Page 49 of The Art of Being Merry
“You can put it on your list.”
“Yeah, but I need it before Christmas, otherwise I can’t wear it till next year. And where’s the fun in that?” He throws his hands in the air, resigning his fate.
This is why I’m not a father. I’d be like, “Let’s go right now to the store and get you one.” But I know that’s not how parenting works. You can’t give in to their every whim. No one wants a spoiled brat on their hands.
“How about you make some, Mama? That would be fun for you.” Atlas’s suggestion is kind of genius, and if by the way Clementine’s eyes flicker, she agrees.
“Hmm. That I could probably do.” She glances at my hat, her eyes studying it, her brain working its magic. “Dax, mind if I take a picture of the hat?”
“I’ll do you one better and leave it here.”
“Um, yeah, okay. I’ll get it back to you the next time I see you.”
“No rush. I’ve got a bunch.” “A bunch” is an understatement, but they don’t need to know that. “Who wants a donut?”
Until the question is out of my mouth, it doesn’t occur to me to ask Clementine’s permission before offering her children the sugary snack. I’m sure they’ve eaten breakfast, but that doesn’t mean she wants them eating crap and drinking hot chocolate. Perhaps I should have confirmed it was okay to bring treats before I showed up with them. I figured it would be a sweet treat, but now I’m second-guessing it and questioning how good I am at playing this “pseudo-uncle” thing.
I gesture her to the side, away from the boys’ listening ears. “Is it okay I brought donuts and hot chocolate?”
She seems confused by my question. “Sure, why not?”
“There’s a lot of sugar in both. Maybe you don’t want them starting their day hyped and wired on sugar.”
“That’s sweet of you to think, after the fact,” she teases. Some of my worry fades away. “I don’t want them to start every day with sugar and chocolate, but some days it’s more than okay. Besides, it’s hard to turn down a donut when someone goes out of his way to bring it.” She winks, and I wish I could say I wasn’t affected by the action.
I swipe my hand across my brow like I’ve seen her do. “Phew. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of your wrath.”
“Pretty sure donuts and hot chocolate won’t ever land you there.” She puts her hand on my chest. I’m not sure why, but I don’t mind her touch.
“What will?”
Her eyes roll. “As if I’d tell you.”
“But if you don’t, how will I know how to stay away from it?”
Her eyes blink quickly as she contemplates my question. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.” With the hand still on my chest, she taps three times. Like it’s not out of the ordinary for her to touch me. As if our relationship is at that stage of intimacy.
Guess that’s my permission to challenge her.
This could be fun.
“I’m gonna try that coffee now, k?”
“Yep.” I keep my answer short, lest she’s able to hear the sensationsof what her touch does to me.
I let her break the contact.
She’s wearing skinny jeans today, the kind that mold to her skin but still have some give. I can’t decide whether her ass looks better in these or the leggings she wears most days. When she fits her hands in her pockets, my decision is solidified: these. Definitely these.
I join the three of them at the table where Clementine divvies out the donuts onto the plates one of the boys retrieved. She sits and takes a sip of the coffee, her eyes fluttering closed as the flavors fill her mouth. But what gets me the most is her moan. I tamp down the arousal trying to break free. I’m not prepared to explain why I’m hard to her or her kids. However, it would be easier to do if she kept the moans to a minimum.
After swallowing, her eyes open, locking on me. “Pray tell, Dax. What is this magical concoction of flavors tantalizing my taste buds?”
“A Merry Mintmas latte. Amazing, right?”
“I’m not sure ‘amazing’ is the right word, but since I don’t have Willa’s talent with words and my brain is a bit mushy from the taste, I’m rolling with it.”
“Is it magnifique?” Atlas provides. “That’s one of Aunt Willa’s fancy words.”
