer something handmade over a gift card any day of the week. I chose gift cards because they were easier. The final box barely fit in the bag, but I zipped it up just as her footsteps thudded downstairs.
“How are the windows up there?” I asked.
“Still intact! I can’t believe it. I mean, it’s colder than a witch’s tit up there, but no more shattered windows. You find anything down here?”
“Nope.” I paused and almost snorted. “A witch’s tit, huh?”
“It’s an expression my dad always said. It’s weird, I know, but I can’t help it. Every time I asked the time, he would always say it’shalf-past a freckle. One of those dumb dad-isms. Don’t your parents have sayings you adopted unwillingly?”
“Ah, not that I know of.”
“Doubtful. Think about it.” She eyed the bag in my hand and tilted her head. “What’s in there?”
“All your gifts. It’s Christmas Eve, so you’ll get to open them tomorrow. I don’t have a tree, though.”
When was the last time I cared about having a tree? Years? Decades?Vivian had bought a live evergreen for the one holiday we were together as a married couple, but I couldn’t even picture what it looked like. I didn’t help her decorate it. Never cared to. Huh, maybe I was a grinch?
“We could steal this one?” She pointed to her decorated tree filled with brightly colored ornaments, garlands of popcorn, and pictures of girls. “The girls won’t care.”
“We’re not taking that thing across the yard in this weather.”
Her face fell, and I felt like a real schmuck for not decorating at all this year. Blair even gave me crap for not putting up lights.
You’re a real scrooge, Harrison.
Scrooge, grinch, grump.That was me.
She sighed before nodding. “You’re being the rational one. Good call.”
“We’ll Christmas the shit out of my house when we get back.” I needed to rectify her frown immediately.
“Yeah? What does that even mean?”
“Not sure, but we’ll decorate, drink hot chocolate, and make the place more cheery.”
I couldn’t believe the words escaping my mouth. My ex had said I didn’t have the holiday gene, and my family complained about my obsession with football. But Becca’s grin stretched across her face, and her eyes widened with joy.
Worth it.
“Let’s Christmas theshitout of your house! I already have so many ideas!” She ran toward the door, barely waiting for me to follow her.
A bubble of excitement washed over me as I thought about the holidays. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years off the football field, and even the wind couldn’t put a damper on my sudden good mood.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BECCA
Instead of a tree, Harrison found a two-foot-tall Snoopy wearing a Santa outfit. He stood in the center of the room with a red blanket around him while I dug through the one measly sized Christmas storage box containing two plain red stockings, a weathered wreath, garland, and a snowman candle. That was it.
I held up the odd candle, my brow arched. “Um, what is this?”
“Who, you mean. That’s Ballsy.”
