A Very Merry Nanny (Very Merry #2)

Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

HUDSON

CHRISTMAS MORNING

I wake up super early, knowing I need to beat Colby downstairs. As soon as my foot hits the top step, I freeze, and my mouth falls open. The entire house has been transformed into what looks like Santa's workshop overnight. Twinkling lights dance along the banister, and the scent of pine wafts through the air, a warm reminder of the holiday season. The sight is so surreal that I don't know how to react.

Emma's hands wrap around my waist from behind, a tender gesture that momentarily brings me back to reality. I step aside, and her reaction mirrors my own, which throws me off because she's notoriously bad at hiding things. This girl wears her emotions and heart on her sleeve like a badge of honor, and yet, here we are, both utterly baffled by the transformation around us.

“When did you find the time?” she asks, her eyes wide with disbelief. “We fell asleep together.”

“I thought you did this,” I whisper, scanning the room.

“No,” she states, her brows knitting together in confusion. My eyes continue to roam over the massive sea of presents. Gifts line up and down the stairs, their vibrant colors creating a festive rainbow, and additional boxes spill into the kitchen, turning the space into a treasure trove of wrapped surprises.

“Must've been Santa,” I laugh, my mind racing but offering no logical explanation.

“You serious, Clark?” she replies, incredulously.

I chuckle lightly. “We're watching that movie tonight. It's next on my list.”

“One of my favorites,” she says, yet her expression reveals that she's just as confused by our holiday miracle as I am. She reaches down and grabs a package wrapped in shimmering silver paper, and I catch sight of her name emblazoned on the front in elegant script. I glance over and notice a gift with my name, the same handwriting unfamiliar yet neat, as if written by someone who truly cares.

“Who has the code to your house?” Emma's eyes widen with realization. “ The code !”

I smirk, fully aware of its significance.

“0704. The day we met,” she whispers, her voice full of wonder.

“The day my life changed,” I reply, pulling her close, my heart swelling with emotion. “Best day of my life after my son was born.”

“I'll happily take second place to him. But also know you're my number two as well,” she adds, the sincerity in her voice makes my chest swell. She loves Colby so damn much.

“Welp,” I say, unable to contain my grin, “I'm officially jealous of a five-year-old. Unless there's something else in your number one spot.”

“Just your son,” she says softly, pulling me even closer.

I steal a spearmint-flavored kiss, the taste of her toothpaste is on my tongue. “You promise you didn't do this?”

She lifts her brows. “I swear.”

“It must've taken them hours,” I say, unable to keep the awe out of my voice. This is impossible.

I place a gentle kiss on her forehead before she skips down the stairs, her face lit up with amazement as she moves towards the Christmas tree, which glows in the dim light of the early morning.

I slowly descend the stairs behind her, an electric energy coursing through the air, making the moment feel even more magical.

“They're almost too pretty to tear,” she whispers, her hand brushing delicately across the glittery red paper, tied with big silk ribbons. Every gift seems meticulously wrapped, a labor of love.

My face softens as I memorize every tiny freckle on her pretty face, wanting to etch this moment into my memory.

“Coffee?” I ask, eager for some caffeine before the festivities fully begin.

“Thought you'd never ask,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with joy, and we make our way to the kitchen. There, an espresso machine like Jake's sits gleaming on the countertop, accented by a big red bow.

“Okay,” I say, noting a new stand mixer beside it. I turn to Emma, and a question forms in my mind. “Do you think Claire did this?”

“No,” Emma says. “My sister would've given me a warning.”

The coffee brews, filling the kitchen with its rich scent. We pour ourselves mugs, savoring the warmth of the ceramic in our hands.

After several gulps, Colby’s excited screams pierce the air from the top of the stairs.

“Santa! He listened!” Colby skips toward us, his eyes wide with the magic of the season, and he spots a gift with a bright green bow—his name elegantly scrawled across it in gleaming gold letters. “Daddy, can I open this?”

“What do you think, Em?” I glance over at her, catching the spark of joy reflected in her eyes.

She places a finger against the pout of her lips, her brow furrowing in contemplation. “Hmm.”

“Pretty, pretty please?” His tiny voice squeezes my heart a little tighter.

“YES!” she exclaims, her eyes twinkle like the lights on the tree. “But only if I can open one with you.”

“You can!” he replies giddily, bouncing on his feet, nodding furiously.

I watch as Emma moves to him, her hand gently resting on his back, a soft connection of warmth and love. He glances up at her, and she beams back at him with a smile that radiates comfort. The sight of them together almost makes me choke up, a swell of emotion rising within me. As they tear through the colorful wrappers, the sound of paper crinkling fills the air.

