Page 62 of Her Holiday Heartthrobs

“Comeon.” Tug. “Comeon.”

I shake my head and laugh. “I hope you three are prepared because this is baseline excitement for him.”

I step out, big boots making me wobbly. Eli steadies me with an arm around my back. It brings me so close to him and his warmth, my face presses against the flannel Jackie wanted to see. He looks like a buff lumberjack and that does crazy things to my pulse.

Biting back my smile, I blink up at him, his warm eyes going molten.

“Comeon.”

“We have to get the sleds out of the back first, Bud.”

He makes an exaggerated aggravated noise before he changes direction, toward the trunk where Liam and Jake pull three different kinds of sleds out.

“What is all this? Couldn’t agree on one?”

Henry laughs and shakes his head. Jake shrugs. And Eli says, “Not a chance.”

They lug the sleds—an innertube, a plastic disk, and an old-fashioned wooden one—up the side of the hill. I follow behind them all, getting the best view of their asses in their jeans. These three are too gorgeous for my sanity.

Paxton sprints ahead, a spider monkey by nature, and he’s hopping on the top where other kids are taking off.

“Wait for one of us,” I warn. And he does. He’s a good boy. Most of the time. “Who do you want to ride with first?”

Paxton points to Henry, who grins. His attachment to Henry is stronger. Natural. He’s drawn to his father by instinct. And Henry doesn’t seem to mind.

I enjoy how he beams with pride as he sets down his plastic disc and gathers Paxton into his lap. They push off with a scream and I love the big smile on Paxton’s face when Henry herds him back to the top.

They easily trade off taking Paxton down the hill on their various sleds. I get to watch it all, I laugh and cheer the whole time.

I take him down twice, but we don’t have the same speed the men create with their weight. I don’t mind. Less snow in my underwear.

It’s late afternoon by the time Paxton starts to lag, so when Eli mentions hot chocolate, that’s all my son can talk about. The marshmallows.The marshmallows.

They bring us to a high-end cafe I’d never step into on my own because, frankly, I don’t make enough money to splurge ona fifteen-dollar hot chocolate. But they do, and you know what? Worth every damn one of their pennies.

When I moan after my first sip, all three men zero in on me, but Paxton breaks the tension.

“I like what Mommy makes me. It’s really good. Lots of marshmallows.”

I laugh, giddy with the two wide, warm hands on either one of my thighs. It’s slow, quiet and peaceful as Paxton entertains us. Falling asleep or not, he’s telling us stories and asking for goofy things all the way back home.

This time in the car, I sit next to him and he curls against my shoulder. The excitement is over, so it’s time for comfort and sleep and that means Mommy. It’s the best feeling in the world to be needed this fundamentally.

The men naturally fall silent as I stroke his back and kiss his hair. Climbing to my apartment, I won’t let them take him from me, but they do carry the bags. Eli opens the door and smiles wide at the way Jackie is waving us inside.

He’s got stew, which is one of the better dishes he can make. And its warmth is welcoming.

Eli points to our tiny tree with the light-up prongs. It sits on a side table, and we’ll stuff presents under it for Christmas Eve. I don’t splurge on the big tree since Dad still decorates his and we wake up there on Christmas morning each year.

It keeps him from destroying it once it's up too. He won’t mean to, but he’s just a wild little boy.

“This is not okay. It won’t do at all.” Eli plants his hands on his hips and Jackie swoons at him.

“Biceps as big as my head all wrapped up in flannel. You make all of my Paul Bunyan fantasies come true.” Jackie clasps his hands over his chest and bats his lashes at Eli. He pulls it off way better than I do.

Not that I’ve ever really tried.

Eli braces his hand on Jackie’s shoulder, still stern in his displeasure, although a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not Christmassy enough in here, and I won’t have it.”

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