Page 22 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

Sutton didn’t blame her. She did too. ‘Noted.’ She looked at the pile of clothes on the bed. How she longed to accept them!

Gus lifted his wrist to check the time and grimaced. ‘We need to get moving, or I’ll be late getting the kids to school,’ he said, moving to the door, his daughter still in his arms. When he brushed past her, she inhaled the scent of shower gel and shampoo. ‘Add the clothes to my IOU, Sutton.’

She tried to smile. ‘I’ll have to sell another kidney.’ How lovely it would be not to dread going outside, to be able to walk and not feel like her fingers and toes were about to fall off. ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’

‘I wish everything was as easy to sort as that,’ he said, smiling. Did he look at her mouth a little too long or was she imagining that? Moving on. Sutton glanced at Rosie. ‘Actually, can we have a conversation at some point about the fruit of your loins, and my facilitating certain activities that will ensure their maximum enjoyment of the season?’

He frowned at her wieldy, cumbersome sentence – she didn’t want to get Rosie’s hopes up – but he twigged on quickly enough. ‘Are you sure you want to do that? The music might cause your brains to seep out your ears, the screams of delight will give you a headache and I might have to reinflate the man of the season so that you can punch the cra— stuffing out of him to relieve your frustration.’

She grinned at him, loving the glint of humour in his eyes. He was such a sexy man, and even hotter when he smiled. ‘I’ll take my chances.’

His smile was low and slow and oh-so-steady. ‘Sure. I’d appreciate that.’

Yay! ‘Can we start with a certain coniferous plant?’

He frowned, and a hint of distress jumped into his eyes. Did he object to a Christmas tree? Why? Then he nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll arrange that.’

‘Can I bring your offspring down to the shop so that they can choose how they want it…embellished?’

‘There are boxes of the stuff in storage. I’ll haul them out.’ Right, he didn’t sound enthusiastic, but he wasn’t saying no, either. She could work with that.

‘Why are you using big people’s words?’ Rosie demanded.

‘So that little people can’t understand us,’ Gus told her, heading for the door.

Sutton followed him out of her messy room, darting a look at her bra. She rolled her eyes on noticing the matching panties on the seat of the chair, the thin thong on display.

‘Nice underwear,’ Gus softly murmured. ‘I like the colour.’

Oh, kill her now. Again, how should she respond?Thanks? Should I model them for you? I have the same set in deep violet?Sutton slapped the forthright and flirty imp off her right shoulder. No lusting after your boss, Sutton. Your sexy,niceboss.

‘So, you said something about me walking the dogs?’

Judging by the amusement in his eyes, he knew she was trying to change the subject. But, thankfully, he followed her lead.

‘They’ll take you for a walk,’ he replied as they walked down the stairs. ‘At the end of the garden is a gate leading to the grounds of the Conningworth Estate. Unless you want to spend an hour drying Pig off, I suggest you keep him from swimming in the stream and duck pond.’

‘And how do I do that?’ Sutton asked. She stopped and stood on the third step up, and pushed her hands into the front pockets of her Levis.

‘He’s nutty about tennis balls. There’s a bucket in the hall, take three or four, or five or six, and keep throwing them for him,’ Sutton said, placing Rosie on her feet at the bottom of the stairs. Her tears forgotten, she ran into the kitchen.

Gus started to pick hats and coats off the hooks next to the front door. Shoes and boots sat on a rack next to an old brass coal bucket filled with walking sticks. His wife had put a lot of thought, and money, into decorating the house, and pre-kids it would’ve been quite a showpiece. But the toys and the crayon drawings, the dogs’ leashes, chewed plastic bones and ratty ropes, the detritus of family life softened the sharp edges of the design. And she thought the house looked better for it.

It would look amazing with a huge Christmas tree in the space next to the steps, and the banister decorated with ivy.

Gus made a pile for Felix – hat, gloves and jacket on top of his school bag – and another for Rosie. His cell and wallet lay in another shallow Raku-fired bowl, a twin to the one in the formal lounge with its still dirty couch.

‘So, my mother-in-law will collect the kids from kindergarten today. She has them every Thursday. She’ll give them tea and I’ll collect them when I’m done at work.’

Oh.Sutton was surprised by her surge of disappointment. She’d been strangely looking forward to spending time with the kids later, getting to know them a little better. Now her day stretched out before her, with little to do but to take the dogs for a walk.

‘Um…okay.’

‘Problem?’ Gus asked, placing his hand on his hips. He’d pushed the sleeves of his jersey up his arms. His fingers were long, his hands broad, and raised veins ran along the back of his hands and up his arms. Sparks skittered up her arm. So not helpful.

‘No, of course not,’ she stuttered, tipping her head up to look into his eyes. He looked puzzled, so she opted to explain. ‘I know I’m, supposedly, on holiday but it’s been non-stop for months, trying to pack too much into too little time. In Cape Town, I was working and studying. I’m not used to having downtime, and time drags when you have nothing to do.’

‘You still look tired.’

---