It was Christmas Eve at Tannyhill, and the house was glowing. Lights twinkled on the tree, garlands lined the fireplace, and everything looked perfect. But the real star of the night? Rafe, standing across the room in a white sweater that somehow made him even more irresistible.

“Hey,” he called out, catching you staring. His smirk deepened as he walked over, hands stuffed casually into his pockets. “You good over there, or should I grab a mirror so you can keep checking me out?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm. “Bold of you to assume I was looking at you.”

“Oh, please,” he teased, leaning closer. “You couldn’t tear your eyes off me if you tried.”

“Funny,” you shot back, smiling slightly. “I was actually wondering why you’re ‘hiding’ instead of helping Wheezie with her mountain of presents.”

Rafe shrugged, glancing toward the chaos by the tree. “She’s got Sarah. And let’s be real—I’d probably just mess up the bows.” He smirked again. “I’m better at unwrapping things anyway.”

Your jaw dropped as your face turned hot. “Rafe!” you hissed, smacking his arm, but he just laughed, clearly proud of himself.

Later, as everyone gathered near the fireplace, Rafe sat beside you, his arm casually slung over your shoulders. He’d been sweet all night, sneaking little kisses when no one was looking and even grabbing you a second slice of pie when you said you were too full to get up.

But the biggest surprise came after the presents.

“Come on,” he said, tugging your hand and leading you to the balcony, the cold air nipping at your skin.

“Where are we going?” you asked, shivering slightly.

Without a word, Rafe slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. “You were cold,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“What’s this about?” you asked, blushing.

He pointed above you at the mistletoe hanging overhead, then leaned in, kissing you softly and passionately. When he pulled back, his stupid smirk was back in full force.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”