LuLLaY

by Freya Barker

  I have no doubt, but that grin disappears fast when he inspects my sugar cookies a couple of hours later.

  “Jesus have mercy. Have you got your holidays scrambled in that large head of yours? This ain’t Halloween.”

  Okay, so I still claim I do an awesome potato rosette, but my sugar cookie snowflakes are a little challenged.

  They look more like spiderwebs.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tana

  “Was your Dad awake?”

  I’ve just come downstairs from putting Flynn down for the night when Matt walks in. I can’t help the bark of laughter when I spot the net still covering his hair. Automatically his hand comes up, encounters the thin elastic, and rips the thing off his head, leaving his hair sticking out every which way.

  “Pete’s an asshole,” he mutters, stomping into the kitchen and tossing it in the garbage. “I knew something was up when he waved goodbye with that damn smirk on his face.”

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, changing the topic.

  “Starving. A person can only eat so many sugar cookies.” A grumbling Matt is kind of cute. I’ve not seen him disgruntled like this before and it’s almost endearing.

  “How did it go with the sugar cookies?”

  He looks at me with one eyebrow raised. “I decorated every last one of them. Then I did dishes—again. And I burned my hand taking shit out of the oven—twice.” He shows me his injuries and I make appropriately soothing sounds.

  “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you something to eat and grab some ointment to put on those burns.” I pile a plate high with the spaghetti and meatballs I whipped up when we got back from the hospital. “It’s Flynn’s favorite,” I announce randomly as I set the steaming plate in front of him.

  “Mine too,” he says, looking up at me with a grin before he stabs a ball on his fork and pops the whole thing in his mouth. “Delicious.”

  “I’m just gonna grab that stuff from the bathroom.”

  I quickly scoot up the stairs, mostly to get away from the satisfied moaning sounds Matt is making as he eats. It reminds me too much of the other kinds of sounds I clearly remember him making.

  By the time I get downstairs, half his plate is empty. “Give me your hand.” I sit down beside him and reach out, checking the blisters on the back of it.

  “So how is your dad?”

  “A grumpy old bear, which means he’s feeling better. Mom is sleeping on a cot again tonight. She doesn’t want to leave him, she’s afraid he’ll piss off the nursing staff.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Matt rumbles.

  I look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “That he’s better or that Mom won’t be coming home?”

  “Both?”

  Shoving his chair back from the table, he grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap, banding his arms around me. I’m pretty sure I was still in pigtails, with a missing tooth or two, the last time I sat on anyone’s lap. I feel a little awkward with his eyes at boob level, and mine scanning the top of his head. No bald spots, but plenty of gray. Or is that....

  “I think you need a shower,” I point out, picking a bit of dried icing from his hair.

  “So do you,” he counters, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  It takes us two minutes—tops—to get upstairs, naked, and in the shower. His kiss is hungry—with almost voracious intensity—as the water pelts our bodies. Urgent, and needy, I hook a leg around his and grind myself against hard muscle. My fingers dig into the cheeks of his ass, pulling him closer.

  “Slow down,” he mumbles, releasing my lips. His hand tangles in the wet strands of hair down my back and tugs lightly, forcing me to look up. “I want to savor this.” Captivated by his warm gaze, I nod in response, releasing my death grip on his backside and sliding my leg back down.

  With gentle hands, he takes his time washing my hair, massaging my scalp, and raking his fingers through the long strands as he rinses it. I stand there, letting him run soapy palms over my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

  I’m not a passive person, and it speaks volumes that I quietly let him tend to me. The only thing moving are my eyes, following his movements. Perhaps I should be concerned I am falling this hard in such a short time, but no man has ever cared for me like this. Not even close.

  I watch as he quickly washes his own hair and body, but when his hand lazily strokes his cock a few times; I drop to my knees and without hesitation take him in my hand and mouth. His groan, when my tongue finds the sensitive spot right under the tip, only spurs me on and I take him deep. I watch from under my lashes as he braces himself against the wall. Curving his other hand around my head, he guides me up and down his shaft, his eyes burning into mine.

