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“Why are you guys being weird?” Diane asks, looking around the room. “I for one am thrilled that Brooks is dating Molly.”

“It’s about time,” Mr. Windell says dryly.

Brooks runs a hand through his hair and heaves a resigned sigh. “Well, at least we don’t have to keep this a secret anymore?”

“The silver lining?” I smile up at him.

Madden clears his throat loudly. “I believe you have one more present to open.”

Brooks eyes the small present warily, then picks it up. He shakes it a few times, then opens it tentatively, like something’s going to jump out at him.

When the box is finally open, he laughs and pulls out a branch of mistletoe. Holding it above us with one hand, he gives me that irresistible smolder that I remember from the hot tub in Vermont.

I bring my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks in my palms. I smile before pulling his face down closer to mine. Brooks’s free hand lands on my waist and pulls me closer to him, his fingertips grazing the sliver of skin that’s exposed just above my jeans. I close the distance between us, unable to resist his lips any longer. He stills, letting me lead, but his lips are soft and pliant against mine. I kiss him leisurely; I’m in no hurry.

The adults whistle and clap, but the kids make gagging noises. I can feel Brooks smiling against my lips. When we pull apart and I look into his eyes, I have an overwhelming feeling of contentment … despite knowing a bunch of older women will see my boyfriend nude in a few months.

Chapter 32

Brooks

I’m heading into work early the next morning, feeling like a mean boss opening the office up the day after Christmas … but in my defense, everyone was off the entire time Molly and I were in Vermont. Except for the few times Hope went in to check messages, but I gave her a nice Christmas bonus, so I think she’ll be okay.

Yesterday was incredible, and I’m still on a high from it. I’ve always loved Christmas. The presents, the food, the music. What’s not to love?

But having Molly there with me made it even better. Watching her interact with my family, playing with my nieces and nephews, and sitting next to her while we opened presents. It was everything I’d never allowed myself to dream of. Everything I didn’t think I’d ever get to experience.

I can’t manage to wipe the smile off my face as I walk inside the office. Hope is sitting at the front desk, as usual. But today, she’s grinning like a fool and eyeing me with a knowing look.

“Good morning, Hope,” I say, patting the top of her desk with my hand.

“Oh, I bet it is, Mr. Windell. You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning! Any reason for that?” She rests her elbows on the desk, smiling up at me with a mischievous grin.

I pretend not to know what she’s referring to. Molly told me Hope and Layla saw the article and were blowing up her phone with texts yesterday. “I just had a really great Christmas,” I answer with a smile.

She hums and swivels in her chair to grab something out of the printer.

Knowing I have to walk by Layla’s desk as well before reaching Molly, I brace myself for her commentary.

Sure enough, Layla makes a show of looking at her watch. “Wow. So early. Any particular reason you were in such a hurry to get to work today?”

I lean against her desk and feign ignorance. “I just missed you all so much. Five days is way too long.”

“You’re a terrible actor.” She chuckles.

Smiling, I shrug away from her desk and walk toward Molly’s office. I can see her through the glass walls, sitting in her large, leather office chair. Looking impossibly beautiful.

I let myself into her office, and her head tilts up. When she sees me, she grins and stands from her seat. She reaches for me without realizing what she’s doing, and I don’t want to stop her. But she insisted yesterday that we keep things strictly professional at work.

I glance at her outstretched arms and quirk a brow. She grimaces before grabbing one of my hands and shaking it awkwardly.

“Good morning, coworker,” she says formally, then bursts into laughter.

Using our joined hands, I pull her closer to me, close enough that I could lean down and kiss her if she’d let me. “Good morning, muffin butt.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” she pulls her hand out of mine but doesn’t step away.

“It’s kind of stuck now.” I shrug.