'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set

by Maggie Dallen

  I inhale sharply, unable to look away, unable to process what his look means.

  Jax pulls him into conversation, and the moment passes, but Taylor has witnessed it all and she takes a long pull of her festive cocktail. “Damn, I’m hot after that,” she says, fanning herself.

  “Shut up,” I snort.

  “I’m serious. He's into you, Dais.”

  "I don't think so. I just…I can't tell."

  "Trust me, babe. I know men. I’ve observed them from afar, purely for entertainment, at all the boring social functions I’ve attended for my dad’s work. That man is pining for you, but it's in one of those look-don't-touch ways."

  "Ugh. That's how guys always see me."

  Her eyes scan the living room, settling on each of my brothers and Sierra as if to prove her point. "That may be true here, right now. But trust me, Edinburgh is going to be a whole different story. Hope you're ready for it." She smirks.

  "Ready for what?"

  "It. Because judging by the chemistry between you guys," she clucks her tongue, “it's going to knock you on your butt when it happens. Cheers!" She clinks her glass with mine, and we both take sips of our divine cocktails.

  Still, I can't brush off her words as easily as I'd like. Instead, the more cocktails I consume, the more they play in my mind.

  "Okay. Denver, you put the stockings on the mantle," Carter commands, handing a stack of Christmas stockings to Denver.

  My oldest brother moves over to the mantle and begins to hang them.

  "Aw, you got one for the Peanut," Sierra exclaims, her hand cupping her tiny baby bump protectively.

  "Of course, we did," Evie says. "Isn't it so sweet?"

  The stocking is beautiful, winter white and soft pink, with a Christmas tree adorned with gold and silver bells. Across the top, “Peanut” is scrolled in pink script.

  "It's beautiful," Sierra whispers, her eyes shimmering.

  "Baby, come on. No tears," Den says, but he's grinning at her. Like, full-on smiling. I swear, sometimes I don't even know him anymore.

  "Sorry.” Sierra blushes, swiping a knuckle under her eye.

  We all laugh as Finn tosses an arm around her shoulder and pulls her into a side hug. "Hey! You got me a stocking, too?" he says, as Denver holds up the next stocking in the pile.

  Sierra swats the back of her hand across his stomach. "We'd never leave you out."

  "Thanks, Sisi."

  "Actually, that was all Daisy."

  Finn's eyes cut to mine, and I hold his gaze, watching as the amusement in the blue depths morphs into something more significant. He bows his head gratefully, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile. "Thank you, Daisy." He says my name quietly, almost reverently, and even though he's across the room, it's as if I can feel his voice physically wash over me. A chill jolts through my body at the sound of my name on his lips. His brogue seems stronger, and it affects me more than I ever thought possible.

  "Jax, the star is all you." Carter resumes his decorating orders, and Jax springs into action, digging into a box to find our Christmas tree topper.

  "Daisy, the wreath please." Carter points to a box containing the wreath for our front door. "Taylor and Evie, this box is all small Christmas trinkets. You can set them up anywhere around the first floor of the house."

  "What about me?" Sierra asks.

  "You and the peanut are supervising. With me," Carter explains, waving a hand to indicate that she shouldn't be doing anything except relaxing.

  "I'm a natural delegator." Sierra nods in understanding as Denver, Finn, and I laugh. It's so true.

  I squat down to lift the wreath box when I feel Finn at my side. His fingers pinch my elbow lightly and I turn, nearly falling into him. He's hovering over me, his eyes soft, and his mouth curved into a gentle smirk as he tugs on my elbow again. "I got this," he says. "Just tell me where you want it."

  "Just over on the porch would be great."

  He nods and lifts the box with ease, weaving through the various boxes labeled "Christmas" that Jax and Denver pulled out of our attic this morning. I follow him through the foyer and out the front door.

  He places the box down on the front porch, and I thank him as I bend to open the box. My hands fumble with the lid as a swell of tears catches me off-guard. I lift the lid and take a moment to study the wreath my mom made so many years ago. It's beautiful, assembled from sage, cranberry, and white ribbons of varying thickness and patterns. The ribbons are interspersed with bows, twigs of evergreen, and several jingle bells. At the bottom sits a giant Christmas bow, its top opening into a candleholder. Next to the wreath are several white candles. Everything is wrapped with care and organized, just the way Mom would have left it, and I feel a wave of gratitude toward Carter for taking her traditions as seriously as she did.

