Christmas Sugar (Insta-Spark)

What the hell was she trying to do? Did she really think I could simply uproot my life? And do what? Become a family man and live in a small town? And live at the Sleepy Moose Inn?

I threw back a shot of scotch, the burn welcome as I moved restlessly around my condo.

What did she expect—I would go out east, marry Alex, and look after her and her children? Become a dad? I scoffed out loud. Marriage—children—neither was on my radar.

The image of Noelle’s little face swam behind my eyes, and the sound of her sweet voice echoed in my head. Her adorable smile and the way she lisped all her words. I knew I would go to Pinegrove to check on the project once it was underway, and chances were, given how small the town was, I would see them, even if I didn’t actively seek them out. Noelle’s teeth would have grown in by then and that endearing part of her would have disappeared, but it would always be how I remembered her.

The next time I saw Seth, he would have grown up even more. He was already on that borderline between being a boy and a man. I knew, with Alex’s influence, he would grow to be a fine one. I thought of our private conversation while I was there. He hadn’t needed sex education—he knew all about sex, or at least, the mechanics of it. He needed someone to talk to about the emotion that came with sex—about how he was feeling for the girl he liked. A little part of me hoped my words would stay with him and help him be the man I knew he could become.

And Alex. My heart clenched as I thought about her. She’d been on my mind endlessly since I returned; no matter how hard I tried not to think about her—and what we shared. Somehow, she was always there, peeking around the corner, filling my mind with thoughts, images, and memories.

I shook my head. It was ridiculous. No matter what mumbo jumbo Arlene spouted about knowing me. I had known Alex a few days. Made love to her a handful of times. We had no history, no long-term plans. We had agreed on that. Other than the one call to let her know I was back safe in Toronto, I hadn’t spoken to her. She had my number, but she hadn’t reached out to me either.

Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Worrying about her. Wondering what she was going to do when the inn was no longer her home. She’d refused every offer I’d made to help her; although, I knew George now had enough money to help her find a safe place to live.

Still, I worried about her. Was she managing? Would she be angry over the gifts I sent? I wanted her and the children to have a good Christmas. To enjoy the day and let them all have a few Santa surprises.

To thank her in some small way for making me feel, even for a short time, as if I mattered. Not Dylan Maxwell the businessman—someone you wanted to have on your side and trade favors with for your own personal and financial gain. Just Dylan—the man. She had brought forth so much emotion—for her, Noelle, and Seth. She had shown me there was more to me than simply someone with a good head for business on his shoulders. She, and the kids, had liked Dylan.

I liked myself when I was with them.

I drained my glass with an angry curse. There was no point in thinking about it. Alex had her life there in Pinegrove, and I had mine here in Toronto. Regardless of what bullshit Arlene had been spewing earlier, I had a life and it was a good one. I had a fantastic condo, a business I ran well, and I stayed busy. I spent my evenings and weekends working out, at various functions, and I . . .

My thoughts trailed off.

I had dinner on occasion with Arlene and her husband. Even rarer, I had dinner with a friend who was in town or I’d bumped into. My last girlfriend had been two years ago, and she had walked out, saying I was emotionally unavailable and a grouch most of the time. I had to agree with her—she made me grouchy with her constant need to spend my money and her frivolous demands on my time.

Since then, though, there had been no one of significance.

Except Alex.

I slammed down my glass—bloody Arlene and her mutterings. I was fine.

I was fine before I met Alex, and I’d be fine once the stupid holidays were over.

I ignored the low jingle in my head that sounded like laughter.

The next day, I arrived at Arlene’s promptly at four. She hated latecomers. I brought two bottles of her favorite wine, as well as had sent flowers earlier. I did it every year. Although, usually, dinner was on Christmas Day, but I assumed she was spending it with her grandkids.

I had spent the day in the office alone, after magnanimously giving Amy the day off. Before she left yesterday, I’d handed her a small bonus, which Arlene insisted she deserved, and a gift certificate for her favorite salon, which Arlene had picked up for me. I refrained from advising her to use it to color her roots and perhaps to embrace her natural hair color for a change. I knew that would be frowned upon, and Arlene would kick my ass, so I wished Amy happy holidays and got my own coffee for the day.

It still wasn’t as good as Alex’s was.

I got a lot done, including going over the plans for the Ocean Bluff Resort. I kept looking at the diagrams. At one point, I had sketched a different design over the top, moving the main entrance and adding a house on the bluff, before shaking my head in disgust. I rolled up the plans and shoved them back into their container.

I was being ridiculous.

Arlene and Simon welcomed me warmly, and we sat down to a pleasant meal, chatting about their plans for the holidays and after she retired. My appetite was off, and I pushed the food around on my plate, pretending to eat. They kept exchanging glances, which I ignored.

After dinner, we sat in their great room, admiring the gigantic Christmas tree in the corner filled with lights and packages sp

illing over in piles beneath it.

With a smile, I held out an envelope, containing the cruise voucher I was giving them, and the gifts I had purchased in Nova Scotia. After many hugs and handshakes, I opened my gifts: the special edition bottle of Courvoisier and a new pair of lounge pants—blue plaid this time. I arched my eyebrow at Arlene.

“Think you’re funny?”

“You found a use for the last pair. I thought these would come in handy for the next time you tried to relax.”