Chapter Eight

Jordan

"Me want it sweetier!" Claus complains as he bangs his fork on the table.

I glance at his pancakes, which are already drowning in maple syrup, and shake my head.

"It's 'I', sweetheart, not 'me'," I correct him. "And 'sweeter', not 'sweetier'."

He bangs his fork louder.

I shove a bite of my own pancake inside my mouth.

"You have enough syrup, sweetheart. Any more and your insides will get sticky."

"What insides?" His small, bushy eyebrows bunch up.

"Your tummy."

"My tummy will get sticky?"

"Yes."

"Inside?"

"Yes." I reach for my glass of orange juice. "The inside of your tummy will get sticky and then when you eat other stuff, it'll all stick inside your stomach and you won't be able to eat anything else anymore."

"But you said whatever goes into my tummy will come out in my poop. So that means I'll have sticky poop?"

I almost choke on my juice.

As I wipe my mouth with a table napkin, I narrow my eyes at my little boy. Sometimes I wish he was a girl, if only to avoid topics like things that go on in the bathroom and creepy crawlies and monsters, which seem to be his favorite. Oh, and also so I wouldn't have to clean the toilet as much. But then I think of the tight hugs that come when you least expect them, and the countless, simple ways he makes me laugh out loud, sometimes making me forget that I'm supposed to be getting mad at him. And then there are those smiles he puts on when he's trying to be brave and all the little presents, just random things around the house like the lid of a jar or a handful of pebbles or occasionally a squished beetle, just little things that show he cares.

My lips curve into a smile as my hand reaches out to ruffle his hair on its own.

I love my little boy more than anything else in the world.

"Why are you smiling?" Claus asks.

Ah, the endless questions. I'm not sure how I feel about those yet.

I shrug. "Nothing."

"You said smiling without a reason is creepy. Are you creepy?"

I sigh. What is with a child's memory that it always picks up the things you don't want it to remember but not the important ones that you want it to?

"I'm smiling because you make me happy," I tell him as I ruffle his hair again. "And because I love you."

Claus pushes his plate towards me. "More sywup?"

I chuckle. Trying to wrap me around his finger, huh? Just like someone else I know.

"No." I shake my head. "You have enough syrup."

He doesn't budge.

"Maybe next time I'll put cinnamon to make it sweeter."

Claus frowns. "I hate sun-a-moon."

"Cinnamon," I correct him. "If you don't want me to do that, then eat up."

His frown grows, but he takes back his plate.

I turn my attention back to mine.

I used to wonder why he hated cinnamon when I love the smell of it so much. It reminds me of Christmases. After last night, I finally understand.

He got it from his father.

I glance at him again as he pokes his pancakes with his fork.

I wonder what else he got from his father. He definitely looks like me. Everyone says so. He has my eyes. My nose. His hair is just a tad darker than mine, but still brown. As he gives his pancakes another poke, a drop of maple syrup lands on a few of the strands.

I sigh.

Well, he is quite the mischief maker, just like Lance.

Before I know it, my head is turning towards the window and past the glass to the big house across the street.

Of all the houses he could stay in for the holidays, it had to be the one across the street from me.

It would be fine if he stayed away, but obviously, he has no intention of that. And as last night proved, I don't have the strength to resist him.

The corners of my mouth drop down.

Why? Why does my heart always start pounding at the sight of Lance? Why does my body suddenly feel warm when he's in the same room? Why do his touches make me weak? Why can't I help but want him?

I shake my head in frustration as no answers come to me.

I'm older now. I'm a mother now. I should be wiser. Yet, when I'm with Lance, I feel the same as I did years ago - just a girl wanting to feel special.

I slap my forehead.

I am such a fool. No longer a virgin, but still a fool.

No longer a virgin...

Wait a minute. Maybe that's the problem. When I first met him, I didn't know what it felt like to be with any other man, and so he easily reeled me in. And I still don't know what it feels like to be with any other man. After that one-night stand with Lance got me pregnant, I haven't slept with anyone else. Not that anyone would have wanted to sleep with me while I was swollen all over and out of breath half the time. Then Claus was born and I just didn't have the time for men. That little being that came out of me took over my life completely.

