Page 26
“Scar?”
“Huh?” I force myself to look up at his face instead of blatantly ogling his body. Shit.
Oh no.
“Dinner. I’d like to make it tonight, is that okay?”
“Right. Yeah, sure.” I’m too shaken by my own traitorous brain to point out that he’s done more than enough and the least I can do is cook. But he looks happy when I say yes.
“Grand. I’m going to go get started before we have two hangry little monsters.”
He brushes my back when he passes me, and I swear I can still feel him when he’s halfway downstairs.
I am well and truly fucked.
The last thing I need to do right now is get hung up on a guy, and the last guy I need to get hung up on is Killian. He’s my ex’s son, my kids’ half-brother, and even if he wasn’t all of those things, I, of all people, know better than to be remotely interested in someone who lives halfway across the world.
12
Scarlett
When Killian bundled us all in the car and told us he had a surprise for us, I didn’t expect him to drive straight to my parents’ house. I peer out the window and it’s like he sees the thought running through my head.
“This isn’t the surprise, for the record. That’s coming later, but we need to get a Christmas tree first,” he says, and I laugh.
“I was going to say, you’d be hard-pressed to surprise me here. I know this place inside and out.”
The field Landon converted into a parking lot is full of cars, but we have family privilege, so Killian drives past it, parking in front of the farmhouse.
I can already see dozens of people milling around Landon’s Lucky Wonderland. The scent of chocolate and cinnamon emanates from the food truck; there’s Christmas music playing, and even more twinkly lights than he had last year. The farm is glowing.
It’s like something out of a movie, which is exactly what Landon wanted when he set this place up.
Killian helps Caitlin out of the car, while I get James out of his car seat and zip his puffer jacket all the way to his chin.
“Cozy-check time,” Killian says, hands on his hips. “Hat check.”
I watch, amused, while the kids touch their hands to their hand-knitted hats. “Glove check.” They hold up their hands for high fives, and Killian obliges. “Scarf check.” Caitlin and James do a little shimmy while holding their scarves out like feather boas, and I have to look away to stop myself from doubling over laughing.
Killian claps his hands. “Looks like we’re ready to go.”
“Wait! Mama didn’t do cozy check.”
This is the first time I’m hearing of cozy check, but it’s a cute way for Killian to make sure they’re dressed for the weather. I warned him when he started watching them that Caitlin, especially, doesn’t love being wrapped up.
I look down at myself. I have the hat and gloves, but not a scarf.
“Sorry, Caity-cat. I didn’t bring a scarf.”
Killian unwinds the scarf from around his neck, steps forward, and loops it around mine. “Well, we can’t have that.”
It’s blue, with red and white stripes, and smells like him—woody and cozy and comforting. Problematically comforting.
“I’m more used to this weather than you are,” I point out. His nose is already bright pink and we’ve only been outside for two minutes.
“I’m trying to acclimate. It’ll do me good. Besides, I don’t want you to get sick,” he says, like it’s no big deal, and I don’t think he realizes what it does when he says those kinds of things to me.
It’s been two days since I found myself attracted to possibly the worst person I could be attracted to at this point. Yesterday, I avoided thinking about it by staying at work for an extra few hours, then popping a melatonin gummy and crashing the second the kids fell asleep. Now, wrapped up in his scent, it’s harder to avoid.
