Epilogue
Christmas morning
M allory stood in front of the Christmas tree in her fuzzy slippers, allowing the sunrise to bathe over her through the windows. The white lights on the tree twinkled at her like hundreds of tiny promises.
Braveheart looked up from where he was curled up on the quilted tree skirt to give her an adoring look.
“Merry Christmas, Braveheart!” She blew him a kiss.
He gave a low, muted woof and laid his head back down on his paws.
“Thank you, God,” she whispered, not ready to wake Tucker.
Between the ranch and his private investigator duties, he’d been putting in long hours all week.
He was exhausted. Despite his extensive background in law enforcement, he was still the new guy on the totem pole at Lonestar Security.
For that reason, he’d been on call for them Christmas Eve.
She was pretty sure he’d volunteered for the holiday shift to show his gratitude for everything they’d done for him, but still.
My man is a hardworking man! She couldn’t have been prouder of him. At the age of thirty-one, he was starting his third career, one that would keep him in Heart Lake, Lord willing.
With me. She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
A few months ago, she couldn’t have imagined being this happy.
Sure, she would relive bittersweet memories today of family holidays gone by, but her new husband would temper her sadness with the joy of spending their first Christmas together.
He’d offered to swoop her out of town on a honeymoon, but she’d insisted she’d rather be home for Christmas.
His arms came around her from behind, making her jump.
Fortunately, he curled one large hand around her mug of coffee as it started to tip.
She’d been wallowing so deep in nostalgia that she hadn’t heard him enter the room.
Then again, he was trained to be stealthy.
She might not have heard his approach regardless.
“Merry Christmas, Mal.” He pressed a tender kiss to the side of her neck. “Nice PJs.”
“Thanks!” She glanced down at herself, snickering at the satin white shirt and shorts she had on. It had silly cats in cowboy hats printed on it. “If you want to see me in something slinkier, you’ll have to buy it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He pressed another kiss to the side of her neck before stepping away to set her mug on the end table beside the sofa. “You’re actually wearing the perfect outfit for your first gift.”
“I am?” First gift? Her heart sank. She’d only purchased one gift for him.
She watched, mystified, as he left the room and returned with a large square box. It was wrapped in shiny metallic-gold paper. Scuffling sounds were coming from inside it.
“What in the world?” She reached for the box, dying to know what was inside. Admittedly, she was a little distracted by the sight of her husband in his black muscle shirt, gray sweats, and bare feet. Tucker in uniform was smoking hot. Tucker out of uniform was utterly breathtaking.
“Careful,” he cautioned, lifting the lid off the box for her.
Braveheart jumped to his feet, barking in excitement and wagging his tail frenziedly while Mallory took her first peek.
“Ohhhhhh,” she breathed, gazing down at the two fuzzy little creatures inside. “Kittens! You really do love me!” One was white with Holstein-like black spots. The other boasted beautiful ginger stripes that reminded her of a cinnamon roll.
“More than my own life,” Tucker agreed, reaching inside the box to lift the kittens out, one in each hand. He waited until she set the box down before depositing the Holstein-colored one in her outstretched arms.
“He’s so soft!” She cuddled him against her satin PJs.
“She,” Tucker corrected. “The ginger one is the boy. I’ve been told they were fostered together, so they’re already friends.”
“Besties,” she murmured happily. “Oh, you precious babies! What should we name them?”
“Whatever you want, darling.” He grinned indulgently at her. “They’re your Christmas gifts.”
“Jellybean.” She gave a happy chuckle as she raised the fuzzy black-and-white kitten to get a better look at her. “That’s exactly what her black spots look like.”
“Now that you mention it.” He held out the ginger kitten so she could give him a closer inspection. “My vote is for something a little manlier for this fella.”
Braveheart placed his front paws on Tucker’s knee and rose to his hind feet to sniff at the kitten.
The ball of ginger fluff hissed and batted his tiny paws at Braveheart.
“Fierce!” Mallory cocked her head at his adorably pointy ears and flailing paws. “How about Fox?”
“I like it. I think he approves, too.” Tucker set the feisty kitten on his chest and let him climb up his shirt to put more distance between him and Braveheart.
“Your turn.” She couldn’t wait for Tucker to open her gift to him. “I really, really, really hope what I got for you wasn’t a bad idea.”
