Everything had worked out perfectly, as the rest of the family had plans with their partners. We’d get together tomorrow afternoon at Mother’s.
And here it was, finally happening.
The slamming of a door started us laughing.
“Some things never change. That’s Fab’s way of saying hurry up,” I said.
Creole took my hand. “We better get down there before she comes back and starts kicking the door in.”
I stopped midway down the stairs to take in the living room. All the lights, inside and out, had been turned on, and the decorations sparkled. This was my favorite time of year, and I’d especially enjoyed this one with family and friends.
Fab gestured from just inside the French doors. “Drinks are being served out here.” She hadn’t broken from her tradition of wearing black, having chosen a slinky, silk spaghetti-strap dress at the same store where I’d bought my dress. She’d accessorized with red stilettos that I suspected would come off after her first martini.
Earlier, Fab and I had made a seating area in front of the Christmas tree, dragging over two oversized wicker armchairs with ottomans and the copper fire pit that I’d filled with colored glass. Instead of fire, the bottom of the bowl was layered with lights.
“Where’s Didier?” Creole asked.
Fab handed me a red margarita and pointed Creole to a tub of beers. “I don’t know,” she said with a pout.
There was a pounding on the front door. Again.
I looked at Fab. “It’s not you. A little loud for you anyway.”
“Burglars don’t generally knock,” Creole said, “so we’ve got that going for us. You two stay here.”
“Peek through the peephole before you open the door,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” boomed from inside the house.
Fab and I had moved to the doors and peeked our heads inside. Strutting around the corner from the entry came a smoking-hot sexy Santa, booming “Ho, ho, ho” once again.
Fab squealed at her boyfriend, who was decked out in red velvet mid-thigh shorts trimmed in fur, black boots, and a hat, a big sack over his shoulder.
“Have you been a good little girl?” He leered at Fab.
“Of course not.” She ran her fingers down his chest and leaned in, whispering something that had them smiling at one another.
“Santa, you’ve been working out.” My cheeks burned.
“Way to go, dude; show me up,” Creole grumbled.
Didier laughed at him and set his bag down under the stockings hanging off the end of a shelf. “You’re getting coal, pal,” he told Creole.
“We don’t have cookies and milk for you, Santa,” I said.
“This Santa wants a beer.” Didier turned several bottles around, choosing one.
“And what? Drive that sleigh of yours intoxicated?” Creole asked with a laugh that Didier ignored.
“I’m happy we decided to do this,” Fab said with a big smile on her face.
~ ~ ~
Dinner was over, and I was basking in the compliments.
“Since when can you cook like this?” Fab asked.
“I’m a woman of many talents,” I boasted.
We moved back to sitting by the tree.
“Do you know how Fab and I met?” Didier smiled down at Fab, who stuck her tongue out.
“Good thing we’ve got the whole night,” Creole teased.
“Let’s see.” I tapped my cheek. “She spied you across a crowded room and thought to herself, ‘I can’t live without that man.’” I swooned against Creole’s chest, hand to my forehead.
“So dramatic.” Fab’s cheeks turned pink.
“Then…” I burst out, “you woke up tied to her bed. True love.” I sighed.
Creole laughed against my neck. “Your story is missing a few details.”
“Fab saved me.” Didier winked at her. “It happened in the bar at the W. I was waiting for a business associate, who cancelled last-minute, and was about ready to leave when a woman sat down and proceeded to flirt hard, not willing to listen to a polite ‘not interested’ and go away. Next thing I know, Fab appears at the table, beautiful brown eyes snapping, telling the woman to get lost before she shoots her.” He laughed.
“Which you promptly admonished me for in French.” Fab smiled up at him. “The look on your face when I answered back in French was priceless.”
“What happened to the woman?” I asked.
Fab shook her head as if to say, who knows. “Out of the blue, the bartender is announcing last call.”
“I suppose it was love at first encounter,” Creole said, his words tinged with sarcasm.
I crooked my head back. “Romance, babe. I love the story.”
“We’ve been through a lot,” Didier said in a low tone that conveyed how much he loved her.
Fab touched his hand. “The reality was he caught my eye. I watched him fend off that woman’s blatant touchy-feely tricks and felt it was my duty to rescue the most handsome man I’d ever seen.”
“I love you, Fabiana Merceau.” Didier took Fab’s hand, holding it in his. Fab looked up at him expectantly. “We’ve been through some tough times, and yet here we are, each of us always putting the other first. I can’t imagine life without you.”
I snuggled back against Creole’s chest, and he tightened his hold.
“That’s nice and mushy,” Creole said in my ear.
I elbowed him lightly, not daring to laugh lest I ruin the moment.
Didier gently pushed Fab forward, standing up. He took a ring from the pocket of his Santa shorts, bending down on one knee. Focusing on her again, he whispered, “Will you marry me, love of my life?” And more words in French.
I groaned. Damn, French again.
Fab covered her mouth with her hands, speechless. She finally found her voice. “What if I screw everything up with my impetuousness?”
He stood and sat on the ottoman facing her. “As long as we’re together, we can handle anything. We’ve proven that – several times.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, hugging him tightly while he put the diamond ring on her finger.
He lowered his face to hers and kissed her like she was the most desirable woman in the world. His woman. Soon to be wife.
Creole and I stood and hugged and congratulated them.
“Welcome to the family. I get a brother-in-law.” I beamed at Didier.
Creole reached down and handed everyone their wine glasses.
“Merry Christmas,” he toasted.
~ ~ ~
About the Author
Deborah Brown is an Amazon bestselling author of the Paradise series. She lives on the Gulf of Mexico, with her ungrateful animals, where Mother Nature takes out her bad attitude in the form of hurricanes.
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Table of Contents
PARADISE SERIES NOVELS
CHRISTMAS IN PARADISE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
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Christmas in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 13) Page 11