I've grown older. I've changed. I've learned so much in the past few years, like how to fold laundry and feed a baby at the same time. And how to sleep while standing up. But I'm still pretty much a virgin in that department.

I haven't picked up anything to fight him off. That's why he easily wins. Which means...

By the time I break out of my reverie and turn my head, Claus is no longer at the table.

I stand up. "Shit."

I run to the kitchen to find him reaching for the bottle of maple syrup on the counter while standing on the tips of his toes.

I put my hands on my hips. "Claus!"

He reaches the bottle and takes it and apparently squeezes it a little, because suddenly it squirts. A shiny golden puddle lands just below his neck.

Great.

I grab the bottle from him. "Claus..."

He runs off, giggling. "Now I've got sywup! I'm a pancake!"

"Come back here! We need to wipe that off."

"I'm a pancake! I'm a pancake!" He jumps up and down.

"Claus!"

I go after him, but he runs up the stairs. With a sigh, I give chase.

"Claus, we have to get that off you right now. You don't want ants crawling all over you, do you?"

"They will?" His eyes grow wide.

I shouldn't have said that.

"Come here. This is not a game or a joke."

Still, he laughs.

"I'm getting really mad now."

No effect. And I'm running out of patience.

I draw a deep breath. "If you come to me right now, I'll give you a cookie."

I know. I know. I'm not supposed to bribe him. That's letting him win. But right now, I don't have a choice. Or the energy for a prolonged battle.

Finally, the laughter stops. Claus comes to me and I quickly grab his arm. I bring him to the bathroom to take his shirt off and wash the syrup off his skin. After getting him into a fresh shirt, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Where's my cookie?" he asks.

I pout. But I did give him my word, and I have to keep mine if I want him to keep his.

"Come on."

Before we reach the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rings. Too tired to think, I simply open the door.

Lance is standing just outside, wearing a red sweater that hugs his sculpted chest and dark jeans riding low on his hips.

And a grin I'd like to wipe off.

Well, maybe that's not all I'd like to take off him.

Fuck.

I square my shoulders. "If it's coffee you're after, I'm out."

I try to close the door. Like last night, he holds it open.

"Don't worry. I'm not here to ask for anything," he says.

I can barely think with that bicep hanging over me.

"I'm here to apologize for last night."

Keep your cool, Jordan.

"Oh, really?" I cross my arms over my chest.

Lance steps aside so I can see the other man and the boxes behind him.

"And I thought I'd bring over some stuff to help you with your hobby."

My eyes grow wide.

A stand mixer. An ice cream maker. A hand blender. A whip canister. A pasta maker. A dusting wand. A blowtorch. Baking sheets and molds. Measuring cups. Spatulas. Rolling pins.

I can see baskets of baking ingredients as well - chocolate, flour, nuts, gelatin, food coloring.

I place my hand over my chest as my heart starts to go out of control.

"What's... all this?"

"My apology," Lance answers.

He turns to the man. "Bring the stuff inside."

"Your... apology?" I watch as the man enters my house. "You broke a mixing bowl, ruined a batch of cookies and wasted a bottle of cinnamon. You didn't have to get me a bakery."

Lance smiles as he picks up one of the boxes himself. "I thought you'd be happy."

I stand in his way. "Oh, I get it. You're trying to buy me now, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I shake my head. "There's no way I'm accepting these."

"Why not? You clearly need them and like them." He shoves the box into my arms. "Consider them an early Christmas present."

I roll my eyes.

"Did someone say present?" Claus asks behind me.

Great.

I set the box down on the floor. "Claus, go upstairs and - "

"Are you one of Santa's helpers?" Claus asks as he steps forward.

"Well, hello there." Lance bends down. "I wouldn't say helper. I'd say associate."

Claus's eyebrows crease.

"I'm Lance." He offers his hand. "And you must be Claus."

"I am." Claus shakes his hand.

"Then you must be closer to Santa than I am."

Claus shrugs. "Mom says Santa de - "

"Okay, that's enough," I cut in. "Claus, go upstairs."

He looks up at me. "But you promised me a cookie."

"I'll give you two later."

"I have something for you, too." Lance hands Claus a box. "An early Christmas present."

Claus's face lights up at the boxed toy robot. Then he runs off.

I narrow my eyes at Lance. "Trying to buy him, too, now?"

