“Did he spill or something?”
She shook her head and smiled. “He’s putting on hisothersuit.”
His Santa suit.
I nodded with understanding.
“You know,” I said softly, “I’ve seen him in action in hisothersuit, and he’s absolutely incredible. He has a real gift.” And because I knew Austin would never talk himself up,especially not to his family, I went on singing his praises. “His photographs, too. Did you know that one of them is going to be on the cover of a magazine next month? He never ceases to amaze me.”
She stared back at me, bewildered. There was something else there, too. Pride, maybe. And why not? She should be proud of her son and the person he had become, the man she had raised him to be.
“Thank you.”
I blinked, taken aback. “For what?”
“For being the partner that my son deserves.”
Fuck.I cursed myself when I felt my eyes water. This was not the time or the place. I refused to cry over shrimp scampi and cod lasagna.
“Please, do me a favor.” Austin’s mom covered my hand with hers. “Be sure to tell him so every day.”
I do.“I will.”
She patted my hand. “Now, pass me the mussels, honey.”
Talk about one hell of a weird Valentine’s Day, that was for sure. Not quite the nonstop fuckfest I had envisioned for my first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend, but still, the night was young.
Austin and I had the entire basement all to ourselves, and there was a brand-new lace teddy burning a hole in my carry-on suitcase.
“Ho, ho, ho.”
Yes. Yes, I am.
Austin descended the stairs dressed in full Santa garb, white gloves and all. His nieces and nephews rushed from the dinner table to greet him, followed quickly by the rest of the family.
I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d told his mom he had a gift. I stood back, poised against the wall covered in childhood photos, watching him engage with the children. How he was ableto give each of them his undivided attention, one at a time, was beyond me.
It was when he was halfway through handing out gifts that the primal urge came over me.
Maybe it was the velvet.
Maybe it was the leather boots.
Maybe it was the fact that he was good with kids and that made me want to do stupid things, like beg him to put a baby inside me.
Whatever the case, I knew that I had to have him now.
White gloves and all.
Austin
“Dear Santa, you might be surprised to know that I’ve been a bad girl this year. And as we both know, naughty girls must be punished.”
I turned the paper into my chest when my two-year-old nephew came streaking through the kitchen in the buff.
“Madison,” I shouted down the hall. “Your kid is naked.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she grumbled, chasing after him.
