Holly placed another large river rock on the stack and sent a speculative gaze down at the freshly dug hole in Rob and Denise’s backyard.

“You know.” She shot Harley a fast grin. “We could probably fit your twin’s body in there once he finishes dying of man flu.”

Aaron, who’d turned up to give them a hand to dig a new hangi pit, snorted and tossed another spadeful of earth aside. “How long you been married again?”

“Long enough to know the Komeke brothers are descended from mighty warriors who happen to turn into crybabies when they get a cold.” Rob added another stone to the pile. “Isn’t that right, Hol?”

“Preach it, Dad.” She spotted Bree watching them from Denise’s living room window and she gave her a thumbs-up.

Behind Bree, sprawled on the sofa with a scowl on his face and a remote aimed at the TV, was Ford. She’d forbidden him from helping Rob, Harley, and Aaron with the hangi prep, and volunteered herself. Mainly because she was nosy enough to want to get to know Mac’s soon-to-be brother-in-law, but also because God forbid her husband got any sicker.

She’d spent a couple of nights this week sleeping on their sofa as his coughing kept her awake. And in between dosing him with medicine, cleaning up the endless piles of used tissues, listening to him bitch and moan that there was nothing on TV, and that his throat hurt and “could she run out to the store for that lemon-honey drink and some of those really soft tissues that didn’t leave his nose red raw?” she was exhausted.

Holly suspected the vow of “in sickness and in health” was written by a man whose woman had come close to smothering him with a pillow while he was holding out a jar of Vicks VapoRub with puppy dog eyes. Granted, Ford seemed better today than he had yesterday.

“Ford’s the crybaby.” Harley tossed another spadeful of dirt aside. “I take being sick like a man.”

This time it was Holly’s turn to snort. “Really. So it wasn’t you who became glued to a La-Z-Boy a few months ago and had your phone confiscated because you wouldn’t stop texting Bree with requests?”

“Mate—she took your phone?” Aaron chortled and punched Harley’s arm. “How long did it take to get it back?”

Harley twisted his lips. “Two days—shut up, Hol.”

Holly poked out her tongue at him then laughed.

“We finished here?” Harley asked his dad while he inspected the hole he and Aaron had dug. “I’ve got a couple of things to do at home while Tāne’s still having his afternoon nap.”

“Go on, then, son,” Rob said. “Hol, you go on inside and wash up. Denise’ll chew my ear off for letting you get dirty.”

“Bree likes me dirty.” Harley passed his spade to his dad. “Maybe I’d better take off now before she can’t restrain herself any longer.”

“You do that.” Holly brushed specks of dirt off her shirt left there by the rocks and wood she’d lugged across the yard for the hangi fire. “Make a run for it before she jumps your bones.”

Inside, Holly updated Denise and Bree on the guys’ progress then slipped into the living room to check on Ford. She’d dragged him to see Joe yesterday morning, just to be a hundred percent sure it was nothing more serious than a bad head cold—and it wasn’t. Even though she’d rather lug rocks and wood than deal with her cranky husband, she still had to restrain herself from jumping his bones at the sight of him stretched out on his mum’s sofa.

Nothing wrong with his hearing as he turned toward her when she hovered in the living room doorway.

“Hey, babe,” he said.

Nothing wrong with his sex appeal either, as he sent her a smile that destroyed her remaining annoyance at smelling like menthol for the past week.

“I’m, uh, just going to have a quick shower,” she said. “I’ve got wood chips everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” Ford’s dark eyes glittered.

“In places you wouldn’t believe.” She angled her head toward the TV and the freeze-framed screen of whatever Netflix show Ford had chosen to binge-watch. “I’ll bring you another lemon and honey drink when I’m done.”

She backed out of the room before she had any more wicked thoughts about how damn sexy her husband’s voice was with just a little raspy leftover cold in it.

Hot spray pounded down on her bare skin a few minutes later in the Komekes’ guest bathroom shower. Holly hummed a few bars of “Santa, Baby” and shook her tail feather, reliving the expression on Ford’s face when he’d seen her lip-syncing her heart out. The glass shower door swept open, bringing with it a rush of cooler air. She yelped, spun, nearly slipped, and then was crushed by hard, hot, naked Ford muscles as he backed her under the spray to the stall’s wall.

Her senses overloaded from all the hard, hot nakedness, and her brain misfired with deprived female horny hormones. For a good thirty seconds, Holly couldn’t utter anything other than a gut-deep groan as Ford dipped his head and nuzzled wet kisses along her shoulder.

She twined her arms around his neck and held him close, reveling in the skin-to-skin contact—since the past week he’d had all that yumminess covered with layers of flannel and wool. God, he felt so good. So strong, and solid, and healthy. She arched her spine, shoulders bumping into the shower stall, her pelvis grinding into his.

“Wait a minute—you can’t kiss me—you’re sick,” she gasped.

His eyes narrowed, fingers tightening on her hips as his chest rose on a ragged inhale. He let his breath ease out, leaning forward to use the hard length of himself to pin her to the wall. “I’m about to sex you up with my mother and sister-in-law and nephew next door, and you’re worried about sharing spit?”

“So many things wrong with that sentence, Mr. Germ Ground Zero.” Holly squirmed trying to get out from under him. Her fingers skidded over his wet skin and she slapped his shoulder ineffectually. She had zero chance of making all that hard-packed muscle move off her unless he was in a cooperative mood. And Ford’s fierce I’m gonna make you scream my name expression suggested cooperation and compromise weren’t on his agenda for the next few minutes.

“But more importantly,” she continued, “what are you doing in here?”

Furrows appeared on his brow as if he was concentrating really hard on thinking of the answer. “Didn’t I just tell you I’m here to sex your brains out?”

He rubbed an impressive erection against her belly and slid a hand up her waist and over her rib cage to brush against the underside of her breast.

Her nipples were on board with shower sex and they sent the all systems go signal to every part of her anatomy. Everything went slippery hot and shivery, with the exception of her tongue which momentarily glued itself to the roof of her mouth.

“Uh, ’kay,” she muttered then swiped her tongue along her top lip to catch some drips. “But what about…” She tilted her head toward the wall.

“Bree is keeping my mum occupied wrapping last-minute gifts. She told me we had at least fifteen minutes if she taped the wrapping paper incorrectly and Mum had to redo them to perfection.” He hauled her up into his arms.

“Nice of her.” Holly grinned down at him and hung on tight. “Considering all the wicked things we can do with fifteen minutes.”

“Like using up all the hot water?”

“We’ll tell them we were decongesting you with the steam,” she said, then lowered her head and kissed him.

Thoroughly.

Germs, scherms. What the hell, it was Christmas.