Nick and Noel's Christmas Playlist (Mistletoe Romance #1)(2)

“Let me get the door, since you’re packing that big-ass bag.”

Noel unlocked the front door with her key and pushed the door open. Nick stepped over the threshold behind her and the familiar scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped him. The house was dimly lit in morning light, revealing the white walls of the living room splattered with framed family photos. The plaid green-and-white sofas his mother loved were set against the walls with decorative blankets tossed over the backs. His dad’s brown leather recliner sat at an angle, looking just as beat up as he remembered. The long chestnut coffee table positioned in the middle of the furniture with a decorative centerpiece on top of rustic fall leaves, marking the changing of the seasons.

As they rounded the corner into the kitchen, a loud bay destroyed the peaceful quiet of his childhood home. The scuttle of nails on the wood floor echoed down the hall as Butch, his parents’ nine-year-old bloodhound, emerged at a lope. His big black ears flapped up and down as he raced toward them. His jowls, dripping with jellified drool, went up at the same time, giving the illusion he was flying.

Nick dropped his bag and kneeled. “Butch, my man.”

Butch launched all one hundred and sixty pounds of himself against Nick’s chest, knocking him back against the wall. Wet doggy kisses rained down all over his face and he wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck. Butch was barely a year when he’d left the first time, but he’d never forgotten Nick. Every leave, the big hound greeted him at the door with the same enthusiasm.

Laughing, Nick pushed Butch away and the dog turned his attention to Noel. Abruptly, the big hound buried his head in her crotch and she stumbled back with a gasp, cradling the dog’s head in her hands as she tried to remove him from the awkward location. Nick burst out laughing as Noel wrestled with the dog.

“Dammit, Butch! I hate when you do that.”

The dog pulled his head back and released another delighted bay. Then, he turned around and leaned his entire body against Noel so hard she hit the counter. Her hat fell off and landed on the floor.

“Ouch, crap.”

Nick chuckled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure, the big klutz just broke my hip, but I’m good.”

The dog leaned his head back against her, exposing his neck and she obliged him by scratching his chest.

“You are a monster. Good thing you’re cute.”

“What in the blasted hell is going on out here?” a deep voice boomed.

The shape of a man stood in the hallway clad in a dark robe. He flipped on the kitchen light, blinking against the brightness.

Nick climbed to his feet with a smile. “Hey Pop.”

Christopher Winters’s craggy face broke out into a wide grin, his salt and pepper hair standing on end. “Nick! You said you’d be here after Thanksgiving!”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you sure as hell did.” His dad held his arms wide. “Come here.”

Nick crossed the tile floor and flung his arms around him. His dad returned the hard hug, pounding his back. Although he now stood several inches taller than his father, Chris had a wider frame than his son. And a rounder stomach.

His father pulled back, patting Nick’s shoulders. “Well, take off your coat and sit a spell. You hungry? We’ve got bacon, eggs, hash browns—”

“I’m good, Dad.” Nick shrugged out of his coat and took Noel’s coat and hat when she handed them to him.

“Since you’re hanging yours up, anyway,” she said.

“Of course, princess. My mama always taught me to dote on my womenfolk.”

“Okay, too far.”

His dad ignored their conversation, his head buried in the fridge. “We also have ham! You still like meat, right?”

“Yeah, I do, Dad, but I don’t need anything. We grabbed coffee when we left the airport.”

Noel elbowed him. “That was an hour and a half ago. I’m starving.”

Chris pointed his finger at his only son. “Coffee isn’t sustenance, it’s a stimulant. A man cannot live on Starbucks alone.”

“Chris, what’s going on?” a woman called from down the hallway.

Victoria Winters appeared at the edge of the kitchen in her furry pink bathrobe and messy blond hair, staring at them. Her hazel eyes widened behind her dark-framed glasses when her gaze landed on her son.

“Look who wanted to surprise us!” His father said.

With a squeal, she launched herself at Nick and he caught her with a grunt of amusement. Nick embraced his emotional mother as she bawled into his shirtfront.

“Gee, Mom, I thought you’d be glad to have me home.”

She smacked his back. “Of course I am. These are happy tears.”

His mom pulled away and squeezed his face between her hands. “You look gaunt. You haven’t been eating enough.”

The statement didn’t require a response.

His dad crossed his arms over his chest, throwing him under the bus. “He was just telling me how coffee was a balanced breakfast.”

“We will just see about that!” His mom kissed his dad as she passed him in the kitchen and his gaze followed her. After thirty years together, the love between his parents never dimmed. Nick wanted what his parents had: a relationship based on love, respect, and mutual life goals.