  "You okay?" Finn asks, squatting down next to me and ducking his head to catch my gaze.

  Shoot. I forgot he was still here. So caught up in the moment, I feel uncentered by my emotional response to seeing the wreath again. I don't know how long I've been kneeling here, lost in my own thoughts.

  "Yeah, sorry." My fingers brush back the tissue paper surrounding the wreath. And then, for reasons I can't explain, I tell him, "My mom made this wreath. Seeing it," I pause, trying to collect my thoughts and calm the emotions surging forward, "I don't know, it always catches me off-guard somehow."

  Finn's quiet next to me, but his body stills at my words. Slowly, so slowly that the movement causes me to glance up, his hand reaches forward and his thumb and index finger grasp the end of a piece of hair escaping my ponytail. He tucks it gently behind my ear, his eyes locked on mine, as he says, "It's beautiful."

  "Yeah. It is. It's my favorite Christmas decoration."

  "Did she pass recently?" His voice is hushed, his gaze intent on my face.

  "No. I was five."

  His expression falls, his eyes dimming and his mouth flattening into a thin line. "I didn't realize you were just a little girl. I'm sorry, Daisy. That must have been...very difficult."

  I swallow down the emotion swelling in my throat. "My brothers did a pretty good job. They tried their best. Especially Carter." I gesture toward the house, where I'm sure Carter is still ordering everyone around.

  "What about your dad?" Finn asks curiously, a spark of recognition I can't place flickering in his irises.

  I shrug. "He's not worth talking about."

  Finn nods, as if it's settled, and I offer him a small smile before I shift back on my heels, his fingers sliding off the shell of my ear. His touch, his proximity, is playing with my head, making me feel unsteady and unsure, when I'm used to feeling in control of my own emotions. Grabbing the wreath, I lift it from the box and fix it to the hook on the front door. Placing a candle in the center, I turn the bulb until it flickers to life. I step back to stare at the wreath, and Finn moves next to me, his arm winding around my shoulders. He gives me a light squeeze and chuckles, his playful side resuming once more.

  "What are you laughing about?"

  "Look." He points to the top of the doorframe where mistletoe hangs down, tied with a ribbon.

  I snort, shaking my head. "My brothers are so dumb. I swear, they'd do anything for extra kisses from their girlfriends."

  "What about you?" Finn asks, angling his body toward mine, his hand sliding from my shoulder until it presses into the center of my back.

  "What about me?" I whisper. I glance at him and inhale sharply at the expression on his face.

  Gone is the playful smirk and amused blue eyes. He's serious and thoughtful once more, almost reticent. I swear, Finn's constant swaying from jokester to subdued lawyer is making it difficult for me to keep up. Is he into me? Is this how he is with everyone or just me? I can't follow the mixed signals and as his hands come up to frame my face, a thumb swiping against my cheekbone, all thoughts fly from my mind. Except one.

  Oh, my God. He's going to kiss me.

  "Are you looking for extra kisses?" Hi
s voice is hushed as he continues to watch me, his gaze unnerving, seeming to see through me.

  I chuckle, trying to laugh it off, but his next words silence the playful approach I was angling for. "Because I am." He flashes me a cocky grin and I smile back, biting my lower lip uncertainly as his mouth arcs toward mine.

  He kisses me sweetly, gently, and my eyes flutter closed as his hands move from my cheeks to the back of my head, his fingers threading into my ponytail. I part my lips and his tongue dips in, dancing with mine. I feel him smile against my mouth, and I can't help but smile back.

  It was the perfect first kiss. The type you read about in romance novels or see in Hallmark Christmas movies.

  "Happy Christmas, Daisy Kane."

  "Merry Christmas, Finn," I say the words automatically because my mind is a million miles away, wondering what the kiss meant. Was it just because of the mistletoe, or did Finn really want to kiss me? Will there be more kisses?

