For the Children

“It was guy talk, Mom,” he told her in a voice a couple of octaves above his own. “And it’s Christmastime.”

Although she had a pretty strong hunch there’d been more than Christmas to the conversation, Valerie was content to let it go. While part of her needed to know everything that went on in her sons’ lives, more of her reveled in the chance to share some of the burden.

“That’s quite a list.” Valerie tilted her head to the side. He was close, reading over her shoulder. If he leaned down just a little bit farther…

“I make a lot of cookies.” The boys couldn’t possibly be asleep yet. And even if they were, she wasn’t going to have sex with their basketball coach while they were anywhere close.

Not that he’d asked.

She also knew that what they’d done the other night could not be described so callously. Maybe they hadn’t made love—she wasn’t ready to acknowledge anything so frightening and dangerous—but they’d certainly done more than “have sex.”

“You’re buying a ham?”

“The boys don’t like turkey.”

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t hope. Or impose. But… “What are you doing for Christmas dinner?”

If he said he was—

“Eating out.”

“No.” Valerie whirled on the stool, looking up at him. “You are not going to a restaurant on Christmas Day. If you’re going out anywhere, come here.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” If she’d known it was going to be that easy…

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

Anything she might have said to that was lost in the touch of his lips against hers. And in the all-consuming need that soared through her the instant he touched her. Four days had been too long.

Apparently for him, too, as his breathing was heavy and uneven when he finally pulled away. “We’re going to have to find a way to be alone sometime during the next two weeks, or I might not be responsible for the results,” he said with an exaggerated grimace.

Because she was ready to throw everything to the winds in her need to be with him, Valerie didn’t dare tell him that the boys were going to be spending the week between Christmas and New Year’s with her parents. She was afraid to say anything yet; afraid to make that much of a commitment. The trip had been her parents’ Christmas present to her, some time all to herself with no responsibilities. Until recently, she’d been dreading the loneliness.

Now she was dreading what might happen—would happen—if she had a week without supervision, even of the twelve-year-old variety.

Especially that kind.

“What’s going on with us?” she asked Kirk, her face serious as she gazed at him. In his usual jeans and, tonight, a faded maroon sweater, he stood there, the epitome of everything she wanted in a man.

Or almost. She would’ve preferred a little more drive to make the most of his God-given talents, but it was such a small thing compared to his work with the kids, his need to make a difference in their lives. To his honesty. His loyalty.

To the fact that he was well known at the coffee shop he frequented many nights a week instead of at a local bar.

It took him so long to answer, she almost wished she could take back the question. She hadn’t wanted to ruin the moment.

“I’m not sure,” he finally said, his eyebrows drawn as he held her gaze. “With my paternity suit still undecided, I’m still not free. Nor has enough changed for you and the boys. Blake’s continued to have stomachaches, and we can’t be certain that Brian will hang on to those pounds he gained.”

“I know.”

“But the companionship is damn nice.”

“Yeah.”

“So I guess we just take things one day at a time and see how it all plays out.”

It was no answer at all. She knew that. And suspected he did, too. But it was the best they had. “Okay.”