  It doesn’t take long before I feel the muscles ripple in his thighs and he abruptly pulls himself free. “I need inside you,” he mumbles. He pulls me to my feet and swings me around so my back is plastered to his front. With an arm around my waist—anchoring me—he runs the other hand down the back of my leg, lifting it so my knee is hooked over his forearm, spreading me wide. “On your toes.” His whisper is urgent against the shell of my ear.

  The next moment he’s inside me, hard and deep, the angle reaching parts of me that have my eyes roll back. His hand slides up from my belly to curve around my breast, fingers plucking at my nipple. “Honey,” I moan, dropping my head back on his shoulder, as his hips slap against my ass, setting a punishing rhythm.

  I’m lost to sensation. His body tightly curved around me, rubbing my back with the rasp of his chest hair. With the rough pads of his fingertips, he sends pulses from my painfully hard peaks straight down to where his cock is pounding my pussy. I gasp for air, suspended in time.

  His breath becomes ragged as I feel his body flex behind me. “Touch yourself,” he growls, and I immediately slip a hand down, fingers moving furiously over my clit.

  The moment his teeth sink into my shoulder I fall over the edge: muscles contracting with the force of my release, as his guttural groan and jerking body signals his.

  “Beautiful,” he mutters, never letting go when he turns and takes my full weight as he leans his back against the wall.

  Still taking care of me.

  Matt

  “Don’t go,” I mumble when I feel her getting out of bed.

  She’d wordlessly followed me into the spare bedroom after our shower last night, sliding naked under the sheets with me. Exhausted, it didn’t take me long to drift off with her soft body pressed against mine.

  “I have to,” she says softly, leaning down to press a sweet kiss on my mouth. I blink open my eyes and find her smiling at me. “Thank you for taking care of me, and I don’t mean just taking over at the bakery yesterday. You were looking out for me, even when I was just a stranger at a gas station.” Her hand trails along my scruffy jaw before tracing my lips with her finger. “You keep surprising me at every turn and I fall a little harder each time.”

  “Montana,” I whisper against her fingers, but she shakes her head sharply.

  “There are so many uncertainties: my father’s health, the future of the bakery, my own business—and last, but definitely not least, there’s you. I’m not quite sure how or where to fit everything, but you make me want to try.”

  Tagging a hand behind her neck, I pull her down, roll her under me, and kiss her hard.

  Fuck, this is crazy.

  One by one I’ve seen my friends back home fall hard—I was happy for every one of them when they found love—I just never believed it was in the books for me.

  I was wrong.

  “We’ll make it work,” I promise her, lifting my head to look her in the eye. “I can’t tell you where this road is taking us, but I can assure you I don’t want to get off.”

  Her eyes crinkle as she smiles up in my face. “Are we a little crazy?”

  “Certifiable.” I grin back and give her soft brush of my lips, before rolling off her. “Now get ready for work. Pete will be happy to see y
ou instead of my mug.”

  Soft laughter trails after her as I follow her naked ass padding into the bathroom. The next second, she pokes her head back out. “I almost forgot. Mom needs a change of clothes. If I pack a bag, do you think you could drop it off at the hospital sometime this morning? I’d do it, but we’re doing pies today.”

  “Sure. We’ll be out and about anyway.”

  “Oh? What are you up to?”

  “This and that,” I evade with a smirk.

  -

  “More.”

  I raise my eyebrow at Flynn, who just inhaled her second pancake almost as fast as she did her first.

  “Let’s give it a minute, okay? I don’t think that second one made it quite down to your tummy yet.” I ignore the resulting pout on her lips. She’s quite proficient at those, but luckily she’s still easy to distract. “So are you gonna help me today?”

  “Make chwismiss,” she says with a big smile.

  “You bet. We have a few things to pick up in town, and I need you to help me wrap presents.”