He tucks his hands in his pockets. "Why don't you want him around me?"

"You're a stranger," I answer.

Lance nods. "And I'm guessing Perry doesn't like this particular stranger."

I say nothing.

"He looks like you, though. I bet he's more like you."

I shrug. "Thank you for the presents, but I really can't - "

"It's Christmas," he interrupts. "It's the only time of the year you don't need an excuse to give someone presents or receive them."

I sigh.

"If it bothers you that much, why don't you think of it as an investment on my part?"

"Ah. Finally, he admits it."

"I mean why don't you bake something for me? I'm investing in your skills as a baker. If you bake me something good, then my investment will have paid off."

"Oh."

Lance tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and whispers into it. "I don't need to buy you, Jordan. Because you're already mine."

In spite of myself, I blush.

He steps away. "Good day."

I watch him go with a frown.

Damn, I hate him.

My gaze rests on the box at my feet.

Still, he did bring me what I've been asking Santa for.

~

"Looks like Christmas came early for you," Audrey remarks as she looks around my kitchen.

First, Lance. Now, Audrey Sanders, the 'perfect mom' who lives down the street. I seem to be getting visits from the people I least want to see today.

"Although if you ask me, the better present is the man across the street." She glances out the window. "Have you met him?"

"He dropped by once," I lie. "Just to ask some questions about the town."

"Well, next time he does, tell him to come to me. I am on the town council, after all."

I nod. "Of course."

Audrey may be married, but she's not above flirting, especially since her husband is away most of the time.

"I hear he's really good-looking."

I shrug. "Nothing too out of the ordinary."

Which is a lie, of course.

"Maybe you should try to invite him for dinner," Audrey suggests with a nudge of her shoulder. "You know, cozy up with him for the holidays. It is about to get even colder, after all."

"I have enough blankets, thank you."

She touches her chin. "Ah, but I guess it wouldn't work."

It wouldn't?

"Your son is quite... unruly, after all. No offense meant."

I'm not sure about that.

"A man would probably find him too much to handle, and then he'd think you're too much to handle. Except the boy's father, of course."

I cough.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes." I place a hand on my chest. "I'm fine."

"You really should keep the house warm at this time of year." Audrey pats my shoulder. "Anyway, as I was saying, I need fifty cupcakes for the town council on Friday. It's our last meeting for the year and we want to end it on a sweet note."

"And I believe I mentioned I don't accept orders," I tell her.

She glances around. "Then why all the equipment?"

"I..."

"Fifty cupcakes," Audrey repeats. "It's really not that much. Dress them up in holiday style - red and green and Christmas trees and snowflakes and the like. Oh, and I want some to have peppermint."

Her heels clatter on the floor as she walks out of the kitchen. Suddenly, she stops.

"And maybe you can bake a small cake as well. Just a small one so we can have a centerpiece."

"Audrey..."

"Don't worry." She continues walking towards the front door. "I'll pay you for everything."

"That's not the issue here."

"Then what is?" Audrey turns around. "You don't have anything better to do, do you?"

When I don't answer immediately, she grins.

"I thought so."

She walks out. I close the door and slump on the couch.

Another person who can't take no for an answer. Just great.

I stare at the ceiling.

I don't mind baking. Actually, I'd love to, especially with my new equipment. But...

"Mommy, look at my new robot," Claus interrupts my thoughts.

He walks over to me with his new toy and I smile.

"That looks nice."

I watch as he sits on the rug and plays with it.

Give it two days and then it will start falling apart, I'm sure.

I sigh. I may not have something better to do, but I have something to do, and that's keep an eye on Claus. Who's going to watch him and keep him out of my way while I bake?

"Will I see Lance again?" Claus asks suddenly.

Just like that, an idea forms in my head.

Maybe Lance can watch Claus. He doesn't have anything better to do. That will allow me to bake, and it might even help keep him away from me. After all, Audrey said that my son is too much to handle. Lance might be his father, but he has no experience with children, and I bet no patience. He'll give up on Claus and then he'll give up on me.

And I can spend the rest of my holidays in peace.

"Mom, you're not being creepy again, are you?" Claus asks as he glances at me.

Instead of answering, I give him a hug. "Oh no. This time, I'm smiling because it's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas."