Page 45 of Her Holiday Heartthrobs

“No. I just wanted to check on her. I know how late football practice can go this time of year.” Henry slips his jacket on, buttoning it closed. It accentuates the width of his shoulders and chest, and the narrowness of his waist. I hadn’t even gotten to see any of it this time. He spares me a few seconds and a smile. “Happy to give you a break and see that everything’s okay.”

I offer him a shaky smile back. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. Paxton likes you.”

Why did I have to offer him that tidbit? He didn’t even know Paxton existed until tonight. But it was obvious from the moment he saw his dad that they connected. Fear kept me on edge all night, waiting for Henry to ask me about Paxton’s father.

You’d think four years would be long enough to have that conversation figured out in my head, but I don’t even remotely know what to say about it. Not to him anyway.

“He’s a good kid.” His hand slips over my shoulder, just a light touch of goodbye.

It’s enough for me, even though it doesn’t look like it’s enough for him. Too many layers of emotions muddle together when I meet his gaze.

Henry doesn’t linger, giving my dad a hug, promising to see him Sunday for their football game, and then he’s pulling the door closed behind him.

I release a slow breath and tiptoe to peek into the sack and see our favorites: Caramel Creams, Berger Cookies, and Smith’s Island Cake. “If I don’t hide half of this, we’re all going to be sick.”

Dad laughs and pulls out the Caramel Creams, opening the bag to offer me one. I take it. Mmm, these are my favorites. As a child, I used to eat the caramel around all the creams and save the cream for last. The way the sugar melted on my tongue was the best thing in the world.

“You always make that face when I get you those. It’s a wonder you don’t get sick of them with how often I bring them to you.” Dad pops one in his mouth, and we share a smile.

“Nah. Couldn’t ever get sick of them.”

“Bub sleeping already?” He leans against the counter, his back’s been acting up from an old football injury. Too involved coaching his team, and he tweaks it. Too young to act like an old man.

“Yeah.” I nudge him toward the couch, so he can relax. “He’s been sleeping on and off all day. Most of the visit to emergency care even. The poor thing’s got no energy.”

We sit together, each taking another Caramel Cream.

“That’s not like him. He must be really sick.”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah. He keeps us on our toes, doesn’t he? But I get worried when he’s like this.”

“I did too, when you were younger. Shoot, I still do. Anytime something doesn’t go right for you.” He brushes my hair back and smiles at me, that glittering love in his eyes. “So, how’s work going? Must be a star employee with the boss showing up to check on you.”

“Our team’s only been together two days. I missed one of them. He must have assumed it was dire.” Sugar dissolves across my tongue, and I close my eyes. Such a pure piece of happiness.

“If you went to the urgent care, it must have been.”

“His fever got up to 103. I didn’t want to let it get any higher.”

His big hand wraps around mine and holds it. “Good instincts. You’ve always been such a good mom. Just as caring as your mom was. Always ready to wrap you up and rock you against her at the littlest whimper or sign of tears.”

She’s become a memory of softness and love. Mom rocked me so many times in my childhood. Made me spoiled and soft. Something I couldn’t be after she was gone.

I clear my throat. “But work is good. Our team is brilliant and I’ve barely had to field any questions or put out any fires yet. I have some really high hopes for what we’re putting together.”

Pride beams out of him. “I knew you’d be perfect for that job when they told me about it.”

I laugh. “You think I’ll be perfect for everything.”

“You are.”

“I am not. But I appreciate it anyway.”

“You’re getting home on time? Keeping the balance?” Dad leans his head back. My couch, lovingly deemedThe Couch of Deathbecause it pulls everyone into its sleepy grasp, is doing its magic on him. He closes his eyes.

“Yes and no. I had an event yesterday that kept me out late. I almost didn’t make it back on time to catch Paxton’s fever.”

“But then you stayed home with him.”

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