  “Wanna wap pwesents.”

  “Yes, after we run a few errands. We’ll come back here, wrap some presents, and get ready to surprise Mommy.”

  “Pwesents for Mommy?”

  “Yes, but you can’t tell her, because it’s a surprise.”

  “Supwise.”

  “Exactly.” Fucking adorable how she repeats every second word back. I have no idea if she understands the concept of surprise, so I’ll have to keep a close check on her.

  Satisfied I have her sufficiently distracted, I turn to get myself another coffee and pour some batter in the pan for my own breakfast, when I hear her behind me.

  “More.”

  -

  “Did you know your granddaughter has a hollow leg or two?”

  Mrs. Romer chuckles as I hand her Flynn, holding onto the bag Tana asked me to take to bring over. “Let me guess, you made pancakes for breakfast?”

  “I did, actually. She ate three to my four. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Fwee,” Flynn confirms for her grandmother, holding up four fingers. Mrs. Romer bounces the toddler on her hip, before turning back to me.

  “I know. She eats like a bird the rest of the time, but when it comes to anything sweet, she gorges herself.”

  “Are you gonna let me see my granddaughter, or do I have to come out there?”

  The gritty voice coming from inside the room must be Tana’s dad.

  “Hold your horses,” Mrs. Romer mutters under her breath, as she rolls her eyes at me before walking into the room. I tentatively follow behind.

  “Grampa!” Flynn almost launches herself onto the bed, but Tana’s mother manages to hold her back, whispering quietly in her ear before releasing her carefully into her husband’s waiting arms. The little girl snuggles into his hold, tucking her tow-colored head under his chin, but all the while his dark glare pierces me to the floor just inside the door.

  “Maxim.” Mrs. Romer’s sharp hiss draws his attention. “This is Matt, Tana’s friend. He—”

  “I know who he is, woman.” He cuts her off before his eyes slide back to me. “Well? Are you gonna stand there shuffling your feet or are you going to come in?”

  I’d rather sit my bare ass down in a nest of fire ants than go in, but my feet are moving already. “Mr. Romer,” I say, holding out my hand. The scrutiny of the older man feels way too familiar. Much like my father looks at me: with near disdain. It suddenly seems important Tana’s dad doesn’t weigh and find me lacking, like my own father does.

  I hold my ground and finally he grasps my hand, his hold much firmer than I would’ve expected from a man who just had a heart attack.

  “Sit,” he bites off before turning to his wife. “You can go have a shower now. Matt can keep me company.”

  “Man!” Flynn’s head bobs up, almost hitting her grandfather on the chin.

  “Yes, sweetheart.”

  “We wap pwesents now?”

  “Not yet. We first have to go shopping,” I remind her, as she worms from her grandfather’s hold to the edge of his bed, where I catch her and prop her in the curve of my arm. Her little hands clap against my cheeks and she butts her nose against mine.

  “Soon?”

  “Yes, soon.” At my promise, she settles on my lap, and I notice Tana’s father watching us.

  “She likes you,” he says, perhaps a little surprised.

  “And I like her.”

  “Hmmm.” A pregnant pause follows and I have to work not to look away from his intense stare. “And my daughter—you like her too?” he finally asks.

  “I do. She makes it easy.”

  He hums again and his eyes slide down to his granddaughter, who is playing with my watch. “I’m not sure how long I have left,” he says suddenly, barking out a hoarse laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? One moment you put things off, pretending time hasn’t passed at all, and the next you stare death in the face, wondering if there’s even enough time left for you to settle your affairs.”

  It’s my turn to hum, but I do it understanding what he means. Life is short, so don’t put off to tomorrow, what you can do today.

  “I don’t know you from Adam, and I don’t know if you’ll stick around,” he continues, raising his hand to stave off any assurances I might offer, but his eyes stay glued to a surprisingly quiet Flynn. “But I’m asking you anyway.” Finally his gaze meets mine, and instead of the strong judgment I saw before, there is only a silent plea left in his eyes. “I need to know, whatever happens, you’ll look after her—after them.”

