The Broody Brit for Christmas (Holiday Springs #1) - M.J. Fields Page 0,64
on the door has me stepping away from the oven and hoping it’s Nikki returning with her bags to move into the studio, but that’s highly doubtful since it’s only a few minutes before five, and she’s pretty adamant about meeting with Nathaniel a few times before settling in.
When I open the door, Nathaniel is smiling up at me.
“You knock at your own home now?” I ask, smiling back as I open the door wider.
Almost grinning, he says, “Aunt Faith said we wouldn’t want to interrupt you if you had friends over.”
“Faith,” I growl.
She laughs. “Well, am I right, or am I right?”
“You’re leaving me with little options.” I nod for her to come in. “I made a roast. It’s almost ready. Stay and eat with us.”
“I think I’ll pass tonight.” Faith smiles. “You two boys have a lot to discuss, I’m sure.”
Sitting next to Nathaniel on the couch watching TV, I know I’ve skirted around the issue long enough. “So—”
He erupts in excited question. “Are you dating Nikki?”
I can’t help but laugh. “How long have you been holding that in?”
“All the way through the potatoes, pork roast, and the peas,” he admits.
I laugh. “I see.”
He turns his body and looks at me. “So?”
“We went on a date.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m asking, Dad. Like, will she be coming over, or is she like the others?”
Before I even have time to think about how to reply, I answer, “She’s nothing like the others.”
He grins. “Do you lo—”
“We’re dating, Nathaniel. We’re going to take it slow.” My lie slips out all too easily. “In fact, she wants to get to know you better before we get too serious.”
“Why? She already knows me.”
“I think perhaps it’s because of how the two of you met initially.”
He rolls his eyes and waves his hand through the air dismissively. “Bygones.”
I can’t help but chuckle. What eleven-year-old uses the term bygones?
“Plus, I know Mom sent her. She was our wish for you, and furthermore—”
“I understand you feel that way, but I’d caution you not to share that with her, as she may find it a bit odd.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “No, she won’t.”
Half of me wants to tell him that he needs to dilute his personality a bit because that could definitely have her running for the hills. The other part of me wants to tell him to go balls out when they meet in a more personal setting. Let her see what she’s in for, but balls out is hardly an appropriate term to use with your eleven-year-old son.
“Dad, she won’t,” he insists.
“I know you may not remember how I treat a woman that—”
“I see how you treat Aunt Faith, every girl that works for you, and—”
“Horrible examples, Nathaniel.” I laugh.
He looks at me confused and then shrugs. “They’re women and—”
“They’re women that I have zero romantic intentions for.”
He covers his ears. “I’m too young to process all that.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud. He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and sits back.
I really need to get him to stop reading parenting magazines, listening to Faith, and possibly stop the counseling appointments that have honestly at this point become the equivalent of allowing a three-year-old to have a pacifier.
He’s good. He’s better than good. He’s happy again.
“Then let me explain what that would mean at an age-appropriate level.”
“Dad,” he groans.
“When you’re dating someone, it’s to get to know them better, not just dive in headfirst into a relationship, but to take it slow.”
And I’m a fucking fraud because I dove in literally face first, then offered her a job and all but begged her to move in here, well, next door.
“Did you and Mom do it that way?”
“We did, but we were young. The more life you live, the more cautious you become.”
“Maybe that’s not a good idea. Maybe you should chuck caution in the air.”
Throw it to the wind, but whatever.
“She’s just moved back here, and she’s very busy. She’s looking for a place to live so she can move out of her family home, and she’s starting a new job next week.”
He gasps. “Then you better make a move quick, or we’ll lose her.”
“Nathaniel—”
“She can live in the drunk tank. She can—”
“Nathaniel, first she’s not leaving Holiday Springs. She’s actually going to work for uncle Beck.”
“In Vail, Dad?” He throws his hands in the air in some sort of exasperation that somewhat shocks me and worries me a bit as well.