Naughty Santa

Epilogue

Six Months Later

Joe nailed the last piece of shiplap into place on the parlor wall above the fireplace and stepped back to admire his work.

“Oh my God, Joe, I love it!” Paris said. “This looks amazing!”

It looked like wood planks on a wall, but if it made Paris happy, he was happy to do it. Joe would do anything for her because he loved the woman more and more every single day. “Glad you like it, sweetheart.”

She called their newly shared home “modern farmhouse,” whatever the hell that was. They were currently knee-deep in an update of Lydia’s house, save the seventies-style family room. Paris wanted to keep that intact, for some crazy reason.

The rest, however, was getting swept up in Paris’s design plans. Lots of white walls, black matte fixtures, and old painted signs that said things like “Feed” and “Eggs,” which cracked Joe up. When Paris went in, she went all in, and the California diva was now officially a small-town girl.

Just like she’d gone all in on them. Once she’d made the decision that she wanted to be with him, she never looked back. She had sold her boutique in L.A. and he’d moved into Lydia’s house a few weeks after Christmas. Since then, they’d spent every single day getting to know each other, laughing a lot, and loving—physically and emotionally.

“You know I like wood,” she said, giving him a flirtatious smile.

“I’m sure you do. It says so right on your shirt.” He touched the front of her T-shirt with his fingertip, dragging it across the writing and teasing her nipples. Then he cupped one of her breasts. “Team Shiplap.”

Paris gave him a smoldering look before pushing his hand away. “No, stop, don’t do that,” she said. “I have to go back to the store. Lunch break is almost over.”

Joe smiled and set his nail gun down on the fireplace hearth. They had plenty of time.

“No, I’m serious!” she said, squealing and moving away from him.

Louis jumped off the painting tarp he’d been lying on and came running over, barking at him. The little guy tolerated him, but he went into ankle-biter mode if he thought anyone was threatening Paris. Joe couldn’t fault him for that. He’d kill any man who tried to harm her.

“You can call off the guard dog,” he joked. “Because I didn’t touch you or say a single word,” Joe insisted.

“But you were going to, and I can’t resist you. I’m very weak when it comes to you.” She held her hands out in front of her to ward him off, laughing.

“No. You’re just right when it comes to me.” His nostrils flared, and his cock grew hard. Joe would never get enough of her. He’d had a decent, if boring, life before Paris. But now, with her sassy little smile, her sweet soul, and her sexy ass taunting him, his life was fucking perfect. He couldn’t ask for anything more. “Want me to walk you back to the store?”

There was a time when Paris would have told him she could walk herself. But now she understood that sometimes, okay, all the time, he needed to show her how much he cared about her. Joe wasn’t a guy who had all the words, but he would always take care of her.

“I would love that,” she said. “It’s Tuesday, so you know what that means.”

He did. Shipment day. She would need him to unload the pallet that would be delivered to the back of the store. “Let’s go.”

Paris put Louis on his leash, and they left the house, closing the recently painted front door behind them. “When do we stop calling this Lydia’s house?” Joe asked her as they went down the front walk.

“It will always be Lydia’s house,” she said. “It probably won’t truly be our house until we have kids.”

Goddamn if that didn’t make his heart just about burst out of his chest. “When’s that going to happen? You’re not getting any younger, you know,” he teased her. Nothing would make him happier than starting a family with her, and he knew she would be a fantastic mother. She was nurturing to Louis, Roscoe, Jaden, and frankly the whole town.

Paris reached out and smacked him in the chest. “Behave yourself. You’re a year older than I am!” She breathed in deeply the summer air. “God, I love that smell. I never get tired of it. Flowers and clean air and sunshine. It’s just fantastic.”

“Summer is our reward for getting through winter.”

They strolled down Main Street toward the store. Paris had been embracing the warm weather, planting flowers in the boxes in front of the Holly Jolly.

They’d filled their days with work, going for ice cream, driving out to the lake, and attending Jaden’s little league baseball games. The kid had two left feet, but Paris was there cheering him on like he was headed for the World Series.

Everyone in town adored her. She taught Christmas craft classes and had joined the Junior League, working on the Make North Pole Beautiful project. Joe thought it mostly involved women sitting around drinking wine at their meetings, but they swore they were also planning the Christmas in July festival.

“There is something to be said for summer being our saving grace,” Paris agreed. She lifted her foot up to display her flip-flops. “I missed my sandals so much.”

“You’ve got sexy toes.”

Paris laughed, then without warning, turned, took his hand, and gave him the sweetest smile. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hello there, how are you two kids doing today?”

Paris had added two rockers and a checkerboard in front of the Holly Jolly, and there was always a steady stream of old guys plunked down in those chairs. Today, it was Pete and Rawley, brothers who were ninety if they were a day. With their farms being tended to by their grandchildren, they were now free to spend their days sipping lemonade and slipping candy to Jaden.

“We’re fantastic,” Paris said. “How are you?”

“Any day above ground is a good one,” Pete said.

She laughed. “I can’t argue with that.” She touched Pete’s shoulder as they moved past and went into the store.

Mom was behind the counter, and Jaden, on summer break, was pretending to bat an imaginary baseball with the broom in his hand.

“Hi, Mom,” Joe said. “How’s the inventory coming?” Sandy had been a bit nervous about the computer Paris had purchased for the store, but she’d taken to the new technology like a fish to water. To his surprise, she’d been thrilled to have an easier system to work with than Lydia’s pen and paper.

“Like a breeze,” she said. “Thanks to this.” She patted the keyboard of the laptop. “Not all progress is bad. I love this thing.”

She also adored Paris and loved them together as a couple. About a month earlier, she’d tearfully confessed to Joe that she had been worried he’d be alone forever. He knew she was waiting for the day they would get married and give her another grandchild.

“Glad to hear it,” Joe told her.

“Is it too early to start a Christmas list?” Jaden yelled, still swinging the broom.

“Yes!” Mom said.

“No,” Joe told him. “You have to know what you’re being good for. You need a goal.”

His mother gave him an exasperated frown. “Don’t tell him that. There are too many months between now and December. He’ll have four thousand things on the list.”

“A goal!” Jaden said, sliding to the counter. “I need paper.”

Paris laughed, attaching Louis’s leash to the hook she’d installed on the counter for the occasions when she brought him. “I’m going in the back to process the shipment on my tablet.”

Joe followed her and shut the door to the storage room behind him. Before she could start working, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms and gave her a deep, intense kiss. “What’s on your Christmas list, sweetheart? Santa wants to know.”

Paris slid her hand down low over his cock and gave him a smile. “Dear Santa, I’ve been a very, very good girl this year...”

He cupped her tight ass with his big hands and pulled her closer against him, wishing he had locked the damn door. “A good girl, huh?”

“Well, except for the times when I’m very, very naughty.”

Joe chuckled because he knew exactly when those times were. Typically, right after they crawled into bed together. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

She stroked over the front of his jeans. “I’m sure we can. In all seriousness, there is nothing to wish for this Christmas. I have everything I want right here.”

“Good,” Joe said, still in awe of her and his unexpected fortune. “Because I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Paris.”

Paris leaned against his chest and sighed. “I love you more than hot chocolate. And the beach. And Prada. And my Fendi boots. And the Holly Jolly.”

He couldn’t ask for anything more than that, could he?

“Damn. That’s saying something. What about Louis? Do I beat out the walking cotton ball?” he joked.

“Keep hanging shiplap and we’ll see.”