Page 11 of The Art of Being Merry
“That’s probably Dax with breakfast,” I inform the boys. They take less than thirty seconds to throw off the covers and bounce out of bed, through the door, and down the hall. “Don’t open it unless you know it’s him.” Hopefully, my message gets through to them, but I’m not too concerned.
As if robbers ring doorbells.
My head shakes with laughter. Being back in the same state as Willa is wearing off on me.
I meander from bed, remembering too late I slept in a raggedy T-shirt and holey joggers last night. Turning on my heel to grab a robe, Dax’s jovial voice fills the house.
“Morning, boys. Breakfast has arrived.”
I can’t hear what, if anything, the boys respond with, but when I enter the open space, I’m greeted with a sight causing my feet to cease movement. Dax couldn’t have been inside our house for longer than two minutes, yet his coat is off, the food is spread out on the table, and the boys are sitting in their chairs like civilized children instead of the feral creatures usually inhabiting my kitchen.
“Morning, Clementine.”
I hate the long version of my name with a passion. Unless it comes from Dax’s mouth. And he doesn’t even know I hate it. He’s done it all on his own from the time we met, never understanding the complications swirling through me when he addresses me.
“Morning.” I wave my hands toward the table. “Thank you for this.”
“Sure thing.” His eyes rove down the front of me, almost as if he can see what I’m wearing beneath the robe. Under his scrutiny, I tighten the belt holding the robe in place. “Come join us.”
So glad I need an invite in my kitchen.
I refrain from rolling my eyes. He meant nothing by it. Besides, we only have breakfast because of him.
“Don’t mind if I do.” I take a seat across from him.
“I didn’t get them toasted since I didn’t know if we’d be eating right away.” Do I sense some hesitation in his voice?
“No worries. We’ve got a toaster for anyone who wants theirs warm.”
“Me, please,” Atlas says.
“Yep, me too,” Jace confirms with a nod of his head.
I dig in the bag for their bagels, confused to find so many. I gaze at Dax. “This is more than necessary.”
“Dude, no one goes to the bagel store for four bagels. They would have laughed me out of the store. I grabbed a couple for myself, but the rest are yours.”
This man surprises me at every turn. Just when I think I have him pegged, he’s all,surprise, here’s another side of me you haven’t seen yet.It’s a little unnerving.
At least his surprises are positive. Not like the whole,surprise, I have another wifemy ex-husband hit me with. I shudder at the notion, burying it deep where it belongs.
“That was kind of you, thanks.” Dax smiles in return. “Do you want yours toasted?” He’s set a cinnamon raisin on his plate, which he pushes toward me.
“Please.”
“Coming right up.”
While I busy myself with heating the bagels, Dax asks the boys what they want to do while I’m gone.
“Do you play Minecraft?” Atlas inquires.
“It’s been a while. I’m a little rusty, but I’m a quick learner.”
“We also have Super Mario Kart if you’re less rusty on that one.”
Dax chuckles, and the sound is so carefree, so roaring, it zings me in places it shouldn’t.
Good thing I’ve sworn off men. If I’m not careful enough, Dax would make a perfect rebound fling, someone to tide me over until when—if—I decide to get with another man.
