in a pink Santa hat, each holding a Christmas offering, and each with a pop-up chair slung over her shoulder, chimed in with a “Merry Christmas.”
All three women stood on the stoop and blinked up innocently at her, and Regan got a bad feeling in her gut. She eased the door a little more closed than open and placed her body between the welcoming committee and the entrance to her house.
“Merry Christmas,” Regan replied, tugging down the bottom of her shirt, which felt like it was creeping up, and hoped she looked halfway presentable. Her cheeks were still flushed and her breath was coming in low spurts. Partly from the jog and partly from Gabe’s magical lips.
“Mommy.” Holly nudged at her legs and gracefully squirmed her way around them to face their visitors. “It’s not polite to leave guests standing on the front porch. You invite them inside and offer them a drink.”
“And some would say it’s not polite to drop in unannounced,” Gabe murmured from behind.
“Says the man hiding in the bushes,” ChiChi said, pushing her way inside. “Plus, we’re here on official committee business.”
Lucinda followed holding Mr. Puffins, looking dashing in a green Christmas tree dress with a star Velcroed to his head. Pricilla waddled through the door, but not before delivering a grandmotherly kiss, one to Holly and one to Regan, and digging through her crocheted handbag to offer both of them peppermint lollipops.
“Thank you.” Holly beamed as she led them into the house.
Each granny set her plate on the counter and took her place in the family room in front of the tree. ChiChi set up her chair and the other ladies followed, even popping up a mini red and green one that was Holly-sized.
Which left Regan standing at the front door, staring up into the eyes of one sexy vintner. Not sure what to say or do with her hands, she settled on a lame smile. Then felt her cheeks heat when she thought of what they had almost done in the alley below.
Gabe leaned in, his eyes dropping to her shirt, and whispered, “My thoughts exactly.”
She looked down and felt the embarrassment rise. In her panicked state she had grabbed one of Holly’s shirts. It was tiny enough to smash her breasts, white enough to pass for wet T-shirt attire, and had Prrrrrr scrawled across the chest in pink. And poking out, just above the top curve of the second and fifth R, was hard evidence that she was still turned on.
“Yeah, me too,” Gabe said, his lips grazing her ear, before walking through the doorway.
“Here you go.” Regan threaded gold yarn through the last tinfoil star and handed it to Gabe, a tingle shooting through her body when he purposefully ran a thumb along the underside of her wrist.
The Mrs. Clauses had arrived with cookies, cocoa, hot buttered wine—everything needed for a Christmas tree decorating party, including a few ornaments to add to their collection. And they had helped Holly find the perfect place for each one. The way they treated her daughter, went out of their way to hug her and make her feel special, touched Regan deeply. But what had melted her heart were the contents of the bag that Gabe dropped by the front door.
It wasn’t filled with expensive presents or store-bought decorations. Gabe had brought tinfoil, yarn, tissue paper, popcorn—all the things needed to create a homemade Christmas tree. And Holly had been thrilled.
“One North Star, coming up.” He pasted a piece of tape to the yarn and passed it up to Holly, who giggled and took the handmade decoration.
Holly tapped her tiny finger against her chin and scanned the ceiling before pointing to the corner on the far side of the room. “Over there.”
“As the lady wishes.” Gabe carefully stepped around to the other side of the tree.
And that was exactly how they’d spent the last hour. The Mrs. Clauses stringing popcorn and shouting strict directions from their thrones. Holly perched on Gabe’s shoulder, sticking hundreds of tinfoil stars and tissue paper snowflakes to the ceiling to complete the illusion of a Winter Wonderland. And Regan wondering if her new friends understood just what a gift they had given her and her daughter.
“Not there,” ChiChi said from her chair, shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth and using a laser pointer to make a red X on the star in question. “It needs to be right above the tree.” The laser flew to the spot on the