Grady wasn’t sure if Simone was being obtuse or clueless, but Suzanne was quick to correct her mother. “Mom,” she said with an eye roll in her voice. “It’s a ranch.”

“Sorry.” She apologized with a rueful smile. “Your ranch.”

“We look forward to it,” Albie said with a nod, ushering Simone out the door, then, pointing above their heads to the doorframe, said, “Mistletoe.”

They both looked up at the plastic plant. Suzanne laughed as she slid her arm around his waist. “Grady does like to increase his chances.” Then she rose on her tippy-toes to kiss his cheek at the same time Grady turned his head, and her lips connected with his mouth.

Sort of.

It should have felt clumsy, but even this slight off-kilter kiss infused with rum and nutmeg managed to knock him on his metaphorical ass. It deepened, and the world around them faded for a moment as he forgot about the winter air and a tour he didn’t want to give and the fact that this kiss was number four and he’d been very fucking specific about three being his maximum.

Grady dragged himself out of the kiss, staring at Suzanne for long moments, surprised to find they’d been so preoccupied, they hadn’t even noticed her parents leave. Glancing away, he stepped inside, and she followed as he shut the door behind them, shutting out the cold night. He only wished he could shut out the smell of nutmeg and the taste of rum-infused lips.

He didn’t like feeling this flummoxed, and right now it seemed vital to take back that control. “We didn’t agree to me being a tour guide,” he said, his voice gravelly as he moved to the central kitchen bench and grabbed for the docked phone, switching off the playlist.

He could only hear “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” so many times without wanting to shove a pair of Aunty Cora’s size-eight knitting needles into his ears.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, moving to the tree and standing in front of it so she was in profile to him, her arms wrapped around her waist. “I thought it’d be nice for them to have a look around and to have something to do.”

Grady leaned his ass against the central island bench, watching as her gaze roved over every inch of the tree, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

The mouth that had been on his a minute ago.

“I’d like to see it as well,” she said absently, still staring at the tree. “I’d like to know where you go and what you do when you leave here in the morning. But it’s fine,” she said as she dragged her eyes away and turned to face him. Her blond hair was backlit by the blaze of lights so that she seemed to glow with Christmas. “I can make an excuse.”