Page 7 of Home For Christmas

“Get out of here. It’s cold, it’s dark, you have a handful of nights until chaos descends on your house. Have a quiet night at home and spoil your boy.”

I flipped him off as I grabbed my coat. “You need to find someone to settle down with so my life isn’t all you talk about.” Zander had dated men and women over the years but hadn’t found the one that completed him yet. Maybe I needed to turn the tables on him and start figuring out what kinky stuff he was into, then I might be able to find him someone. I was convinced his family was too insane and he’d accepted Derek and me too easily to be totally vanilla.

Zander laughed the entire way back to his office. “Don’t hold your breath, Chief.”

I could have argued with him longer, but my brain was already saying it was time to go home. “I’ll see you later, Zander!”

“Bye, Chief!”

I didn’t bother texting Derek. It was just about time for bedtime routines to start, and I knew he’d be busy getting the kids ready for bed. A quick stop at the store on the way back home and I had Derek’s favorite ice cream. Zander was right; I spoiled Derek, but it was too easy not to.

And the way his eyes lit up when I walked in with the bag of ice cream told me exactly why I liked to spoil him so much. Three kids cheered my arrival, but I was mesmerized by the sparkle of excitement and pure joy in Derek’s eyes. It never got old.

Hugs, kisses, an extra story, and fifteen minutes later, Derek and I were tucking the kids into their beds. As soon as the final door was clicked shut, I turned to my husband. “Come on. I think it’s time for you to get a bath.” Somehow he’d ended up with spaghetti sauce on his forehead. With Carter in the house, the possibilities were endless. He looked identical to me but he was a holy terror on legs, and everything he touched seemed to explode. Having a kid like Carter, I fully understood why my mom had always told me it was a good thing I was cute as a kid.

Derek sighed into my shoulder. “Why did we want three kids again?”

I shrugged. “Mom warned us not to have a third. She said the third was the one who rocked your world.”

Derek chuckled softly. “He’s a terror.”

“So was Ellie at his age.”

“At his age? Babe, she’s nearing thirty and still a terror.”

I guided Derek toward our bedroom and directly into the bathroom. It was pointless to dispute that Ellie was a handful. She was sweet and loving and I trusted her with my kids, but she really was a wild child and still kept us reeling. I’d had to pull the conflict of interest card when I got called to a demonstration where a woman had tied herself to a tree in protest of a shopping development. That woman was Ellie. It had only been two years earlier. All I could do was hope Carter would remain as passionate about life as he was at the current moment… and maybe that I’d retire before that point.

As soon as we were in the bathroom, adult Derek began to slip away. A basket of Derek’s favorite bath toys sat in our bathroom and his eyes tracked directly toward them. “Toys, Daddy.”

“Soon, buddy. We need to get you undressed and the tub filled.” Not necessarily in that order. I went to the tub and began to fill it with hot water. After a few years of Derek constantly telling me to make the water hotter, I’d given up on warm baths. My boy liked heat. Until him, I’d never known anyone to bathe in near scalding water. Part of me wondered if it was because he wanted to play longer in the water. I had to give it at least ten minutes to cool off before I could put my hands in to wash him.

Returning to Derek, I worked his sweatshirt off and was greeted with his favorite train shirt. My boy was definitely feeling little, even if he’d looked the part of calm, put-together Dad when I’d walked in the door. I didn’t mention the attire, content to let him slip into his headspace. The further he sank into his role, the more the stress from the outside world slipped away from me. Parenting was a hard job, full of uncertainty and change. Being a sheriff was also exhausting for many of the same reasons. Being Daddy to Derek was easy. There was something comforting in knowing what to expect. I knew my boy and he knew me. We were Daddy and boy before we had kids, and I knew long after the kids left we’d still be Daddy and boy.

As I slid his jeans down his legs, his thick training pants covered in barnyard animals came into view. Gone were the days of sexy, skimpy briefs from when we’d first started dating. There were a few pairs shoved in his underwear drawer, but they only made a rare appearance when Derek was trying to get my attention. More often than not he wore snug-fitting terry cloth briefs with bold piping and trim. That night he’d clearly been struggling with something if he’d pulled out the thicker training pants. My guess was that it had something to do with everything we had going on in the next few weeks. Between his brothers coming here, the kids’ schedules, and us flying to Oklahoma, we were going to have very little downtime.

With Derek stripped naked, his cock no more than half-hard against his balls, I motioned toward the mostly filled tub. “In ya get.”

Derek bounced on the balls of his feet then took my offered hand as he stepped in. A slight hiss, then a deep sigh were the only reactions he made to the water as he sat down. We’d sprung for a ridiculously large soaking tub when we updated the bathroom years earlier. It easily fit Derek and me at the same time, but I’d also heard the rumblings of how it fit Jasper and his men as well. Again, more information than I really needed about my brothers-in-law. I made a mental note to talk to Travis about a similar tub for the guest house.

I took a seat on the toilet lid and let Derek play with his toys until I could touch the water. I passed the time by starting a note on my phone of guest house requirements: large tubs, soundproofed rooms, big beds. Travis was going to think we were hosting sex parties, not our family.

Fifteen minutes passed quickly while Derek zoomed boats and fish around the tub. He’d managed to dump enough water over his head with the little sprinkler cups that poured water from the bottom that washing his hair would be easy. I loved his long hair, but I couldn’t help but be thankful he’d recently cut it so it barely formed a knot on the top of his head when pulled up. It was so thick that washing it when it had been down past his shoulders had become a chore.

I lathered the lavender bodywash in a washcloth and began rubbing it over his chest and shoulders. The soothing scent was a far cry from his normal ginger and mint bodywash or his leather and whiskey aftershave. He leaned into my every touch, soaking up the attention I was giving him. By the time I had his body washed, his cock had actually deflated more, speaking to how much he’d needed this night. I thanked Zander for letting me get out of there hours earlier than planned so we could share this time together.

The lavender shampoo would ensure I’d be leaning over to smell his hair for the next twenty-four hours. The scent always lingered longer than I expected it to and I would find myself stepping just a little closer to him to catch a hint of it. It had been designed to calm fussy toddlers, but it calmed this frazzled father of three—and Daddy of one—even more.

Derek always had been a quiet little, so the little sighs and hums he made were as much as I was expecting from him. At least until we got out of the bedroom and he got his dessert. “Pull the plug, buddy,” I instructed when his hair was finally free of suds.

Derek reached down and pulled the plug without argument, then helped collect the bath toys before stepping out and onto the bath mat. I dried him with a fluffy towel, then used a second towel to dry his hair off. He sat patiently on the bench by the counter as I combed out his wavy locks before we ever left the bathroom.

The rest of our routine fell into place quickly: diaper, PJs, blankie, his preferred stuffy-of-the-night from the pile of stuffed animals in our room. Then we were out to the living room where he situated himself in front of the tree to play with the train. This was Derek’s favorite time of the year, and he’d happily lose hours of time while he played with the toys we only brought out for Christmas.

I knew he’d lost himself in the moment as soon as he’d sat down by the tree instead of going toward the kitchen for the ice cream he knew I’d brought home. Once I was certain he’d gotten comfortable, I headed upstairs to check on the kids to find them all sleeping soundly, then went back downstairs to the kitchen to make us our own desserts.

My bowl had two scoops of the cookie dough ice cream while Derek’s got one, but unlike my bowl I decorated his with an overturned ice cream cone as well as some candy pieces. If it hadn’t been for the frequent yawns, I’d worry the sugar would keep him up all night, but I was certain it wouldn’t be a problem tonight.

“Hey, buddy, I have dessert in here,” I called quietly.

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