  Deep down, I already know that one won't be enough.

  It won't ever be enough.

  And now, all I want for Christmas is more kisses from Finn.

  That’s definitely my Christmas wish.

  Chapter 5

  "Hey, Dais," Carter says, coming into my room and sitting on the edge of my bed that night. "Still up waiting on Santa?" he teases, reminding me of how I tried to stay up every year on Christmas Eve when I was little, so I could catch Santa Claus in the act.

  I snort, scooting my knees into my chest. "What's up, Carter? Are you and Taylor heading out?"

  My brother chuckles, as he shakes his head. "Uh, no. Taylor is passed out. Too many peppermint whatever-the-hell she was drinking."

  I laugh. "She's got a heavy hand. Quite the mixologist."

  "She's really excited about Christmas."

  "It's nice. She's really amazing, and I'm happy for you."

  "Thanks, Dais." My brother flops back onto my bed and rolls onto his stomach, so he's staring up at me. "You doing okay?"

  "Yeah, of course. Why?"

  "I don't know. You seem a little off lately. Nervous about the move or the job or anything?"

  I shrug, shaking my head. "Not nervous. I mean, yes, I'm nervous in the way that I would be about starting any job. But it's not that. I'm more anxious about the move, I guess. It's like everything is changing."

  "I know. It is," Carter agrees, his voice quiet. "I want to talk to you about the house."

  "The house?"

  Carter nods, his eyes locked on my face, so he can gage my reaction.

  "You think we should sell it?" I ask, not missing the crack in my own voice.

  Carter sighs as a light knock sounds on my door. Den and Jax shadow the frame a moment later before Jax bounds inside, nudging me over and settling into the space next to me. Denver grabs the chair from my desk and flips it around, straddling it next to my bedside, his arms dangling over the back of the chair. "What do you think?" he asks.

  I sigh, the thought of selling our family home overwhelming me. It's something I hadn't even considered or thought about before. Now that Carter broached the topic, it makes sense. I mean, with all of us moving on in our lives and careers, it does seem like a lot to hang onto a home no one will be living in. At this point, only Carter is still going to be in Georgia, and he and Taylor are in a beautiful townhouse; I don't see them giving that up to move back into our family home with the peeling paint and the leaky roof.

  "We don't have to do anything right away. We can hang onto it for another year, see how things work out for you in Scotland," Jax reassures me.

  "I don't know. I mean, it makes sense. I just, I never thought this wouldn't be our home," I admit, giving my brothers a look. “I always figured that one of you would end up here.”

  Jax chuckles. “Alone with a lot of cats?”

  “You said it.” I laugh. “No, I mean, with one of your families. I just never thought this house wouldn’t belong to one of us.”

  "I know what you mean," Carter agrees, looking around my bedroom. "A lot of memories happened here. I mean, we all grew up here."

  "And we always came back home here," Jax adds, smiling at me and pulling me into a side hug. "It's just something to consider. Nothing needs to be decided now."

  I nod. "Okay. Well, then, let's give it some time."

  "Okay," Den says, his dark eyes watching me carefully. "Can y'all believe this past year?" He scrubs his hand over his face.

  Jax laughs, the sound open and uninhibited. "Not at all. It's been insane. Who would have thought we'd all be hanging in Daisy's room on Christmas Eve and starting new chapters in our lives?"

  "Not me," Den agrees.

  "You guys will come visit me in Scotland, right?" I ask, suddenly nervous that this may be one of the last times it's just the four of us. It's something I relied on for so long, always having my brothers in my corner. Always knowing that no matter what, I was the most important woman in their lives. That with one phone call, they would drop whatever they were doing to help me. The realization that I'm moving to a new country, without them, suddenly seems daunting.

  "We'll come wherever you go." Jax squeezes me tighter, kissing the top of my head. "No worries there, Dais. Now tell us, what's going on with Finn?"

  "What?" I ask, nervous laughter bubbling forward. "Nothing."

  "Sure about that?" Carter presses, his eyes are laughing with mischief, but his mouth is set in a firm line. I know it's hard for my brothers, especially Carter, to have me date anyone seriously. In their eyes, no guy is ever good enough. But really, am I that obvious?

