Page 120 of Mistletoe All the Way

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she says, hope lacing the word.

“Nights like this,” I continue.

“They are,” she agrees, letting out a long, tired sigh as the pieces click into place for me.

On-screen, the leads figure out how to share one bed for the holidays.

The answer is the holidays.

It’s so obvious, I nearly missed it. “Eloise,” I begin, sitting up straighter.

There’s a pause, then a soft, “Yes?”

“Next year… If I’m single, which I will be, and you’re—”

“Single?” She asks it quickly, more quickly than her prior answers.

“Yes,” I say, and this feels right. A promise. A possibility. A hope. “When I’m more settled into the practice and have more time. When you’re settled into the new firm. Maybe if we’re still single next Christmas… we could try then.”

A quiet hum comes from her. A gentle yes. Her eyes flutter closed as she rests her head in my lap.

I stroke her hair, picturing nights like this.

Maybe next year.

38 STRIPPER SANTA

Eloise

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.

I’m pulling on my red sweater covered in candy cane illustrations, hoping the package shows up before we have to leave for the town square. Once there, Noah needs to deliver on this final challenge since, by my calculations, he’s a little behind Henry—and even Stephen.

Blurgh.

Every little detail matters. Like the outfit. I cinch my snowflake necklace—handmade by Fable—then click to check the tracking number once more.

Before I can react, the scrabble of paws hits my ears. Noah must be back from his walk with Rusty. I head over to the door and swing it open and—

“Hallelujah!”

He’s carrying the package.

“Are we still doing this?” he asks skeptically, waggling the box as Rusty rushes inside to slather me with love—his MO.

“You’re not backing out now,” I say, adjusting the Santa Paws bandana I gave Rusty, but talking to the man. “This was your idea, mister!”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles.

Five interminable minutes later, with Rusty waiting patiently with me in the living room, the clack of steel-toed boots echoes across my apartment. Cue the bow-chicka-wow-wow. My jaw comes unhinged. My mouth waters. He’s like a Christmas superhero.

Dr. Noah Lennox is wearing a long red faux-leather duster trimmed in fake white fur, red cowboy boots, red jeans, and a white cowboy hat with red trim.

The only other item of clothing? A tight white shirt that shows off his strong pecs—toned from hard work hauling hay and helping animals.

And all that work has turned him into…