“Yeah, he’s definitely not going to stop being annoying until someone opens up Grandma Betty’s present.” He plucked the sprig of mistletoe up from the top of the dresser and walked over to Chelle, holding it over her head. “But first thing first.”

He bent down and kissed her until they were both breathless. He really was going to have to kill Dixon for forcing them all to leave their rooms so early.

“Merry Christmas to me,” she said, bringing her fingers to her kiss-swollen lips. “Now let’s get down there. I can’t wait to see you open your presents.”

A plate of biscuits and gravy later (thank you, Kinsey’s family recipe), Nash was sitting on the couch in the living room, holding a steaming mug of coffee strong enough that a spoon would stand straight up in it. Wrapping paper and colored tissue paper were littered on the floor and everyone had a small pile of gifts near where they sat. The dogs were asleep in front of the fireplace, Chelle was tucked up against his side with Sir Hiss asleep on her lap, and his numbnut cousins were arguing over how to pick who got to open Grandma Betty’s present now that they’d all lost the Last Man Standing bet.

“Oh. My. God,” Morgan said as she snagged two snickerdoodles from the tray of Christmas cookies on the coffee table. “Three-way rock, paper, scissors.”

Dixon looked at Griff, who grunted his agreement and then shifted his gaze to Nash, who nodded.

They’d developed their version of the game over the summers they’d spent at Gable House as kids. The rules were simple. They each closed their eyes and tapped their closed fists on their palm three times. On the fourth tap, they opened their eyes and made either a closed fist for rock, a flat hand for paper, or two fingers outstretched for scissors. Paper beat rock. Rock beat scissors. Scissors beat paper.

One of each, they all lost, and therefore played another round.

One rock and two papers, the rock was out and the rocks played another round.

One rock and two scissors, both scissors were out. They went through as many lightning rounds of that until there was only one Beckett left.

Nash got up and stood with his cousins by the fireplace. Griff was out on the first round—never go paper first. The second round was a tie of double scissors. Dixon won the third round with a rock.

Everyone but Dixon and Fiona let out a groan.

Nash sat down on the couch next to Chelle, who gave him a sympathetic look.

“Sorry you lost,” she said.

He shrugged, not caring in the least. “As long as I have you, I already have everything I could ever want,” Nash said, brushing a kiss across her temple.

Cheesy? Abso-fucking-lutely. A hundred percent true? Without a single doubt.