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Benton returned to the couch beside me, his hand absentmindedly going to my thigh as he watched his daughter open presents from her uncle.
Bleu noticed too and gave a smirk.
Claire made a brand-new mess on the floor, full of boxes and wrapping paper, her gifts the only things that survived the massacre. She squeezed the soft teddy bear to her chest. “Thank you, Uncle Bleu.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” With his mug in his hands, he watched Claire play with her things, just the way her father had watched over her earlier that morning. “Miss school?”
She gave a dramatic shake of her head.
He chuckled. “I didn’t care for school either.”
“I just love Christmas,” Claire said. “I don’t want it to end…”
“Well, there’s always next year.”
She lifted her head, as if a thought popped into her mind. “We made cookies. You want one?”
“Um, I’m not a big fan of sweets.” He rubbed his stomach as he gave a shake of his head.
“Come on, Uncle Bleu.” She ran into the kitchen to get more from the cookie jar. “We made them ourselves.” She returned with a handful, some of Benton’s dark cookies and the rest the bright, cheerful ones she and I’d made together.
He cracked under peer pressure and ate one. “Wow, you’re right…they’re good.”
She waved her finger at him. “Told you.” She dropped back onto the floor to her toys again.
I looked at Benton’s brother. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“No thanks.” He shook his head. “Got plans.”
“What kind of plans?” Benton asked.
He gave a shrug. “A date.”
“On Christmas?” Benton asked.
Bleu gave him a staredown that told him not to ask questions.
Benton gave a slow nod, like he got the message. “Have fun with that.”
“Oh, I will.” Bleu smirked then took a drink of his cocoa. “No work for you?”
“There’s always work, but I’m not going.” Benton watched his daughter, his only focus.
“Bartholomew was cool with that?” he asked.
“I don’t care what he’s cool with,” Benton said. “I do what I want—when I want.”
Claire knocked out pretty early, probably because of all the excitement of the day. She put on the new pajamas I’d given her, so I guess she did like them after all. Once she was tucked in for the night and the house was cleaned up, we went to bed.
I could feel his mood like an oven. It turned on and slowly filled the room with heat, getting warmer and warmer. He was a man of few words but very palpable energy. He sat on the edge of the bed in just his sweatpants, his bare feet on the rug, his powerful physique hard and straight. His arms rested on his knees, and his hands came together between his thighs.
My fingers slid across one shoulder, the enormous hunk of muscle, and then to the back of his neck. My fingers lightly grazed through his short hair, and that jolt of electricity was instant, shocking me down to my toes.
He kept his head down, lost in thought, his mood bitter.
I broke his hands apart and lowered myself to my knees between his, meeting his stare now that I was where his eyes had been a moment before. My hands gripped his thighs and slowly moved up, gliding over the fabric of his sweatpants, toward the hard lines of his stomach.
His eyes remained on mine and didn’t react to my touch.
“Are you mad at me about the gift?”
He didn’t give any kind of reaction, but his answer was still apparent.
“I should have asked you first, but…I didn’t want to bring it up.”
“You did the right thing. I should have thought of it myself.”
“You’ve got a lot going on right now.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m a father first.”
“Well, don’t forget you have me too. You don’t have to be responsible for everything.”
His eyes stared into mine, deep and blue, beautiful like the rest of him. The look used to be unnerving, but now, it was my happy place, a place I could get lost in for hours. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to us—both of us. I’m just sorry for the way it came about.” He dropped his gaze, probably thinking about the same thing I was thinking.
“It was worth it.”
His eyes flicked back up to mine.
“I would do it all over again…”
The stare continued, deep and hard, like he saw me in a whole new light. “I’ll kill him. I don’t know when…but I will. I promise you.”
“What about the camp?”
“I’ll burn it to the ground—turn it to ash.”
I nodded.
“His death is for Claire. But everything else…that’s for you.”
The holiday break passed quickly. Claire and I spent a lot of time together, and she spent a lot of time with her father too. We made a trip to the stables to visit their horses in the rain, took down the Christmas tree after the new year, and then the house was back to its usual self. Now, it was just winter…gray skies and slick sidewalks.
