Page 5 of A Christmas Bargain
“Thanks.”
“I stopped in her classroom the other day for the first-and-fifth grade partners,” she said. “And you will get such a kick out of what she wrote down on her paper.”
Oh, no.“Oh, yeah?” I had a strong feeling where this was going. Naomi didn’t care much for her fifth-grade buddy who had been assigned to her. She claimed the girl was annoying and too boy-crazy to focus on any joint assignments that came up around holiday times.
It was a letter to Santa project. And if there was one thing I knew my daughter wanted, more than anything in the world, it was something I couldn’t give her. Something Mackenzie wouldn’t, either. No woman would.
Please don’t say she wrote that she wants a mommy for Christmas. Please.
“She says she wantsthreepuppies.” Mackenzie laughed, shaking her head. “The things kids say.”
I lightened up, exhaling in relief that Naomi hadn’t written that she wanted a mother for a Christmas miracle. She never knew Jenna, her mother. My late wife was one of a kind, never to be replaced. “Three. Wow,” I replied.
“That would be such a handful,” Mackenzie said. She let her coat flap open. Then she tugged at her blouse, to prompt the fabric to show more of her cleavage. “I bet you already have your hands full with Naomi, huh? Being a single daddy has to be tough.”
I shook my head. “Nah. Naomi and I are great. We’ve got what we need. Just the two of us.”
“Well, I bet Stacy and Nicky help, too,” she said, giggling lightly.
I nodded. They were all who remained of the family now, and I appreciated their help—most of the time. My younger sister Stacy just had to be best friends with Mackenzie, and I didn’t approve of her trying to constantly matchmake me with her BFF. My brother-in-law loved being a hands-on uncle, too, but even he couldn’t convince Stacy to stop trying to foist women on me.
“But is that true?” she asked, lowering her voice into something more seductive than curious. “Doyouhave everything that you need?”
I nodded again, feeling like a damn bobblehead. “I sure do.”
“You don’t need…” She traced her finger along the edge of her open shirt. Leaning down toward my window, she didn’t leave anything to guesswork. This wasn’t the first time she’d tried to snare me and my attention. She wasn’t the first woman to try to direct my line of sight to what she thrust in my face. “You don’t need anything at all?”
“Nope.” I kept my face passive and blank. “I’m good.”
“Well, sure. Youlookgood.” She smiled wider. “You look good enough to eat.”
“Not a fan of cannibalism, Ms. Ford.”
She laughed, tittering and throwing her head back like I was a comedian. “Oh, you are funny, too!”
Hardy. Har. Har.
“And what’s it going to take to get you to stop calling me Ms. Ford?” She reached through the window to swat at my arm, but since I’d only lowered it halfway, her gesture wasn’t as smooth as I bet she intended it to be.
“My bad,” I lied.
“Bad? You want to bebad?” she teased, licking her lips.
For the love of?—
“I just want to pick up my daughter and go home,” I replied curtly.
“Is that an invite for me, too?” She winked.
“No,” I stated, deadpan.
“Hmm. Maybe next time.”
Maybe never.“Look, Ms. Ford?—”
“It’s just Mackenzie,” she said, smiling again.
No. It would always be Ms. Ford.If formality could serve as a boundary between us, I’d keep it. “Listen. I’m not looking for anything that you’re suggesting.”