Page 44 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

Roaring with laughter at my childish expression, he flips me underneath him.

Pressing kisses on my lips and nose, he licks my cheek, finding it hilarious when I try to push him off.

“I did more than lick you, last night, Abby,” He laughs.

This time when he nears my face, I sink my teeth in his shoulder, making him roll over to safety, eyeing me with laughter in his eyes, “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

I snap my teeth at him, “I’ll bite you if you lick me again!”

Seeing the interest spark in his eyes, I groan, a sound of both amusement and exasperation.

I had expected an awkward next morning, mostly on my part, but as I watch Steven put on a soft cashmere pullover over his jeans, I feel my heart cave a little bit.

This man couldn’t be this perfect, could he?

“Dad! Jarvis says we can have pancakes for breakfast if we don’t make a mess in the kitchen.”

The door opens to a sleepy-eyed Aaron in his pyjamas.

He stares at me and then rubs his eyes, and then stares some more.

The delight in his eyes was unmistakeable, “Miss Abby?”

I wave my fingers at him, a little awkwardly, “Hi!”

He rushes over to me, “Are you having breakfast with us?”

He couldn’t stop jumping with excitement, “Do you want to help us make pancakes?!”

I stare helplessly at Steven who waggles his eyebrows at me.

And just like that I find myself in the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt that was far too baggy for me and boxers that I had to tighten around my waist with a bowstring, making chocolate-chip pancakes.

“You’re doing it wrong!” I snatch the bowl from Steven who was whipping the batter like it was a life and death situation.

“Hey!” He growls at me, offended.

I roll my eyes at him, “It’s pancake batter, not the kid who stole your pencil in grade school.”

Aaron stood on a stool, whisking the eggs, holding the bowl to his chest as he tries not to spill any, “Am I doing it right, Abby?”

I let him call me Abby, since it was weird to hear him call me Miss Abby while I was in his home.

“That’s great!” I ruffle his hair. “You keep whipping those eggs for one more minute.”

I eye Steven warily, “You can use a stove, can’t you?”

He scoffs at me, “In my sleep.”

Aaron looks up, confused, “I thought Jarvis said you weren’t allowed near the stove because you bl-“

His father put his hand over his mouth, glaring at him, “Not another word.”

I shrug, eyeing the storm still raging outside, and let Steven heat the stove.

The pancakes turn out a little too done, at least the first few. After the first batch, I nudge Steven aside with my hip and take over.

It was half an hour later that we sat down for breakfast. I watch both father and son devour the eggs and pancakes.

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