The town outside is just starting to stir on Thanksgiving morning, but in here, it’s peaceful.


    After my sister passed away, this holiday has been hollow for me. It used to be nothing more than a press release about how much Banks Advertising and Marketing Firm donated. There were a few posed photos at charity gs. The night was filled with endless champagne and cameras, most of which were staged and empty.


    During the holidays, I went through the motions of crossing things off a list instead of celebrating.


    Not anymore.


    Today, I’m looking forward to spending my time with family and friends. I have so damn much to be grateful for, especially the woman who’s asleep in my arms. I smile, thinking about Julie, who carved herself into me without even trying.


    I tighten my hold on her.


    Eden would’ve adored her. She would’ve seen what I see—how Julie doesn’t give a damn about myst name, my bank ount, or the skyline I used to worship. She would’ve loved her for giving me back the one thing I thought I’d lost forever … a sense of home.


    Julie stirs, mumbling something incoherent, then tips her head back with a sleepy smile. “Happy Thanksgiving.”


    “You too.” I kiss her temple.


    A half hourter, we’re wrapped in nkets on her condo balcony, peppermint cocoa warming our hands while the Cozy Creek Thanksgiving parade begins on Main Street below.


    It’s ridiculous and charming—exactly like this town.


    A giant intable pumpkin bobs between two pickup trucks. Kids in construction-paper pilgrim hats wave from the back of a hay wagon. The high-school marching band stumbles through a holiday medley, horns ring just off-key enough to make Julie snort.


    I nce at her flushed cheeks and see the sparkle in her eyes. “You know, we only have onest thing to check off the naughty list.”


    Her head whips toward me. “You want to do that now?”


    “When else will we have another opportunity?”


    “Christmas,” she tells me.


    “Do you want to wait until then?” I ask her.


    “Nope.”


    “That’s what I thought.”


    I smirk, dropping to my knees and sliding between the balcony wall and her so she can still watch the parade. I slide her pajama shorts and panties down. She adjusts the nket on her shoulders, then nces down at me.


    “You’re sure?”


    “Hell yeah. Enjoy it, sweetheart.”


    She gasps when my tongue slides over her. Her hips jerk forward, and her knuckles go white against the railing. I can hear the parade noise of people cheering, horns in the distance, and the rumble of engines. The only thing that matters is how sweet she tastes on my tongue.


    “Tell me what you see,” I mutter. My breath is hot against her, and my fingers open her thighs wider.


    Her voice breaks. “Th-the—oh?—”


    Her head tips back, her throat working as she forces herself to keep watching the parade. “The Cozy Creek Elementary cheer squad is wearing matching sweaters …”


    I suck her clit between my lips, humming approval. Her body jolts, her knees already trembling.


    “What else?”


    Julie’sugh cracks into a moan. “N-Nick—the Boy Scout troop is in a float that’s built like a giant turkey.”


    I thrust my tongue inside her, and she bites her lip.


    “Keep going,” I whisper.


    Her voice is hoarse now, half breathless, half daring. “The … oh … don’t stop … the middle school marching band. They’re ying ‘Jingle Bells,’ but … oh my … they’repletely off-key.”


    I drag two fingers along her soaked slit, circling before pushing inside, curling just right. Her words stumble, dissolving into gasps.


    “T-there’s … the Cozy Coffee float. It’s a giant … cup of coff?—”


    I grin against her, continuing my war on her pussy as she tries and fails to finish the thought. Her hips rock, chasing me, her voice pitching higher as the crowd below cheers.


    “You wanted this fantasy.” I growl, pleasuring her with my fingers, sucking hard on her swollen clit. “So, give it to me, sweetheart. Let go.”


    Her cry rips out of her, muffled when she buries her face against her arm, body convulsing as the orgasm tears through her. Her body shudders, and I don’t stop until she’s nearly copsing, the nket slipping off her shoulders.


    I press a kiss to her thigh, lingering there, tasting her skin. Then I look up at her, grinning. “List is officiallyplete.”


    Herugh is breathless. “You’re incredible.”


    I slide away from her and stand, picking the nket up and cing it over her shoulder.


    “How was it?”


    “Amazing,” she says, squeezing her thighs together as we watch Santa finish the parade.


    Julie leads me back inside, and we climb into bed and watch the Macy’s parade on TV. She teases me about which float I’d sponsor.


    She grins as the parade marches on.


    “Sweetheart, the list may be finished, but I think we should start a new one.”


    Her smile widens. “A couples one?”


    “Hell yeah. And we’ll check off every damn box together,” I say.<hr>


    Hourster, we’re walking up the stone steps of my father’s mansion. The air is crisp and full of woodsmoke. Julie’s hand is tucked into mine, her navy coat cinched at the waist, her red hair gleaming in the fading light.


    The house glitters like a cathedral behind us, windows glowing with candles and chandeliers, voices leaking out from within. Family. Friends. Everyone of importance who means anything to us is here.


    Julie pauses on the porch, taking a moment to look at me. “You seem nervous.”


    “I’m not. Not even a little,” I admit, my pulse steady. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”


    She smiles, but before she can say anything, I drop to one knee.


    Her gasp catches in the cold November air; her white-gloved hand flies to her mouth.


    “Julie Lovnd,” I say, pulling the ring from my pocket. It’s the one that’s been burning a hole in my pocket since I picked it up from Easton Calloway in New York. “You turned my October upside down. You made me believe in forever again. You are my home, my peace, my true love, and I don’t want to waste another second without you. Will you please make me the happiest man on the and spend the rest of your life with me? Will you please marry me, sweetheart?”


    Tears slide down her cheeks as sheughs. “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”


    The door behind us opens wide, and suddenly, the house erupts with cheers. My mother, stepdad, Asher, Billie, Harper, Brody, Dyson, Miranda, Zane, Autumn, ire, Julie’s parents, and even the Fairy Godmothers are here. Every face we love is gathered inside, pping, and some are already crying.


    Julie turns to me, and I slide the orange diamond onto her finger.


    She covers her mouth. “Nick … this is too much.”


    I chuckle, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “Never. No limits for you, sweetheart.”


    Our mouths crash together on the porch of my stepfather’s mansion, which is close to the ski resort. Everyone we love steps outside to congratte us. It’s messy, loud, and perfect. The people who matter most to us are sharing in this moment.


    ire shrieks so loud that downtown Cozy Creek probably hears it. The Fairy Godmothers fan themselves dramatically, dering it was better than television. Asher ps me hard on the back with a rare, unguarded smile, and even Zane tears up as Autumn squeezes his arm. Billie smiles as Harper and Brody lift their champagne sses toward us. Everyone who matters is here.


    When we finally break apart, Julie presses her forehead to mine, her voice full of joy. “I love you so much, Nick Banks.”


    “Love you too, Little Red.”


    Our friends’ and families’ excitement echoes through the yard, and suddenly, we’re being pulled inside. We’re hugged and congratted, and champagne flutes are ced in our hands. Everyone wants a piece of this moment, and I don’t mind sharing it with them.


    Just a few months ago, Julie and I made a fake-dating pact that quickly turned into a hookup situation.


    Now, this gorgeous, stubborn, pumpkin-obsessed woman is going to be my wife.


    Guess the old saying is true, and the third time really is the charm.