A Holly Jolly “Holy Shit, Georgie’s Going to Lose It” Christmas
December 24th, Christmas Eve Morning
Georgia’s skin hummed with warmth as I touched my lips to the apple of her cheek and, trying not to disturb her, slowly shoved myself out of bed.
She was still out—fucking cold—but last night had been a big one for her. And, all things considered, I thought she was handling the changes to her guest list pretty well.
The halls were quiet, thanks to equally exhausted kids and adults looking to take advantage of that glorious situation, as I made my way down to the kitchen and fired up the sixteen-cup coffeepot. It might have seemed like overkill, brewing the max amount, but my Georgie could drink half the fucking thing on her own—and today, she would need to.
Grabbing the paper from the front drive as quietly as possible—the door was new but still had a squeak—and settling in at the kitchen table, I opened up to the sports section and read what the sports critics had to say about the Mavericks game.
It wasn’t all flattering—it never was—but with another win in the books, the boys had made it hard for the nitpickers to find too much to complain about.
I peeked around the paper as the coffee stopped gurgling. Full pot. Fantastic.
Folding the paper back to rights, I tossed it in a stack on the table and grabbed a mug from the cabinet to pour Georgia a cup, when the squeaky door alerted me to a new arrival.
“Hello?” Wes called into the house on a shouted whisper. “Anyone awake?”
I set the mug on the counter and scooted around the wall and down the hall quickly to try to prevent yelling. He’d been considerate on the first attempt, but I knew my friends, and there was nothing in our history to show he’d be the same on a second.
“Hey, Wes,” I called when he came into view, and his eyes, previously scanning the upstairs landing, jumped to me.
“Hey, man. I was beginning to think everybody was still asleep.”
“I’m not. They are,” I said with a smirk. “Seems Dick and Savannah made it up here, after all.”
“Oh my God,” Winnie breathed as she stepped around Wes. “Georgia must be freaking.”
I leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek and then put my fist out for a bump from their ten-year-old daughter, Lexi. She obliged.
“Yeah,” I said with a groan. “She’s not thrilled, but she’s dealing.”
I turned back to Wes. “You wouldn’t know anything about how they happened to find out we were coming here, would you?”
“What? How would I know anything about Dick and Savannah?”
I shrugged and slid my hands into the pockets of my pants. “Someone had to have told them.”
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
“He’s not lying,” Lex interjected. “He did tell the entirety of the Mavericks, though.”
Wes’s eyes closed, and his head dropped back as I cut hard eyes to him.
“What?”
“Relax. Bailey got talkative after the win and asked where we were going. I told him the Catskills, but nothing more than that.”
My shoulders sank slightly, moving a notch closer to normal. They’d need more information than that to find us and a hell of a lot of motivation. We were safe.
I jerked my head toward the kitchen and escorted their family of three farther into the house. “At least I can count on Lex to keep me in the loop.”
Winnie laughed, and Wes tucked Lex close to his front. “I know. The kid is all honesty. I keep trying to break the habit, but she just won’t give.”
Lex rolled her eyes. “Dad.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Wes apologized with a chuckle.
I caught sight of the abandoned mug on the counter and jumped back into action. “You guys make yourselves at home, get some coffee.” I grabbed the pot and held it up before pouring a piping hot stream into Georgie’s mug. “I’m gonna run this up to my hungover wife, and then I’ll be back down.”
“Hungover?” Winnie questioned with a pout. “They got drunk without me?”
Lex rolled her eyes again, and I chuckled. “Not by choice.”
Wes’s eyebrows drew together, and he scoffed. “Well, that sure sounds like a story.”
“It is. I’ll tell you all about it when I come back down.”
They nodded in acknowledgment, and I headed for the stairs. I listened hard at the top for any sounds from either one of my daughters, but everything was still quiet, so I moved on down the hall and into the bedroom at the end.
Georgia had shifted to her stomach, one long leg cocked high and out of the covers. I set the cup of coffee on the nightstand and sat down in the bed next to her.
I stroked her skin from shin to thigh until her eyes peeked open. As soon as we made visual contact, I leaned down and touched my lips to hers.
She squeaked, jumped back, and covered her mouth. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she mumbled behind her hand.
I shook my head, but she went on.
“My mouth tastes like rotten sewage.”
“Wow.” I chuckled. “Lovely visual, baby.”
“So, trust me, you want me to brush my teeth.”
She was forgetting the fact that she was my wife. Nothing could prevent me from kissing her. Even morning breath.
I pretended to think about it briefly before pulling her hand away and kissing her again. She fought it for about a second before forgetting herself and kissing me back in a way only my wife could. It was earth-shifting—life-altering. Every single time.
“I love you,” she whispered just as I thought it myself, her lips against mine.
I nodded and put my lips to her ear. She shivered. “Baby, you have no idea.”
She hummed and snuggled close, and I fought against the urge to climb into bed with her and show her how much.
“Wes, Winnie, and Lex are here,” I said into the curve of her neck.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. “Oh my God, they are? What time is it?”
The duvet jerked back and forth as she moved frantically, unable to decide which side of the bed would be faster to climb out of.
“Relax, baby, it’s fine.”
She glared. “Time, Kline.”
“It’s nine.”
“Nine?” she shrieked. “I was supposed to be up two hours ago! I have to make the pancake batter and move that fucking elf. Julia will have a shit hemorrhage if that fucking thing doesn’t move!”
That fucking elf, otherwise known as Antonio, our Elf on the Shelf. The idea of that thing made me grin and cringe at the same time. It was one of those new-age holiday traditions that was oddly adorable for kids, but when you had to deal with the actual logistics of remembering to secretly move the damn thing to a new location, every fucking morning, it quickly became a pain in the ass.
