Page 5 of Mistletoe Dreams
He didn't raise his voice, but he used the tone that he would've used had he been on duty and needed someone he’d stopped for speeding to get out of their car. He wasn't asking. He was telling.
For a heartbeat and a half, he was afraid Mason wasn't going to listen. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was going to do if Mason decided to defy him. At fifteen, Mason was almost as tall as he was, although Ben was heavier and definitely stronger still. Still, he didn't want to have to use brute force in order to get his son to listen. But he might have to use some tough love, and he wasn't sure exactly what all that entailed to get his son back on the straight and narrow.
Or at least headed in the direction of the straight and narrow, because from the road that Mason was on right now, the straight and narrow wasn't even visible.
After giving him a scowl, Mason yanked his bowl, spilling more milk and cereal, and stomped into the kitchen before slapping himself down on the chair and practically throwing his bowl on the table. Milk and cereal slopped out everywhere.
For the time being, Ben ignored the mess his son had made in three different spots so far in the last five minutes.
"This is how you pour cereal without spilling it," Ben said calmly, as he took the same cereal that his son had left open on the counter and poured it into his own bowl. "And if you don't fill it up too full, then it doesn't spill out."
"Like I care," Mason muttered.
"You should care, because now you have a mess to clean up in three different spots in my house, and if you had been more careful in how you handled your bowl and how you filled it up in the first place, you wouldn't have to waste your time on that, and you could get right to the other chores on your list."
"Chores? I have chores?" Mason asked, acting like the idea waspreposterous. He huffed out a breath. "I should've known you just wanted a slave."
All right, Ben had to admit that he had to bite back a grin. A slave?
"If I were going to get a slave, they would be a lot more docile, and they wouldn't go around making messes that then I had to take the energy to try to then get them to clean up."
"Then why don't you just clean them up yourself? That would save you some time and energy, old man."
"My theoretical slave would also be slightly more respectful. They would not draw attention to my advanced years, but instead would regard my wisdom with awe and respect."
For the first time that morning, the scowl left Mason's face as he seemed to be trying to figure out what exactly Ben was saying. He could almost see the wheels turning in his son's head, trying to figure out how to turn that so it was somehow insulting him so that he could get offended over it and have some kind of flippant, arrogant, disrespectful comment.
It seemed to be too much for his adolescent brain, because he looked back down at his cereal bowl and stuffed another spoonful into his mouth.
"I guess that settles that," Ben said, not because he had to, but because the silence felt oppressive. "I did make a list for you, and I do want you to work while you're here. A house needs regular maintenance, and the people who live in it share the burden."
"I knew it. A slave. That's why I'm here. Shall I call you master?" Mason shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
Ben was kind of surprised at his lack of animosity towards his son. He definitely needed a good takedown, and he needed to have respect for his father, but this did not seem to be the time. Not when Ben was trying to develop a relationship with him. And on top of all of that, Ben knew that Mason knew that what he was doing was wrong.
It was true that Ben had worked while Mason was growing up,but Mason had been a well-behaved and well-mannered young man until the divorce. Most likely his attitude was due to that and also to the fact that he had fallen in with the wrong group of people.
Hopefully this move to Mistletoe Meadows would change all of that.
Plus, Ben had enjoyed the time that he and his son had spent together, and he had a lot of good memories of the things that they had done. Sure, the divorce had marred some of those, and the fight that he and Peyton had had over custody, with Peyton eventually winning, had marred them as well.
Ben didn't know how to solve the divorce crisis. He didn't know how to make his wife want to keep her vows and to stay with the man that she'd married. Had he been such a terrible husband? Had she really needed to leave? Had she really needed to break up their family?
He didn't understand it. Didn't understand why Peyton's happiness was so much more important than Mason's childhood. But Peyton had assured him that it was. Or she would argue that it wasn't more important, but it was just as important, and that she wasn't really doing anything to Mason that hadn't happened to millions of other kids who had turned out just fine.
Ben wasn't entirely sure that they had turned out just fine, but he had yet to win an argument with Peyton, and he'd learned to just keep his mouth shut and let her yell at him for whatever she felt like. Which, when his mouth was closed, she was yelling at him because he wasn't talking to her, but when he opened it, she argued with everything he said. It was a no-win situation.
Maybe Mason felt slightly the same, although Ben couldn't really commiserate with him on that because he refused to talk badly about Peyton in front of his son.
"Mom is right. You're emotionally stunted and don't know how to relate to people. And you act like a child." Mason shoved back away from the table, set his bowl in the sink with a clatter, and started to walk out of the kitchen.
Ben supposed it shouldn't surprise him that his ex-wife had spoken badly about him and said those things.
"Come back here, Mason. I have your list."
Mason slowed, and Ben held his breath until he stopped, turned slowly, and walked slowly back.
"Yes, master?" Mason said sarcastically.
