Page 16 of Playing Santa

“It smells like heaven in here.” He walks straight for me and Jimmy jumps from his chair and goes to him. We end up in a group hug as if we’re a family and the dizziness of unreality hits me. This can’t be. It’s not real. He’s not mine. Not even close. No matter how strong the attraction is between us, that’s all it is. An unholy attraction to a man who’s paying me for a job.

Being his employee is more important than being his lover. I escape from his hold, trying not to offend him or make a big deal of it.

“I made dinner for you. It was the least I could do.” I take Jimmy’s hand. “Go wash up, Jimmy, then we have to get home.” The kiddo gives me a disappointed look, but I give him my Mom look back and he scoots to the bathroom.

To give Sean credit, he waits until Jimmy is gone to touch my hand.

“Stay,” he says, quietly. If he’d been demanding, I’d have been able to work up some righteous indignation, but his quiet invitation, the boyish plea, undoes me, though not completely

“I can’t. It’s not cool. You’re my employer. Speaking of which—you’re paying me too much.” I can’t let him sway me. I can’t let him buy me, own me.

“No, I’m not. I looked up dog-sitting services. I’m paying for what I need. And I truly need your help, You and Jimmy are really bailing me out.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Which part?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “The part about the dog-sitting service fees being this high.”

“I’ll prove it to you.” He walks to the built-in desk and throws open the laptop computer sitting there and punches some keys. Since school I’ve had only minimal experience with using computers and the internet, mostly at work. I usually stick to working with the animals. Seeing him easily master the electronic beast intimidates the hell out of me. God I’m so pathetic.

Picking up the computer he brings it to the counter and shows me the screen. It shows the website of an elite pet sitting service in Boston and the fees they charge for various services.

“Shit.” I blow out a whistle. “They’re thieves.”

He laughs. “So now you don’t feel so bad about accepting your fee?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m no thief.”

“No, but I trust you and Jimmy and no amount of money can pay for the kind of loving care I know you’ll give Dasher.”

“You got me there.”

“Plus, I’m pretty sure whatever that heavenly scent is coming from the oven is the kind of perk that this pet sitting service does not include. What did you cook for me, Ronnie?”

“Don’t make it sound dirty,” I say, my insides heating up at the tone of his voice, the look in his eye.

He takes a step closer, but I’m saved by the buzzer. The oven timer sounds off.

“Lasagna. And vanilla cake with chocolate peanut butter frosting. My own secret recipe.”

“Fuck—pardon my French—but that sounds fantastic. Let’s eat.”

“Jimmy and I already ate, so we’ll get going now.”

“Don’t leave, Ronnie. I hate eating alone.” He pauses, and I feel the prevarication, the crumbling of resolve begin. “For real,” he adds.

His words topple whatever resistance is left quicker than the small squeeze he gives my hand, but all together, I’d feel mean if I left now.

When Jimmy comes back to the kitchen all washed up, I let him know we’re staying for dinner and he’s ecstatic. Of course. Sean helps Jimmy into a seat between him and me while I set our places at the kitchen island. He talks to Jimmy about Dasher and football and watch them. Is it a good thing or bad thing that Jimmy adores him, that he’s so at ease and genuine with my son? It’s good for Jimmy to have a man who’s a good positive role model, who takes a real interest in him.

Not so good that the relationship is messy and likely transient. Shit. Can I afford to let Jimmy bond with this man? It seems cruel to stop it, but how can it continue?

If I’m on my best behavior and keep my relationship with Sean professional, it can continue. Keep that tug I feel to lick every part of his body under lock and key will be a challenge. Especially since Sean seems hell-bent on exploring that sizzle between us. Trying not to seem pre-occupied, I eat the lasagna. The three of us eat way more lasagna than I expected, but there’s still plenty of leftovers so I don’t feel too bad.

“I can’t believe it’s eight o’clock.” I shoot up from my chair when I hear a cuckoo clock chime. “We have to get going, Jimmy so you can get up for school.”

“Does this mean you’re not staying for cake?” Sean says it for my ears only and I shoo Jimmy back to the mud room to get on his jacket and shoes.