I preheat the oven for the cinnamon rolls I prepared the night before. As the rolls bake, the sweet, bubbling smells of cinnamon and sugar waft through the house. I sink into the couch with my steaming coffee and watch Emma and Colby whirl around the living room, plucking presents from the floor. Their laughter dances around me, and I know this is true happiness.

I eventually join in on the gift opening, something I haven’t done in far too long.

“This is an exclusive stay in the presidential suite in Paris,” I announce, holding the reservation.

“It’s one of my favorite hotels,” she continues, as if memories are flooding back. “You can see the Eiffel Tower from the balcony. I haven’t been there in a long time.”

“We’ll go together,” I promise.

Colby watches us intently, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You like each other.”

Emma leans forward, her fingers dancing along his sides as she tickles him. “I like you too.”

I graze along her back with my hand, and I can see the chill bumps racing up her arms as her body responds to the gentle touch.

The oven beeps, pulling me from the moment, and I dash to grab the cinnamon rolls, their golden tops glistening as I place them on the counter. While they continue ripping through paper, I allow them to cool then add sugary icing on top. They smell incredible.

“Time to take a break and eat.”

“Aww, Dad,” Colby whines, his excitement momentarily dashed.

Emma, ever the negotiator, coaxes him into the kitchen, her playful demeanor a testament to their close bond. I’m pretty sure she has him wrapped around her little finger, just like every other person in his life.

“Milk?” I ask, and he eagerly nods. I pour a glass and set it in front of him before placing a big, fluffy cinnamon roll on his plate.

“It’s hot,” I caution, but Emma is already helping him cut it open. Steam rises from the freshly baked rolls. I hand Emma one, and we sit at the bar top in matching pajamas.

This is family in its purest form.

After eating, we return to the joyous chaos of gift opening. It stretches on for hours, each present eliciting squeals from Colby as he swims through the sea of wrapping paper.

“Daddy! I told you the house was gonna be full of presents to the sky! Santa actually listens. I was a very good boy!” His enthusiasm is contagious.

“You were,” I respond proudly, still trying to wrap my head around how this happened and who was responsible. Every gift was like it was chosen by someone who knew us, personally. I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude; it transformed this day into something truly unforgettable for Colby. I just don't know who to thank.

Suddenly, Emma gasps as she looks at the mantle.

Mr. Stinky, the mischievous elf, is bent over, mooning us. His tiny hand clutches a small note.

“It has your name on it,” she offers, eyes wide with curiosity.

I take the note from that dirty little elf and unfold it. My heart races as I read the message:

Thank you for making my daughter happy. I look forward to calling you son.

I swallow hard, realization washing over me. Mr. Manchester.

“What is it?” she asks.

I hand the paper to her, and her eyes flick across the handwriting, absorbing each carefully formed letter as if they were precious artifacts.

“ My father ,” she whispers, a hint of disbelief tinging her voice.

“Yes,” I say, smiling as I recall all the beautiful memories he's shared with me—private thoughts, tender moments from years gone by. We've become friends over the past six weeks, forming a bond that feels as natural as breathing.

“He didn't have to do this,” I whisper, glancing over at Colby, who is too occupied by a truck with hydraulic arms to notice our conversation.

“No, he didn't,” she explains, her tone softening. “My holidays were always spent away. I'd wished for home. This. ” She smiles wide, and I see appreciation etched on her face.

“Seems like he's trying to make up for that, Em.”

“This is a start. I'm trying to give him a chance.” There's hope in her voice.

“Merry Christmas,” I say, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss.

A pretty grin touches her lips. “Merry Christmas, Hudson. I hope all your wishes and dreams came true this season.”

“Almost,” I say, sneaking another kiss when Colby isn't looking. “There's still one more thing on my list. Actually, two, and then my life will be complete. I could die a happy man.” The corner of her mouth quirks up in a way that tells me she's holding back questions, her curiosity piqued.

She swallows hard, and for a moment, we're lost in unspoken words and future possibilities, a shared dream hanging tantalizingly close.

Colby kicks paper around the house. “That's all, Daddy!”

He runs over to me, wrapping his tiny arms around my waist in a hug that feels both grounding and joyful. “I love you.”

“I love you, Bee.” My heart swells at his affection.

“I love you, Emma,” he adds, his sincerity melting my heart.

She bends down, opening her arms to him, pulling him close. “Love you, Bee. You're such a good little boy.”

He squeezes her tight, burying his face in her shoulder. “Do you still have to leave?”

She nods gently, the sadness evident in her eyes. “Yes. But it's not goodbye. Just taking a short trip.”

