Page 72 of Big Santa

I almost smile. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“It made you smile, so no, I’m not.”

She rolls her eyes, but her mouth twitches again.

Then she takes a breath.

“I know it’s not part of our agreement.”

I frown.

“And I’m pretty sure this violates at least one of the guidelines.”

“What does?”

She looks embarrassed now. Actually embarrassed. Color rises into her cheeks.

“Noelle. You can ask me anything.”

“Would you hug me?”

Everything inside me goes still.

She rushes on before I can answer. “Just for a minute. I know that’s probably weird, and you absolutely don’t have to. I just—Grandma used to give really good hugs, and Josie isn’t here, and Dottie is asleep, and I could wake her up, but that seems dramatic, and Shiloh is four, so obviously I’m not going to wake him up because I’m sad, and⁠—”

“Noelle.”

She stops.

“Come here.”

Her lips part.

I open my arms.

That’s all it takes.

She moves.

One second she’s sitting beside me.

The next she’s against me. I take it a step further and lift her onto my lap.

And— Fuck. I knew she was soft. I’ve spent three weeks trying not to think about exactly how soft.

Knowing is not the same as having her pressed against me.

Her arms go around my middle. Her face buries against my chest. I wrap both arms around her and pull her in.

All the way in. Her body fits against mine like it belongs there. Small and warm and soft. She lets out one shaky breath. Then another.

My hand settles against the back of her head.

Her hair is loose tonight. Silky against my fingers. I shouldn’t notice that. I notice everything.

The weight of her against me. The curve of her hip under my hand. The damp heat of her tears on my chest. The way she smells like vanilla and whatever lotion she puts on before bed.