“Quiet’s not good?”
“With a five-year-old? No. Quiet is suspicious. Calvin?” she called down the hall.
Just as Julia was about to get up and check on him, Calvin entered the living room, holding a piece of paper. “This is for your house,” Calvin said.
He handed Alex a picture of a Christmas tree. Well, it was a huge green blob with many smaller colored blobs on it, topped with a big yellow spiky object, and Alex assumed it was a tree.
“You drew me a tree?” He looked at Julia for confirmation that it was indeed a tree. She glanced at it and nodded with a smile.
“You can hang it by your fireplace.”
“This is great, little dude,” Alex said. “Thank you.”
Calvin blushed with pride. “Now Santa gots a place to put your loot.”
Alex chuckled. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that big boys didn’t get “loot.”
Amidst protests, Julia put Calvin to bed. Night had fallen, and the only light in the house came from the Christmas tree and the light-up fake fir garland they’d hung around the hearth and bookcases.
She returned and immediately poured a glass of wine. “You want one?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, entering the kitchen behind her. “Trimming trees is hard. I’ve worked up a thirst.”
They remained in the kitchen, sipping wine for a quiet minute. “I both love and hate this time of year,” she said.
“Why?”
“I love the season. Seeing it through Calvin’s eyes. The decorations, the lights, and the goodwill everyone seems to have.”
“Then why do you hate it?”
“I guess hate’s a strong word. I just wish the focus was more on family and special moments and not so much Santa and ‘loot.’” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I have no idea where he learned that word.”
“White Christmas” played softly in the background, and Alex set his glass down and held out his hand. “Wanna dance?”
She raised a brow before setting her glass next to his. “Sure.”
He pulled her close and breathed in her flowery shampoo. There was more holding and swaying than “dancing,” but it got him what he wanted—to feel her in his arms.
“I think I deserve some sort of award for getting the lights untangled,” Alex said.
“Oh, yeah. What d’ya have in mind?”
“This dance will do.”
She laid her head on his chest, and they danced to the soft sounds of Bing Crosby and the light of the tree.
“Good, because I’m not having sex with you while Calvin sleeps in the next room.”
“I was after no such thing,” he said, feigning insult. “This is probably pushing the boundaries of friendship, huh?”
“Probably, but it’s still nice.”
Seducing her had crossed his mind, but he tamped down the urge. If he wasn’t already, he was dangerously close to getting too involved. He liked her—even liked her son—but not enough to marry her. And since that’s what she was after…
This would be the fifteenth time he lectured himself to back off and put some distance between them, but it seemed like fate kept pushing them together. And he couldn’t control fate.
They finished their dance and their wine, and he left.