“Can I go with you? I will be really, really good.” He blinks up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Emma boops his nose with a soft smile. “Not this time. But maybe one day.”

Before he gets upset, I speak up, my tone brightening the mood. “Change out of your pajamas. Time to go to Mimi's for lunch.”

He bolts up the stairs, energetic and eager, doing exactly what I say without any protest. He's still riding the high from all the presents he received from me, Emma, and her dad. Tonight, he’ll open all the gifts from my brothers, grandma, and mom. By then, he'll likely be cranky, and we’ll have to leave early.

When I hear his door close, I shift closer to Emma, the air between us thick with unfulfilled longing.

“I wish we had time for each other,” she says, her voice a blend of frustration and desire. “I want you so bad.”

“Maybe a few minutes.” With a playful smirk, I slide my hand into her panties, feeling her breath hitch as my fingers flutter over her clit. She holds on to me for dear life, her body responding instinctively as I give her exactly what she needs. I have her body memorized, every curve and contour, knowing precisely how she likes to be touched.

Leaning in, I whisper in her ear, relishing the way her skin shivers under my breath. “Love hearing those little moans.”

“Feels so good,” she mutters breathlessly, her voice laced with pleasure as I wrap my free hand around her to steady her shaky legs. Her mouth falls open, a soft gasp escaping as my fingers sink deeper. A few more circles against her clit, and she's crumbling under my touch.

“Good fucking girl,” I say, savoring the moment, allowing her to ride out her orgasm, wanting her to enjoy every jolt of pleasure coursing through her. I place my fingers into my mouth to taste her. “I want some more of that later.”

“Yes,” she breathes, pulling me closer and kissing me with a fervor that ignites something deep within me. “We should probably get ready, too?”

“Yeah,” I reply, and as she walks past me, I can’t resist giving her a playful slap on the butt. “Sexy.”

“You are,” she says over her shoulder, her voice drifting back to me like a whisper as she gracefully ascends the stairs. I can't help but admire her, captivated by the way her hair catches the light and the effortless sway of her hips as she makes her way to the top.

Once we're dressed, we hop into the truck, the cold air surrounds us.

“I have one more thing for you,” I tell Emma, the excitement bubbling beneath my words.

“Oh?” she replies, her eyebrows arching in curiosity as we turn off the main road, the familiar landscape becoming a backdrop to our little adventure. “Where are we going?”

Colby, lost in the world of his tablet, pays no attention to us as the screen's glow reflects in his eyes. His focus is unwavering.

“You'll see,” I say, trying to keep the smile from spreading too widely on my face. As soon as the barn comes into view, she glances at me.

“Colby, stay here, okay?” I say, ensuring the heat stays on for him as I step out. “I'll be right back.”

He gives me a thumbs up, immersed in his game.

Emma steps out of the truck, her hand slipping into mine, warm and trusting. We walk into the first stable, the scent of hay and fresh straw filling my lungs, and stop in front of a beautiful chestnut-colored quarter horse the same color as her hair.

“Is this Thor?” she asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“It's Aphrodite,” I say, a grin breaks across my face. “She's yours.”

Her mouth falls open, disbelief washing over her features like a sudden rush of wind.

“You're kidding.”

“No,” I assure her, the joy in my heart overflowing. “She's a rescue, too. I got her so you can ride with us this summer.”

“You're planning for the future?” she asks, her gaze searching mine for sincerity, the weight of her question settling between us.

“Our future,” I reply, my words filled with promise.

She hugs me tight, her body shaking with happiness. “Thank you. She's beautiful.”

“A pretty horse for a pretty girl,” I say, kissing her forehead softly, savoring the moment.

I hold on to her tight, excited for all the adventures we're going to share. She shivers and I pull away.

“Let's go eat,” I say, and we drive to my parents' house.

Emma smiles, stealing glances at me like I'm the best surprise of all.

When I park, Colby hops out and races inside, eager to join the festivities.

As we enter my parents' house, we're greeted by a round of applause when they see the containers of cookies. Today, we brought our winning recipe—Gingerbread man sandwiches—and there won't be any leftovers.

Emma hugs my parents and says hello. Her genuine affection is evident as she squeezes Mawmaw tightly. She's effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of my life, becoming a part of my every day.

“Remember, I wanna be paid in hundreds,” Jake says from beside me, watching me. Lucas smirks with his arms crossed over his chest. I try to ignore my brothers, but they already know I'm so fucking in love with this woman, it's almost unreal.

Emma glances at me, grinning as she says something playful to Colby, who has remained by her side since this morning.

I tilt my head at her, admiring how stunning she is and how lucky I am that she's mine.

I just have to seal it with a kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve.