Sweet On You - By Kate Perry Page 0,45

his jaw.

He kissed her palm. "What do you want to do tonight? I have a couple excellent suggestions."

"Both of which probably exclude clothing."

"No. I'm perfectly happy letting you wear those red shoes."

Grinning, she pulled him down and gave a loud kiss. "Have I told you how happy I am? Which is incredible, when you consider the season."

"I'd have thought someone like you would love Christmas."

"Someone like me?" she asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

"Full of light. Sweet." He kissed her and, like always, was surprised just how sweet she tasted.

She hummed, licking her lips when he lifted his head. "You're implying that 'someone like you' doesn't like Christmas."

"I don't." He sat up, but he kept his hand on her leg. He couldn't not touch her. "Christmas wasn't a great time of year in my household growing up."

She sat up, studying him solemnly. Finally, she said, simply, "I'm sorry for that."

"The past is the past."

"I wish I could have shared my grandmother with you. She did Christmas big." She took his hand, her expression soft. "My first memories are of Christmas. She used to decorate every inch of her house, and I'm not exaggerating. She had lights and holly on everything. She made my Nonni put up so many figures and lights outside their house that he complained it took him a week to finish. Theirs was the house you'd drive by at night to gawk at."

His childhood residence had been one to drive by as well—to drive by and shoot at. "You love your grandmother."

"She was amazing. She's the reason I bake. My first memories are of me sitting on her counter, helping her. By 'helping,' I mean I'd eat the fistful of raw dough she'd give me to play with. She'd play Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and Bing Crosby in the background, and sometimes she'd pick me up and dance. When I got older, we'd plan all the cookies we're going to make weeks ahead of time, and then we'd spend a week baking from dawn till late at night." Some of the light in her eyes dimmed. "Nonna died last year before Christmas."

He caressed her hair away from her face. "And it's not the same?"

"Not at all." She pursed her lips. "Although, this year is better. I think because I have a purpose with the soup kitchen. And because there's that family squatting in the building."

"I don't understand."

"I realized they probably won't have Christmas. Maybe they never have." Her brow furrowed at the thought. "It's just awful to think that."

He was torn between wanting to protect her naïveté and instructing her on how the real world worked. "That's life."

"It doesn't have to be." Her face lit up, fiery, like an unbending goddess. "If people just did a little something, things could change."

"Things only change for people who make it happen."

"I'm going to change things." She lifted her adorable chin. "I bought them Christmas presents."

He gazed at her steadily, not letting any of his thoughts show on his face. He was both endeared and irritated by her devotion to that homeless family. "It seems like more than enough that you take them food."

"It's not enough."

"It's also not your responsibility."

She frowned at him. "If I don't take responsibility, those kids will starve and freeze to death."

"They're street kids. They know how to take care of themselves."

"They're kids." She glared at him, pulling back. "No kids should have to take care of themselves."

But that wasn't how the world worked. He felt that hardened spot in his chest pulse righteously. Some kids didn't luck out. Some kids ended up dead.

"You don't agree." Daniela's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "You don't give a damn about them."

"They don't have to be where they are."

"They're kids," she yelled at him.

"They have a choice."

"Easy for you to say."

It was, because he'd been there. "You aren't going to be able to be their guardian angel forever, you know. You're headed for heartbreak. They're on the street because they don't have it in them to be anywhere else."

She got up to her knees, pointing at him. "You're the Grinch."

"Yes, I am. And I'm a realist, and no number of presents is going to help those kids in their situation."

"Well, I'm not inviting you to help me deliver them."

He narrowed his eyes. "And, yet, I'm still going with you."

She folded her arms and glared. Then she grabbed his shirt and kissed him hard. "You infuriate me, but thank you. For going with me," she added