Page 44 of The Santa Rules
He shrugs. “She needed more for her roof.”
“It was the last one, and it’s your favorite candy. It was nice, thank you.”
“Shhh, you’ll ruin my street cred.”
“I think that went out the window when you were counting pubes.”
He turns away, ignoring my jab, but I see the corner of his mouth quirk briefly into a smile.
Hardy proudly holds up his house, and as soon as he does, it collapses in on itself and he drops it onto the counter with a thud. “Son of a b?—”
“Daddy!”
“Sorry, Avery.”
“Need some help over there?” I tease.
“I can build a whole freaking workshop from scratch with my bare hands, but I can’t figure out the right icing ratio to glue cookies together,” he huffs.
It’s obvious he’s getting worked up, so I walk over to him and place a hand on his upper back, rubbing small circles as I lower my voice so only he can hear. “You’re doing an amazing job, Hardy. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Avery hasn’t stopped smiling this whole time.”
“Really? Now I feel like an ass because I was too focused on my house to notice. There are too many distractions. My focus should be on her,” he huffs, and a knot of emotion forms in my throat, trying not to read deeper into his words.
“She doesn’t expect perfection from you, just your presence. The important thing is you’re doing it together. That’s what matters.”
“I’m not good at this,” he admits.
“No parent is. We just figure it out along the way and hope we don’t fuck up our kid too bad in the process.”
He chuckles and then leans against the sink, dropping hishead as he blows out a breath. Once he collects himself, we start cleaning up the mess as the kids wash up and plop onto the couch to watch TV. I watch as Avery slowly climbs along the couch until she’s snuggled into Isaac’s side. I elbow Hardy and tilt my head toward them. I swear there’s a twinkle in his eye when he watches them, but he shakes it off and continues cleaning up the kitchen.
Something’s changed in the last few days, and I can feel him pulling away. I try not to let it bother me, but it’s the last thought in my brain as I drift off to sleep that night.
CHAPTER 14
HARDY
Somehow, I keep finding myself alone with this woman, and I’m having a damn hard time trying to stop myself from taking exactly what I know we both want. But I shouldn’t complicate things. She teaches my daughter. If we start something and it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to put Avery in the middle of it. Avery has to come first. And her words from the other night keep playing on a loop in my head.
“Does that mean I have to share you with someone else like the fire people?”
And what if Bella sees how broken I really am and decides I’m not worth the trouble? I have a lot of baggage, and I don’t want to subject her to it. And what if she thinks less of me when she finds out what I’ve done? But I don’t think she’d push me away. There’s just something about her that feels safe. Like home.
But this back-and-forth is wearing on me, and I know she’s picking up on it. I’m not sure how much longer I can resist her.
Two days after the gingerbread-house-that-couldn’t, we’re at Bella’s for another planning session while Avery is with the sitter since we don’t want her to see this part of Santa’s Workshop. Isaac is at a friend’s house which means we’re alone.
We’ve spent most of the afternoon sorting items that we collected at the firehouse drop-off box into piles, deciding what’s usable and what category it should be in.
I can’t stop staring at this woman’s ass in her shorts every time she bends over to place a toy in a pile, and I know she’s caught on to my leering. It’s almost become a game where she’ll pick up a toy, saunter across the room, and then slowly bend to place it in the pile. It’s not the most efficient way to sort shit, but I’m not complaining.
Grabbing a handful out of the box, I carefully drop each item into the appropriate pile. When I look over at Bella, she’s now bending over with her butt away from me, but I can see all the way down her shirt.
Fuck me. Why can’t I be with her, again?
“Something you want to talk about, Grumpy Gus?” She stands and crosses her arms under her breasts, pushing them up as they spill slightly out of the top of her shirt.
“Nope,” I say, as I try to ignore the vixen tempting the last of my willpower.
