Page 38 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
Her lips trembled and pulled down into not quite a pout but definitely an unhappy expression. “Over? But it’s so early!”
“Yeah,” Addy jumped in. “Why is it so short?”
“Some people prefer shorter excursions because they can’t be in the cold for that long,” I said tactfully, figuring that was exactly the reason that Jeannie had chosen this specific tour. Would some people think we were silly for paying for someone to show us around the city and tell us tidbits about the buildings and history that we’d ignored to talk to each other? Sure. But it was worth it for the photos in the manila envelopes. Besides, I had the disposable income, so why not? I didn’t believe in hoarding money. Saving for the future, sure, but some things were worth splurging on.
“He means me,” Max said, and he didn’t sound offended in the least. Was there anything that could bother this kid? Then again, being so sick when you were so young probably gave youa different outlook on life. “This is a lot of fun, but I think I need to warm up. Mama, can I have my chair again?”
“Of course, big man. Coming right up.”
“I see,” Addy said, nodding gravely. “So, what you need is a warm activity. With not a lot of movement.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Addy looked at me, and I realized that she wasn’t just learning about her new friend, but she was looking to me for a solution.
Oh.
Abruptly, I found myself needing a low-impact but warm winter activity so the kids could extend their night. Sure, I could say no, but Christmas only came once a year, so why not pack as much fun into it as we could?
Besides, it wasn’t like I wanted the night to end either.
An idea came to me. It wasn’t exactly a banger, but it should suffice.
“You know, there’s this big subdivision at the edge of the south side that always has all sorts of crazy light displays. I think one even has a whole musical setup. If you want, we can all jump in my van and go there together? Maybe stop and get some hot chocolates and coffees to enjoy while we drive around?”
Max’s face lit up again, which was cute at first. I chuckled when Jeannie’s face took on the exact same expression. It was a bit uncanny, honestly.
“That sounds great, actually,” Jeannie said. “And you don’t mind driving?”
“Not at all. Come on, it’s gonna be fun.”
Chapter 11
Jeannie
Mommy-Mobile Memories
I was having somuch fun, it actually felt a little illegal. Wild, because I was just sitting in a mini-van, sipping my overly syrupy coffee and pointing to different light displays all around us. Not exactly what teenage me would consider a crazy night on the town, but whatever, I was old now, and it was what it was.
Well,oldaccording to my teenage self. Thirty was basically ancient, and honestly, my lower back agreed.
“I think the musical one is down this cul-de-sac,” Remy said, his excitement making his lyrical accent more pronounced.
It was funny, I was familiar with Creole culture from television, but those accents were so thick that some were even borderline incomprehensible. But Remy’s wasn’t like that at all. Although he did say he was from the area, I couldn’t help but think that it was a bit strange that we had our own sub-cultures in America that weren’t really talked about all that often.
“I think I see it! I think I see it!” Max cheered from the back, in a spare booster seat that Remy happened to have. I knew itwasn’t exactly common for nine-year-olds to need one, but with his low bodyweight, we kept using one for safety.
“Me too, buddy,” Remy answered, just as thrilled, and my stomach did a little flip at that.
The way Remy treated my son was giving me some serious butterflies, and I wasn’t entirely sure they were appropriate. As far as I knew, he was simply being kind and generous, but here I was, thirsting after him like I’d never tasted water.
It really wasn’t like me.
But what was a woman supposed to do when faced with such sweetness, a dashing smile, and green eyes that could melt frozen butter? On top of that, he was funny and had made my kid’s night. Ugh. Swoonworthy.
I tried to remind myself to keep that twitterpation in check, however. Just because Remy was being kind didn’t mean he deserved to be objectified. Didn’t I hate when random men did that to me? Or at least that was what the prim and proper side of my brain kept saying. The other part wanted to peel his shirt off with my teeth.
What was he wearing under that light coat of his? A flannel? A Henley? A muscle tank? God, his broad, thick, and muscled frame would look droolworthy in a fitted shirt.