  "Yes, I'm sure. It's nothing."

  "If you say so, Dais. But if anything happens—" Den begins, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

  "Nothing is happening. Jeez, I'd almost rather discuss selling our home."

  My three brothers look at each other and laugh then. After a moment, I join in just as Den picks up a pillow off my floor and throws it at me, hitting me right in the face. Jax pulls me into a headlock a moment later, as Carter tickles the hell out of my feet until I'm thrashing around and screaming.

  "Stop it! I give in!" I cry out, laughing hysterically as one of my brothers sits on me.

  "What's going on up here?" Evie asks, opening my bedroom door, Finn and Sierra close on her heels.

  "Nothing." Jax looks up innocently as I manage to sit back up in bed and push my hair out of my eyes. "Just having a heart to heart with our sister."

  "Heart to heart my ass," I mutter, but a huge grin splits my face because I know this is my brothers’ way of telling me they love me.

  And no matter what, they'll always have my back.

  I wake up early on Christmas morning to the delicious scent of French toast and waffles. Another Kane family tradition, Denver always cooks breakfast on Christmas morning. Well, if I'm being honest, he almost always cooked all of our meals when he lived here.

  "Merry Christmas," I greet my brother as I push through the swinging door into the kitchen.

  "Happy Christmas," Finn replies cheerfully, turning from his place by the stove, a spatula raised in his right hand.

  I stop short, my brow furrowing as a thousand different thoughts zip through my mind. Why is Finn cooking breakfast? Where is Denver? Is Sierra okay? Oh my God, is Finn hijacking my family's Christmas? Are those reindeer on his pajama pants? He looks really good for being up so early. Is there coffee?

  "How'd you sleep?" Finn continues, as if his cooking in the kitchen of my family home is the most normal thing in the world—on Christmas morning no less.

  "Where's Den?"

  "I told him to take the morning off and sleep in with Sierra. His dinner last night was amazing and cooking for a lot of people can be tiring. You Kanes are hardcore. The Andersons usually cater."

  I laugh before narrowing my eyes. "How'd you know he makes French toast and waffles on Christmas morning?"

  "Sierra told me. It's one of your family traditions, right?"

  "Yeah." I slide onto one of the isl
and bar stools as he flips several pieces of French toast over in the frying pan.

  "Do you prefer French toast or waffles?"

  "French toast."

  "Coffee or tea?"

  "Coffee times a million."

  He chuckles, turning around to place a plate with two pieces of French toast, with a puddle of syrup off to the side, in front of me. Shuffling to the coffee pot, he pours me a mug and slides that over, passing me the creamer.

  "Thank you," I say gratefully, pouring cream into the coffee and watching him. "But you didn't have to do all of this. You're our guest and—"

  "I think I'm past the point of being just your guest." He grins, his eyes flashing with amusement and heat and something I can't place. Something that looks too close to hope, and that definitely can't be it.

  "Finn—"

  "Happy Christmas, Daisy." He walks over to the kitchen table and grabs a simple green gift bag with red tissue paper from a chair. Striding over, he places it on the barstool next to me. "I was hoping you'd be up early, so I could give you this without everyone else seeing. It's nothing special, just something I thought you'd like for your start in Edinburgh."

  I gulp a massive mouthful of coffee, burning the roof of my mouth. Surprise rocks through me and I glance from the gift bag to him and back again. He bought me a Christmas present? And cooked my family breakfast? What the heck is going on? "You didn't have to get me anything, Finn."

  "I know. I wanted to get this for you. It's small, really."

  I place my fork down on the edge of my plate and pull the gift bag into my lap. Reaching inside, I pull out a gorgeous tote, the familiar brown-checkered pattern causing me to inhale sharply. "Finn, it's beautiful." I run my fingers over the leather of the Louis Vuitton Neverfull bag. "This is crazy; it must have cost a fortune. I can't accept this."

  "I want you to have it. It should even fit your laptop, and you're going to need something big to carry all the files for your new job."

  My mouth drops open as my heart races. He bought me a designer handbag? For work? Who does that?