Page 48 of One More Yule Log
Ben looked at him, eyes searching, and he nodded, letting Ben know it was okay.
“I wish Frannie was here. She loves cookies.” Liv licked rice off her fork.
“We’ll put some in the freezer for when she gets back, huh?” Liv could decorate them with her aunt for New Year’s.
“That’s cool. She’ll love it. She called today. She’s having fun, but she misses me.” He loved Olivia’s confidence.
Ben chuckled. “You’re her favorite.”
Liv giggled. “Do you want me to rinse dishes, Daddy?”
“That would be fabulous, honey, thank you.” Ben beamed at her, then turned that smile on him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” Gray stood to take plates to the sink, then stopped to beg a kiss on the way. Ben gave it easily, humming softly against his lips.
He grinned against those sweet lips, just loving the simple intimacy of it.
“Daddy! Gray! That’s nasty!”
Ben laughed softly and surged up, dipping him and kissing him hard.
When they came up for air, Liv was squealing and dancing the ew dance, and they dissolved into laughter, clinging together.
“I do love you, Gray Carrol.” Ben’s words were accompanied by a kiss, a sweet little brush of lips.
“Promise?” His whole body surged again, just like the first time Ben had said it. “I love you too.”
“Oh, you two are gross!”
“Totally. Disgusting.” Ben smiled down at him, the grin just perfect.
“Dishes, Gray! Then we can play a game!” Liv was just laughing like mad.
“Tiddlywinks? Don’t Break the Ice?”
“Daddy! You’re so old!”
“So what would you choose, Miss Liv? Clue? Yahtzee?”
“Sorry. I love Sorry.”
“So do I!” Gray started scraping and cleaning.
“What can I do?”
“Keep your hurt hand clean and dry? Please.”
“Oh, right.” Ben looked at his hand. “I forgot.”
“You get the game, Daddy,” Liv said.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.”
He washed up, then loaded the dishwasher, making sure Ben didn’t sneak in and help. “Next time, we’ll have to make sopapillas, huh?”
“Can we? Do you know how? Real ones?” Liv leaned close like she was sharing state secrets. “Daddy fries flour tortillas and coats them in cinnamon sugar. They’re not the same.”
“That’s more like a bunuelo, huh? I know how if you have a deep skillet or a fryer.” He glanced at Ben in the family room.