“Georgie,” I soothed, grabbing her chin and turning it toward me softly. “Relax. I brought you coffee.” I nodded to the mug, and she glanced at it longingly as the picture of having coffee in bed played out in her mind. “Take your time, get dressed, get some coffee in you, and then come downstairs. I’ll make sure Antonio the elf is moved and get the girls when they wake up, okay? I can’t say that I’ll start the pancake batter, but, baby, the way you make pancakes, I guarantee the crowd will wait.”
Her voice was wistful as her eyes searched mine. “Why do you love me?”
I shook my head. “Too many reasons to list now, love. It’s already nine,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes but sighed sweetly. “I’m so, so lucky. You’re so loving and generous and put up with my excitement.”
Excitement. What a cute name for hysteria.
I nodded. “And I’ve got a big dick. Don’t forget that one.”
“Kline!”
“Baby, it’s in my name.”
“Big-dick Brooks is not your actual name!”
“People address me as such.”
She scoffed. “Cassie doesn’t count.”
“It counts.” I scooped her up and pulled her to my lap, fingers digging into her perfect ass. It was nearly bare thanks to her lacy, cheeky underwear, and I almost groaned. “And later, I’m gonna show you how good I am at using it too.”
When I got back downstairs, I went about moving the elf and setting up a snowball fight with marshmallows for the kids with Lex’s help. I hadn’t intended to spoil the whole elf illusion for her, but she’d laughed when I hinted to Winnie to maybe occupy her somewhere else. Apparently, thinking the Elf on the Shelf was a real thing was for people at least three years younger than her—and of a much lesser intelligence.
Georgie came down half an hour later, and I had to hide my smile behind my coffee mug and the paper. She looked beautiful, as always, but it was more than apparent that she’d hurried.
Wes averted his eyes, smart enough to know a comment from her boss would not be welcome, as Winnie jumped up and pulled Georgie’s skirt from its spot—tucked into her underwear.
“Oh my God,” Georgia shouted, and Winnie shushed her. “Relax, it’s fine. No one saw.”
Wes and I had both seen, but the kitchen table had never looked more interesting to either of us.
“Good morning!” Thatch boomed as he stepped into the kitchen, a pair of red pants, a white dress shirt, and a red satin bow tie completing his ensemble.
“Good God,” Wes mumbled.
Thatch smiled a toothy grin and leaned down to whisper in Wes’s ear. “Don’t be so jealous, Whitney. I’m an anomaly. No one else can look this good. It’s isn’t just you.”
“Does everyone want pancakes?” Georgia asked, her blush of embarrassment just then starting to come under control. At least Thatch hadn’t been in the room for the tucked skirt incident. I had a feeling he would have been markedly more vocal than Wes and me.
“I already had some breakfast,” Thatch said suggestively, waggling his eyebrows. Wes dry heaved. “But I could eat some more.”
“Yeah, Daddy,” Cassie said as she entered the room while she was still pulling down her shirt. I looked back to the table to avoid seeing nipple.
“Let’s all cool it with the exsay talk, okay?” Georgia ordered. “The kids will be up soon.”
Translation for all of you who don’t speak Pig Latin.
Exsay = Sexy.
Not something I thought I’d ever become fluent in, but that’s life with kids.
Cassie and Thatch both looked around casually.
“Huh. Look at that, Thatcher. Our kids aren’t here.”
“Jesus Christ, how are they parents?” Wes asked the room as if they weren’t there.
They weren’t offended as one might think. Instead, Cassie shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.”
“I think it’s because I uckfayed you without an ondomcay,” Thatch pointed out helpfully, and Georgie glared over her shoulder.
I chuckled, and the glare shifted to me.
“Sorry, baby, but that was funny,” I admitted.
Sudden and harsh, two beeps of an industrial-sized horn filled the air and made every single one of us jump.
“Holy fluff. What the fluff was that?” Thatch asked.
I shrugged. Wes and Winnie exchanged a panicked look. My eyebrows drew together.
“Do you know—” I started to ask Wes, but he shook his head desperately.
Pounding shook the front door and startled us again, and anxiety in her eyes, Georgia took off like a shot toward the front entry. It took the rest of us a half-second longer, but we all followed. Thatch and Cassie tried to go through the doorway to the hall at the same time and got into a minor argument about who was going to go first, trapping us all in the kitchen until I shoved them out of the way.
My wife was out there alone facing God knew what. Horrible visions of Dick driving that giant RV toward my wife and the side of the mountain danced in my head.
I ran down the hall and got to the jam-packed foyer just as a sleepy Julia put her hands to the spindles upstairs and let out a shriek when her eyes peered out the giant floor-to-ceiling window looking over the front of the house. “Oh my goshs. Mavericks!” She turned her head back to the hall and yelled, “Evie! Gunner! Ace! The Mavericks is heres!”
Holy fucking shit.
One by one and with duffel bags in hand, they walked off a huge tour-style bus and toward our front door.
Quinn Bailey’s smile was magnetic as he did a rolling bow, worthy of the royals, in front of my shell-shocked wife. The rest of the team—or by my exact count, seven other players—chuckled.
Sean Phillips waved toward his sister Cassie and Thatch.
Cam Mitchell grinned at the kids who were now awake and hopping around on the porch, shouting their excitement.
And my wife, well, she was gone.
Literally gone. Georgia passed out cold. Boom. Just like that, she made like a dead fish and flopped toward the floor.
I wasn’t in range to catch her, but thankfully, she had nearly a whole football team who was.
Merry fucking Christmas.