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He watches me cross the room. “We’re done.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“You know exactly like what.”

I stop in front of him.

“I’m pretty sure someone didn’t get her picture with Santa.”

His eyes narrow.

“I seem to remember you taking several.”

“Of other people.”

“Noelle.”

“I waited very patiently.”

“You’ve been tormenting me for three hours.”

“Christmas is about giving, Maverick.”

His mouth twitches.

“Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And what exactly would you like Santa to give you?”

I step between his knees.

His hands immediately settle on my hips.

I smile.

“Well, that’s a very personal question.”

“You brought it up.”

“I did.”

His thumbs stroke over my waist.

“Sit down, wife.”

I climb onto his lap.

Exactly where I’ve wanted to be all afternoon.

His arms close around me.

“Better?”