A Billionaire's Holiday Love - Posey Parks Page 0,26
Donating one hundred thousand to the town's toy drive was motivation for the doctor's complete rapid STD testing.
Me and Hope’s cabins were the only ones on our side of the mountain. My two-story home was at the front of the five-acre lot.
The delivery guys left the new tubs and appliances, then hauled the old pieces away.
“Hope, I’m back,” I called out as I entered her cabin.
“I’m in the bedroom.”
I leaned against the doorway. “Are you ready?”
“To tackle the bathroom. Absolutely. I can’t wait to have my very own oasis,” she grinned.
“Next year, will you join me here for Christmas?”
“In your cute cabin. Maybe.”
“Not funny.” She strutted into the bathroom wearing a black Ms. Clause red T-shirt.
“I can’t wait to use the heated floors,” she beamed.
“Are you really selling your family home?”
“My mom doesn’t want me to sell.”
“I’m with your mom. But it’s ultimately your decision.”
I turned her to face the gigantic mirror we installed. “Do you like our work?”
“I love all of our work.”
Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I smiled. “Good.”
“Noah, we need to talk.”
Fuck, the words I dreaded fell from her pouty lips.
“About?”
She held my arms. “Your hatred toward Christmas.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. I enjoy Thanksgiving, New Year's Eve, Memorial Day, The Fourth of July. And even though I’m Italian, St. Patrick’s Day is one to be celebrated every year.”
Her face fell flat.
“Did you ever like Christmas?”
“Yeah, growing up I looked forward to it every year, then one day I didn’t.”
I released her and squeezed the messy dark brown bun on top of her head.
“There’s a present for you in the living room.”
Yup, best to give it to her now. Maybe she’d drop the subject.
“Did you celebrate Christmas here every year?”
“Yes. My mom and dad didn’t have much. My grandparents weren’t poor. They were middle class. They made it a point to purchase our plane tickets and gave my brothers and I the toys my parents couldn’t afford. I didn’t care about the gifts. Being together was all that mattered.”
I stalked toward the living room, clutching her hand.
“Noah, let me help you heal. Something happened in your life that made you hate this holiday.”
Not just one thing.
Spinning her, I caressed her face. “Hope, let it go.”
“I won’t. You can’t say I’m your woman and shut me out. Starting a relationship like this is sure to end in disaster.”
“Give me a little more time. Being here. On this mountain brings back so many good memories and...”
“Some bad.”
“Hope, the gift.” I planted my lips against her forehead, then extended my hand. Her eyes bulged as they landed on the package.
“Wow.” Strutting across the room, she shot daggers back at me. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“Didn’t think it would be.” I stepped over and watched as she unwrapped the gift.
“This is a state-of-the-art commercial sewing machine with a table.”
“I thought we’d stay a few extra days into the new year. Give you time to sew on vacation.”
Her soft gaze met mine. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Hope, I plan to tell you everything. I just don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
Her breasts slammed against my chest as her fingers tugged my neck, bending my body until our lips touched. “Not a chance, big guy.”
My lips devoured hers. She was the one. How did I luck up and find the woman of my dreams here? What was this holiday season trying to share? A Christmas miracle?
“Oh, and the guys dropped off a brand-new Sorry, Monopoly, and a trivia game.” I pointed toward the dining table.
“It’s over for you.” She broke our embrace and darted back into the bathroom.
“If I win, you have to help me actively select a Christmas tree.”
“I sighed as I picked up a caulking gun. You’re on.”
She danced in place. “You’re going down.”
HOPE
CUPPING MY GLOVED HANDS over my mouth, I beamed with excitement in the mist of the tree farm.
Mr. Growly was back. “Noah, thanks for helping me select a tree.”
I hugged him tight.
“You beat me three times. I still can’t believe that happened,” he muttered.
“Believe it.” My lips pressed against his.
The first night we played board games. The second night, wrapped in Noah’s arms on the sofa at my place, we watched a movie on my new seventy-five-inch TV. I told Noah we didn’t need TV’s that big. But he ordered them without my knowing. Surprisingly, he didn’t fall asleep.
I turned and trudged through the bright white snow. Surrounded by the best trees’ money could buy, I pressed my gloved finger against my