Page 108 of The Risk Taker

He laughs, stacking his money in a messy, uneven pile that makes my eye twitch. “Who knew you were so competitive?”

“He gets it from his daddy,” Mom says as she passes behind us, giving Logan a light pat on the shoulder—completely oblivious to the fact that we’re practically playing footsie under the table.

Logan chuckles, and I glance at him before I can stop myself.

He looks too good for his own damn good, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and my old Colton U hoodie. There’s flour on his jaw from when he helped my mom make gingerbread cookies this morning, and it’s taking everything in me not to lean across the table and kiss him in front of everyone.

They have no idea what’s happening between us. No idea that every night, I crawl into his arms. That my body still remembers every way he’s touched me. If they did, I doubt they’d let him sleep in my room, knowing what we get up to in there.

Christmas Eve is basically a mini-Christmas in my family. We spend the whole day in pajamas, watching movies, playing board games, and eating our body weight in chocolate. So, I take full advantage, leaning forward to grab a brownie shaped like a Christmas tree and bite into it.

“I know you rigged this,” Dad grumbles from across the table, squinting down at Mom. “No one gets both Boardwalk and Park Place. It’s statistically impossible.”

I lean back in my chair, popping the rest of my brownie into my mouth. “You say that every year, and every year Mom proves you wrong.”

Isabella laughs from where she’s curled up next to Mom. “Face it, Dad. You’re just bad at Monopoly.”

Dad exhales through his nose, pretending to sulk, but the corner of his mouth lifts anyway when he glances at Mom. “Still love you, even if you bankrupt me every year.”

Mom laughs, reaching across the board to pat his hand. “That’s good, because I plan on doing it again next Christmas. Now hand over your properties.”

I glance at Logan just in time to catch him watching them with something soft in his eyes. His lips twitch when he notices me looking, and he nudges my foot under the table.

The game drags on for what feels like forever—like it always does—and two and a half hours later, Mom wipes the floor with us, bankrupting us all.

Eventually, the board gets packed away and replaced with some snacks and hot chocolate, while we watch whatever Christmas movie Isabella picked.

Logan shifts closer on the couch until his thigh presses against mine. His touch shouldn’t still do things to me, but it does. My pulse kicks up, even though the contact somehow calms me at the same time.

“It’s midnight,” Mom says, her voice bright as she gets up and moves toward the tree.

Izzy lets out a little squeal and pops to her feet. “Merry Christmas!” she says, throwing her arms around me.

I laugh, hugging her back, squeezing once before she bounces toward the tree. I turn my head to look at Logan, who’s confused as hell. “At midnight, we each open one present.”

He chuckles. “Because waiting eight more hours would just besocruel.”

I roll my eyes and lift off the couch, grabbing the small box I wrapped a few days ago, and walk over to him. “Merry Christmas.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You got me something?”

I smile. “Just open it.”

He looks at me for a beat longer than normal before reaching out to take it. He tears into the wrapping paper, impatient like a kid, and when the box finally opens, he lets out a laugh.

Inside is a black mug withRookie of the Yearprinted in bold white letters.

He grins, shaking his head. “You did not.”

“Oh, I did,” I say, biting back a smile.

He lowers the mug, looking up at me with those soft green eyes, and smiles. “Thank you. I love it.”

“It’s just a joke gift,” I say, even though his grin’s already making my chest tighten.

His hand shifts, locking his pinky with mine when no one’s watching. “Yeah, but it’s mine.”

It takes a while for the night to wind down, and when the end credits start rolling, I stretch, rubbing a hand over my face. “Alright,” I murmur. “I’m gonna head up before I pass out.”