“I love Christmas.” Bryson grinned as he moved his hand to the small of my back. Dimples formed from the corners of his mouth to his cheekbones, causing a woman in our aisle to swoon.

Full-blooded Native American, and ridiculously sexy, he received no shortage of female adoration.

As much as I wanted to grouse about the nightmare to come, the twinkle in his eye made me bite my tongue.

Of course, he loved Christmas. He was a morning person after all. Morning people had a certain outlook on life that night owls didn’t.