“Well, that won’t do.” I replace it with a candy cane. “This is better. Stiff and reliable. Skinny girth that’ll fit just about anywhere. Long enough to gag on.”
He coughs while adjusting in his seat. “You should put that down.”
“My throat? Yes, that’s the idea.”
I open my mouth wide, giving him an unobstructed view as I slide the candy cane in as far as it can go. With the hooked part wedged at my tonsils, I mewl just to prove I’m capable of swallowing much more. I remove the temptation slowly, making sure to hollow my cheeks for maximum impact.
“Francesca,” he growls.
“Oooooh, full first name. Aren’t you enjoying the show?”
“I don’t tolerate teasing.”
That gets stored in a secret spot for a later date. For now, I give him a coy grin and lick the tip of the candy cane. “Turns out my love language is receiving gifts. I’ve been feeling very grateful since you bought Greta and started making me coffee every morning.”
He scowls at the mention of his recent acts. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“That horse cost you forty-thousand dollars. The least I can do is provide visual stimulation. Do with it what you wish.” I bounce my shoulder, lowering the neckline of my green sweater.
Byron’s gulp is audible. “You’re gonna have to choke on a lot of candy canes.”
“Maybe you’ll give me a more substantial shaft to suck on and settle the debt faster.”
The fire in his gaze snuffs out instantly. “Don’t sell yourself short, menace. Not to me.”
I hiss out my next breath. In my experience, men don’t refuse an offer like mine. But I’m quickly realizing Byron isn’t like the guys I’d been instructed to keep company back in my old life.
He’s opened his home to me. I’ve had my first tastes of holiday cheer thanks to him and Ronnie. We’re sitting at the table surrounded by supplies to make gingerbread houses on Christmas Day. And here I am, trying to seduce him.
An ugly sensation crawls through my gut. Gosh, I’m so far out of my element I can’t see straight. Heat stings my vision and I look away, focusing on the tree we decorated together. The shatter of a fragile ornament beats against my eardrums. They brushed off my mistake like cookie crumbs, but guilt still plagues me.
I wasn’t raised to be domestic. I’m a stray alley cat rescued from the streets, suddenly treated with nothing but kindness and compassion. The adjustment is steep.
Another sharp jab punches my stomach. I almost forgot to buy Ronnie a gift. Christmas customs and activities are foreign to me. At the last minute, I recognized the absence of wrapped boxes from me under the tree. The mini motorized bike is the only thing I’ve spent my own money on since Byron gave me his card.
I was feeling really satisfied with my choice until she opened it. She immediately wanted to go for a ride, as she should. The only problem with that is Minnesota winter and the massive heap of snow we just got this week. Byron saved the day like a real hero. He cleared out the oversized garage and let his little girl go wild.
I’m woman enough to admit I shed a few tears. But then it was time to reveal what she got for me. My hands wrap around the ceramic mug that’s warm from my morning coffee. The clay is lopsided, lumpy, and a bit leaky. In other words, it’s pottery perfection. When I first saw it nestled in black tissue paper, the dam burst and I became a blubbering mess.
Ronnie had cuddled up against my shaking form.“I made it for you, Frannie. Do you like it?”
Never have I felt so inadequate. That child deserves much more than a small scooter. I sniffle while returning from that special moment. It’s strong enough to chase away the shadows of my past. A lone droplet dares to escape my eye and I swipe at it absently. My unbalanced emotions have been misfiring, which blurs the gingerbread structure in front of me. I clutch onto the mug tighter as if that will stabilize me.
Byron shakes his head. “If you don’t quit that, Ronnie is gonna fill your room with handmade crafts.”
“Really?” There’s no downplaying the hope in my voice.
His hum is contemplative. “You really care about her.”
I roll my watery eyes. “Duh, stud. She’s irresistible.”
“Fair point.”
As a final touch, my lack of construction skills attempts to attach a lemon drop as a doorknob. “I’m beginning to realize there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
He nods slowly. “Good. That’s the way it should be.”
“Wowwwww,” Ronnie breathes from right beside me. “Your gingerbread house is amazing!”