His eyebrows rose. “I’m intrigued.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “It’s not a vacuum. I promise. And it’s not in any way a hint for you to work harder than you already do. It just felt like the right gift when I saw it, but now I’m second-guessing myself.” She knew she was babbling, but she was too nervous to stop.
Humor filled his gaze. “Whatever it is, I promise we’ll still be married after I open it.”
“I’m holding you to it.” She walked behind the sofa and nudged the enormous box forward with the toe of her fuzzy sock. It was nearly big enough for her to climb inside and heavy enough to make a scraping sound along the floor.
Tucker cocked his head at the box. “Any reason my gift isn’t under the tree? I kept mine in the other room because of the noise it was making, but this one isn’t rocking or rattling. ”
“Yes,” she snickered. “I wasn’t sure if you were a box shaker. Didn’t want any peeking to take place.”
“I’m not a box shaker.” He handed her the other kitten before bending to pick up his gift, pretending to stagger beneath its weight. “You sure it’s not a vacuum?”
“One way to find out,” she taunted. Please like it! Please like it! She held her breath as he tore off a penny-sized piece of the candy-apple paper she’d wrapped it in. “Hurry up,” she urged. “I’m literally dying inside.”
“Oh, hug your cats and zip it, Zippie!” He winked at her before tearing into the paper.
A Ninja skillet set appeared—the biggest one she could find with the most pieces.
“You’re right.” Approval glinted in his gaze as he whistled over the gift. “It’s not a vacuum.” He carried it to the kitchen and set it on the bar. Then he returned to her, startling the kittens as he planted a very thorough kiss of gratitude on her. “It’s the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She set Jellybean and Fox back in their box. They lightly bopped noses and curled up together. To her delight, Braveheart settled himself down beside the box, sniffing at the corner of it.
“It’s the nicest gift and probably the most self-serving.” Tucker waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Maybe a teensy bit,” she admitted, squeezing her thumb and forefinger together to emphasize how little the self-service element amounted to. “In my defense, I did disclose my lack of cooking skills before the wedding.”
“You did.” He reached for her hand and spun her in a circle before cuddling her closer.
“And since you said you enjoy cooking, I didn’t want you to have to suffer through the hodgepodge of pots and pans currently rusticating in my kitchen drawers.” She rarely pulled them out. Up to this point, she’d survived on takeout and stuff she could warm on a paper plate in the microwave.
“I love your gift.” He swayed with her from side to side in a deliciously slow dance. “I love the giver even more.”
“I love you, too.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “Merry first Christmas together!”
He caught her hand against his cheek. “Oh, we’re just getting started, darling.”
“I know,” she said dreamily. “Our first of many Christmases together.”
He brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her fingers. “I meant this Christmas is just getting started.”
She watched, open-mouthed, as he held up a finger and backed away from her. This time, he didn’t leave the room. He walked to the front door and opened it.
A tall, skinny teenager was standing on the other side. His cheeks were red from the cold, and the FBI supervisor hovering at his side was beaming a smile bright enough to compete with the sunrise.
“Chip!” Mallory screamed his name, waking the kittens and making them meow in alarm, as she flew to the door with her arms outstretched.
With Pete Flournoy’s encouraging nod, Chip Silva eagerly stepped across the threshold to envelop her in a bear hug. “Hey, sis!” He snickered at her outfit. “Nice PJs.”
“I know. Tucker already told me.” She laughed and cried all over him, making him grin bashfully. “This is the best Christmas ever! Kittens and a brother. It seriously doesn’t get any better than this!”
“Welcome home, Chip!” Tucker swung his hand around Mallory.
Chip shook it, looking a little overwhelmed. “Are y’all sure about this? The rest of the world ain’t exactly beating down jail cell doors to spring out jacked-up teenagers.”
“We’re sure.” Mallory was beside herself with joy. “You give us any trouble, and you’ll be mucking out stalls until the end of your days,” she warned playfully.
“Thank you.” Tucker gestured for Pete to come inside, but his former regional manager shook his head.
“Gotta keep moving.”
“Understood.” Tucker propped a hand against the door jamb. “Thanks again for making this happen.” He’d been hoping, but it was Christmas Day. Pete could’ve just as easily cancelled on him.
“My pleasure. The FBI is grateful for your service.” Pete half turned away from him. “If you change your mind about coming back…” He left the words hanging between them in the biting wind sweeping across the front porch.