Page 20 of Baby, It’s Hotter Inside

“Exactly. Will you be mine?”

I give him a watery laugh. “I think that’s a Valentine’s thing.”

“Well, now it’s a Christmas thing. Or just an everyday thing.” And just like that, all the lights come back on and the whole town is lit up like a perfect Christmas village. Well minus the cold weather and snow.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I’ll be yours. I think I might already love you. Is that crazy?” I bite down on my lip, nervous at my admission.

“No, it’s not crazy because I’m pretty sure I already love you, too.”

And then he kisses me and the town around us cheers.

epilogue

Ginger

One Year Later...

“Wake up, sleepy head.”

Brock’s voice filters into my dreams and I smile.

“I’m not ready to wake up. I was having an incredibly sexy dream about you.”

He kisses my eyelids, then my nose, then each cheek. “Wake up and we can act it out.”

I crack open one eye and I can’t help the wide grin I give him. “Why are you insisting I get up so early?”

He reaches for my hands and pulls me to my feet. “I want to show you something.”

I follow behind him as he leads me down the staircase to our living room. We moved in together six months ago, into the most adorable bungalow. He repurposed the apartment over his gallery to house the visiting artists and everything he’s done has been so great for the town. And I’ve never been happier. The lights are out, but the Christmas tree in front of the big picture window is all illuminated. My heart swells and I squeeze his hand.

“I love you,” I tell him.

He turns around to wink at me. “I know you do.”

I roll my eyes. I think back to that night, a year ago, when he first told me he loved me. After we left the town lighting and went back to his place. He’d sat me in the middle of his bed and pulled out a box from underneath. I’d opened it to find five years’ worth of postcards he’d written me and never sent. I smile at the memory and squeeze his hand.

“Come sit.” He drags me over to the rug in front of the seven-foot fir tree. “Tonight starts your parents’ parties.”

“I know. I can’t believe they’re doing another twelve days thing. You’d think all the drama from last year would have changed that.”

“Well the fundraiser was a huge success.” He gets down on the floor with me, and reaching into the tree he pulls out a gift bag. “I have something special I want you to wear tonight.”

A frown weighs down my brow. He never makes comments about my clothing other than to tell me when he thinks I look beautiful. “Do you know what the theme is? My mom wouldn’t tell me.”

“Something about Christmas lights or sparkles or something,” he says, then he nods to the gift bag in my lap. “Open it.”

“If this is some skimpy lingerie, I’m not wearing it to my parents’ house.” But my hand doesn’t feel anything silky or soft. Instead, it grabs onto a small velvet box. My heart stops. Yep, I think I might need mouth to mouth to be resuscitated. Still, I pull it out and find an iconic blue box. “Oh my God, Brock.” I look up at him, and I know I’ve got damned tears in my eyes because I can’t do anything without crying.

But he’s kneeling in front of me and has the biggest grin on his face. “Ginger, I love you so damn much I can’t even believe it. I never thought I’d be this happy. But every day you surprise me and make me laugh and turn me on. I should have known when we were kids that we were meant to be, but I was just stupid and I’m so thankful you gave me another shot at getting us right. You’re the love of my life, and you’ll make my Christmas and pretty much my entire life if you’ll be my wife.”

The box is still sitting—unopened—in my palm, but I tackle him to the ground and kiss all over his face. “YES!”

He laughs, picks up the box where I’ve dropped it and opens it for me. “Don’t you want to see your ring?”

It’s simple and delicate and perfect. A round bezel-set single solitaire diamond in a plain platinum band. It’s exactly what I would have picked out myself.

He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly.