Page 8 of All in December
The kids don’t even notice the awkward tension because they’re too busy arranging pillows… or something. I’m really not sure what they’re doing since I’ve managed to block them and their entire conversation out of my mind to spiral over my own struggles. I’ve accepted I’m not winning any Dad of the Year awards based on my behavior right now.
Unsure of what else to do, I pick our bag up to move it before sitting down on the edge of the bed. I try to shift my thoughts to literally anything else when Sam jumps in front of me.
“Dad,” he says, eyes wide. “What about the pool? Can we go?”
Benji lights up immediately. “Yeah! It’s heated!”
Nash groans quietly beside me. “I was hoping they’d forget.”
Sam turns to me with a pleading look. “Did you bring my swimsuit? Please tell me you did.”
“No, bud. I didn’t pack anything specifically for a night in the mountains. I thought we’d be home tonight,” I say, and Sam visibly deflates, throwing his little body down on the bed with a dramatic sigh like I’ve just ruined his life. I hate disappointing him, but he can always go in his shorts. Before I can suggest it, though, Nash speaks.
“Hang on,” he says, standing up and grabbing his bag. “Benji’s extra stuff is in here. I always throw in extra of just about everything in case he forgot to pack something.”
Sam perks up in an instant at Nash’s suggestion. “Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” Nash says, already rummaging through a neatly rolled-up bundle of clothes while I’m silently praying that there’s an extra set in there. Though I doubt Nash would’ve mentioned it if he wasn’t sure. “Benji might be a little taller than you, but these should work for the pool.”
Nash tosses him a folded bundle, which looks like swim trunks and a T-shirt. “Try that. If it fits, we’re good.”
Sam runs quickly to the bathroom to try it on, and I’m feeling inexplicably grateful for Nash at this moment. “You packed an extra swimsuit?”
“Between him and his sister, I’ve realized you can never be too prepared,” he says easily.
He didn’t pack that suit for Sam specifically, and yet, I can’t help feeling this quiet wave of relief anyway because it’s one less thing I have to worry about.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
Nash shrugs and gives me a look that says it’s no big deal, but to Sam, it’s everything. I stand, taking a few steps toward the bathroom door and knock. “Hey, Sam, don’t forget to rinse off first, okay? You’ve been in ski gear all day.”
His groan comes through the door, but he doesn’t argue as I hear the shower turn on.
“You too, Benji,” Nash says to his son who’s riffling through the clean clothes on the bed.
“Fine,” he huffs, and I laugh at how much he seems to resist showering too, just like Sam.
Nash stands and stretches, then turns to me. “Want to rinse off before we head down?”
“Yeah, I’d love to, as long as we can hold them off from running down there without us.”
“All we can do is try,” he says with a wink, and I damn near melt. There’s something about the ease between us that makes it feel like we’ve known each other for years.
Sam and Benji each take all of two minutes in the shower, barely rinsing off before they’re back out in the room, hair damp and towels clutched in their hands, clearly impatient. Nash motions for me to go next, so I grab my bag and head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
The steam’s already fogged the mirror, and the air smells faintly of citrus. I turn on the water, peel off my clothes, and step under the spray. It’s hot enough to sting at first, but after a day of skiing in the cold, it feels incredible.
I pump the hotel’s citrus-scented shampoo from one of the full-sized bottles mounted to the shower wall, working it through my hair slowly before rinsing it out. Then I grab the body wash and soap up quickly, knowing there are two boys out there bouncing off the walls waiting for the pool.
By the time my hand drags absently over my half-hard dick, I have to shut my eyes for a second and breathe. Now is not the time. Definitely not the time. But the thought of Nash coming in here next, stripping down and stepping under this same spray, does nothing to help my self-control.
I do my best to push the thought away and finish up as quickly as I can, shutting the water off so I’m forced to get out. I towel off, pull on the clean clothes I packed, and run a hand through my damp hair. I feel a hundred times better already.
When I step back out into the room, I glance over Sam and Benji to look right at Nash, and it feels like the air isknocked from my lungs. How can one person be so objectively attractive? It isn’t fair. Shouldn’t even be allowed.
He smiles at me, and before my brain catches up, my mouth betrays me.
“I’m all yours,” I blurt.
