Just like that, Allie had located the crack in the foundation of his hardened heart, the tiny fissure that allowed her to squeeze her way past his dark memories that were the antithesis of a Norman Rockwell painting. Hudson’s perspective shifted as he realized he couldn’t see beyond the two people who were his life. He couldn’t imagine living out his days in the darkness that shadowed him like the Grim-fucking-Reaper. But like death, his memories were always there, lingering in the background, waiting for the opportunity to slam him into a brick wall.

Shaking off the residual feelings from his trip into Christmas past, Hudson engaged himself in Christmas present. Allie need him, needed the distraction of throwing herself headlong into the holidays. And fuck him, he’d wear a goddamn Santa suit if it would keep a smile on her face.

“Okay.” He brushed his lips against hers, then teased her with slow flicks of his tongue.

Allie smiled broadly against his mouth. “And when we’re done shopping we can swing by Daley Plaza . . .” She rambled as he dipped his head and his tongue did a slow sweep across her collarbone. “The Christkindlmarket is open.”

“The what?” He moved lower, his tongue curling around her nipple, his mouth enveloping the taught peak, then sucking.

“The Christmas village. The tents are all set up. We can get a tree there, I think . . .” When her nipple tightened and swelled in his mouth, he shifted to give her other breast the same attention. “And maybe pick out an ornament,” she continued, carrying on a conversation with herself.

“Jesus Christ, woman. I’m hard as a rock here. Can we talk about this shit later?” He moved down her stomach, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

“I wonder if they can deliver it this weekend?”

He flattened his tongue and licked leisurely through her slick lips. As he circled her opening, Allie’s breath hitched and a soft moan rushed out of her mouth. “Oh . . . okay . . .”

Jackpot.

He felt her muscles tighten around his tongue as he tormented her tender flesh, completely seduced by her taste.

“That’s it . . .” He glanced up from between her legs, across all that perfect female skin. He wanted to see her face, but her back was arched and all he could see was the tips of her nipples as her chest heaved.

“Don’t stop,” Allie begged. Her fingers twisted almost painfully in his hair.

“Wouldn’t even if I could, baby,” he said, smiling to himself as he hooked her leg over his shoulder.

Chapter Seventeen

Allie stared up at the fifty-foot spruce that towered over Daley Plaza. All at once memories of her as a small girl, wearing a white fur coat and standing on a dais between her parents as the mayor flipped the switch to light the city’s official Christmas tree, filled her mind. She remembered the collective gasp from the people who gathered in front of the stage and the hundreds more who milled around the Christkindlmarket. Year after year she’d had the best seat in the house. But secretly she’d longed to join the other children, eating fried dough covered in powdered sugar while watching with wide eyes as glassblowers created ornaments for their parents to take home and hang on the family tree.

“So what exactly is a Christkind?” Hudson asked, pulling her from her childhood memories. He’d groused about their little holiday adventure, lobbying hard for a day in bed as opposed to one spent among “the masses of people buying items they neither need nor really want.” But he’d come around once they were out on the snow-covered streets. And looking at him now, his hand linked with hers as they stood side by side amidst complete holiday mayhem, Allie couldn’t help but smile. For as different as their backgrounds were, when it came to the holidays at least, they had one thing in common: neither of them had fond memories. As she reveled in the love reflected in his warm gaze, Allie realized this was a second chance for both of them. They had each other now, and together they could create new memories that would slowly replace the old ones. Together they would find their way.

“Well, the Christkind,” she began, reciting the story she’d heard dozens of times growing up, “is a fairylike angel, dressed in white-and-gold robes and wearing a crown on top of her long golden hair. According to folklore, she is the bearer of gifts to children in German-speaking countries, leaving the presents under the Christmas tree and disappearing before they can catch a glimpse of her.”

“So a cross between the tooth fairy and Santa Claus?” Hudson somehow managed to keep a straight face, but the amusement in his eyes was evident.

Allie laughed. “Something like that.”

“And all this?” He gestured to the red-and-white striped tents arranged in rows under the shadow of the steel Picasso.

“This is the Christkindlmarket.”

He lifted a dark brow. “Which is?”

“C’mon,” she said, tugging him. “I’ll show you.”

Hudson chuckled quietly as she pulled him into the crowd. Although only a few blocks away in actual proximity, the Christkindlmarket seemed a world away from the retail giants of State Street and the Magnificent Mile. In the plaza outside Daley Center, dozens of merchants sat in small tents selling classic German products like nutcrackers, cuckoo clocks, and beer steins, while others offered handmade jewelry, clothes, and toys. Some even demonstrated their handiwork for customers, carving wood or blowing glass for those captivated by the idea of purchasing items directly from their workbenches.

They strolled hand in hand through the maze of tents until Hudson paused in front of one selling what appeared to be small wooden carousels. Each had several tiers decorated with intricately carved figurines and were surrounded by small white candles at their base. On top sat what looked like helicopter blades.

“We had one of these when I was a kid,” he said. His voice was so soft, Allie barely heard him.

When he was a kid. Hudson hardly ever mentioned his past, must less his childhood. A hundred questions popped into Allie’s head. But wanting to take things at the pace he needed, she kept herself from bombarding him and instead asked only one. “What is it?”

“A Christmas pyramid. When the candles are lit the heat rises and spins the propellers.” He reached out and with one finger gave the delicate paddles a gentle push. All at once the tiers began to rotate in alternating directions.

“It’s beautiful.” Growing up, her house had been decorated by the same people who did the windows at Marshall Field’s. And yet as she watched the pyramid turn, picturing a wide-eyed Hudson watching it as a child, she realized she’d never seen a holiday decoration she liked more.

“Nicky was obsessed with the damn thing, constantly trying to figure out what made it work. Only problem was, as soon as he touched it all the blades would fall out.” His lips were pressed together in a hard line, but at the mention of his brother a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He would get so frustrated. But then I’d rebuild it for him and he’d do it again not five minutes later.”

Allie touched Hudson’s arm. “You’ve always been so good with him.”

Hudson frowned. “My mom used to put it on the table like a centerpiece. Even after . . .” His voice trailed off and they stood quietly for several moments until the spinning slowed to a stop.

“Let’s get one,” Allie said. “We can put it on the dining room table at your penthouse.”