  I don’t need time to think about an answer, but to show him I take his question seriously, I give it a moment before speaking.

  “I absolutely will, and I’m pretty sure you’ll be around so I can prove it to you. But just so you know, your daughter is very good at looking after herself.”

  For the first time since I walked in, I see his mouth twitch as he gives me his seal of approval.

  “Good answer.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Matt

  “Ohmigawd! What’s this?”

  Shit. I never noticed her car drive up.

  I swing around from the potato leek soup I was trying to have ready before rounding up Flynn and putting her to bed. As it is, Flynn is still wide awake, dancing around the living room to the music of some Christmas movie I found on TV. She’s a mess: garland draped around her neck and a jaunty red bow she snagged off a present—stuck on her head—hanging lopsided by her ear. I’d counted on having time to clean up a little before Tana walked in.

  I’d noticed the lack of Christmas decorations yesterday morning. Not something I was used to myself growing up, but I’d expected a family like Tana’s to have at least some. A sweet little thing like Flynn certainly deserved them.

  I had planned to ask Mrs. Romer about it earlier, but the encounter with her husband made me forget all about it. That’s why it took a little longer to get everything I thought we’d need. Including the tree and a stand.

  That proved to be a challenge, trying to get a tree fitted into the base, with a three-year-old under your feet. Never mind bringing it inside. That’s when I had my first doubts, while I was trying to figure out where to put the damn thing. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but moving someone else’s shit around to fit a tree I hauled into their house uninvited, made me reconsider my grand plan. They may not even want one. What if they’re Jewish? Tana never mentioned anything and I couldn’t see any visual evidence, but I really have no way of knowing for sure.

  My enthusiasm turned to concern and I abandoned the tree, for the moment, and focused instead on getting the couple of presents I picked up wrapped. While I was doing that, Flynn got into the bags of decorations I’d picked up at Walmart, and had started on the tree. Still sitting in the middle of the room, three branches at the bottom were now heavy with about twenty-five balls, copious strands of garland, and the plastic Walmart bags they came in.
>
  I didn’t have the heart to change anything and with dinnertime come and gone, I focused on that instead. Found a movie on TV and plopped Flynn on the couch.

  Apparently that didn’t keep either, as I watch the silver garland trail behind her as she dances her way over to her mother, who still stands frozen in the doorway.

  Oh, big shit.

  Tana

  Christmas threw up in our house.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch the shocked expression on Matt’s face, but I can’t tear my eyes from the beautiful Christmas tree in the middle of the living room.

  A real tree.

  Mom always preferred the ratty old fake one that gets stored in the basement every year, with the decorations still on it. Traditionally she has Dad haul it upstairs on Christmas Eve, while she rushes around to decorate the rest of the house.

  Dad and I tried for years to get her to concede to a fresh-cut tree, but while she agreed nothing compares to the scent of fresh pine, she would remind us in no uncertain terms that it would be her vacuuming fallen needles for months after.

  But Matt got us a real tree.

  “Mommy, we gots chwismiss!”

  “I see that, Peanut.” I look down at my daughter, who has her arms around my knees, staring up at me with a giant smile. I pluck the haphazard bow from her ear and stick it on top of her head, where I’m sure it started out. “You look beautiful.”

  Finally I raise my eyes and almost chuckle when I see the apprehensive look on Matt’s face.

  “So yeah, about that,” he says, tilting his head to the tree. “It seemed like a—”

  “I come home after a sixteen-hour day, spent sweating in a hot bakery I had to share with a grumpy old man and his nervous sidekick. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m gross and sticky—and this is what I find when I walk in the door?” I swing Flynn up in my arms and have to bite my lip not to laugh at his crestfallen expression.

  “I...” he starts, but I’ve teased enough.

  “It’s perfect,” I whisper, walking up to him, my eyes misting over as I slide my free arm around his waist.