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The pause was so long she turned to look at him. “Ah, yes.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck which she knew was his tell that he was . . . “Why are you looking twitchy?”

Immediately he brought his hand away. “I’m not.”

“Should I open the window now?”

His shoulders lifted in one of his famous shrugs. Another telltale sign. “Whenever you want.”

“If it’s something we need to do this morning—”

“It doesn’t matter when we do it.” He walked over to the fridge and yanked open the door. “Turkey.” His gaze snapped round to hers. “Don’t we need to do something with the turkey? Last year we didn’t eat it until midnight.”

Laughter burst out of her. “That was entirely your fault. You and your need to make good on all your promises.”

His eyes heated and he slammed the door shut. “I can do the same today.” He took one step towards her, the intensity in his expression sending lust burning through her. “We should make it one of those Christmas traditions you’re so fond of.”

“We’re already halfway there,” she croaked. How was it possible she was this aroused when she’d started the day with two orgasms?

His mouth curved in a smug smile. “Best way to wake up. Sliding into your—”

Jack’s plaintive meow cut through Luke’s dirty talk and guilt wriggled through her. “Oh, poor boy, you haven’t been fed yet.”

Luke let out a big old sigh and muttered something about Jack getting way too much attention.

“Aw, feeling neglected, huh?” She planted a kiss on Luke’s cheek and went to get Jack his late breakfast. As she fed him, she noticed Luke pick up the advent calendar, then heave out a sigh and put it back on the kitchen table.

There was definitely something behind window twenty-five that he was worried about.

“So, the turkey.” He looked at his watch—Colin’s Rolex. The one she’d given him last Christmas, when they’d finally got round to opening presents. She’d been pleased with it, until she’d opened his to her. It hadn’t just been that he’d given her an easel and a beautiful set of brushes and watercolors. It had been the thought behind it that had blown her away. The fact he’d remembered she’d said she had no room at the studio, but had pointed out now she had the room. The fact he’d gone back to the art studio where they’d had their painting session and asked the advice of the teacher there on what to buy.

“Since when are you so worried about the turkey?” She peered at him closely. “If I remember, when Pearl invited us around for Thanksgiving you were less than enthusiastic.”

“That’s not fair,” he argued. “It wasn’t the turkey I had a problem with. Or Pearl.” It was true, the pair of them got on like a house on fire now he no longer worried about letting down his guard with her. “It was the timing.”

“You’d had ample opportunity to have your wicked way with me,” she pointed out, feeling a rush of heat at the memory of that day. He’d definitely taken his opportunities.

“I didn’t know the sight of you in that dress was going to make me lose my mind,” he grumbled.

“Maybe I should put it on now.” She winked. “Then you might forget all about the turkey and we could do . . . whatever it is you’ve planned under window twenty-five.”

He sighed again and drew a hand down his face. “I’m starting to regret it now.”

“You’re regretting what you wrote there?”

“No . . .” His eyes blinked shut and the muscle in his jaw gave a little jump. “Maybe we should just get this over and done with.”

He looked so pained, she was starting to get worried. “So to be clear, you don’t want to take back what you wrote, but you don’t want to do what it says? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it probably won’t make sense when you open it, either.” He tugged at his hair, his whole body radiating anxiety, frustration. “You’ll probably hate the idea.”

“But you wrote it in there anyway?”

He made a grunting noise. “It seemed like a good way to do it at the time.”

“Do it?”

He snatched the advent off the table and thrust it into her hands. “Just open the damn thing.”