good.”
“His name is Broxen, and he’s not a demon…” I think. Gabriela’s brow furrowed, and she frowned. “You’re taking all this really well.”
Ana shrugged. “He said he’d always look out for us, that he’d keep us safe.”
Gabriela’s frown eased. “He told you that?”
Her daughter nodded. “I don’t think he’s scary. I still want him for my dad.” She grinned and leaned closer to Gabriela. “I’ll be the only kid in school with a demon dad.”
Gabriela laughed; her little girl was hopeless. “He’s not a demon. And not your dad.”
Yet.
She caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Broxen wasn’t Ana’s father yet, but…Gabriela wanted him to be. Even with today’s revelation. It hadn’t changed what she felt for him.
I want you for my mate, and I want Ana to be my kit.
Though it wasn’t loud, a rustling sound at the front door made Gabriela start. She looked that way to see the top of the tree jutting in through the doorway. Broxen ducked and stepped across the threshold, carrying the tree in fully. His footfalls were heavy on the floor.
He was tall enough that he had to duck through most doorways, but now Gabby recognized what she’d seen but never questioned—he always dipped his head quite a bit lower than seemed necessary. She had simply assumed it was one of those better safe than sorry situations, that he’d hit his head a few too many times to want to chance it anymore, but now she knew it was because he had horns.
You were supposed to get something to stand the tree in.
“Oh. Sorry, Broxen.” Gabriela gave her daughter’s knee a gentle squeeze and pushed herself to her feet. She hurried into the kitchen to search the cabinets for a large, sturdy bowl, though she wasn’t sure if that would work. While she was kneeling to check under the kitchen sink, she recalled the bucket she’d seen in the laundry room.
“One sec!” Gabriela closed the cabinet, stood up, and jogged the short distance into the laundry room. She retrieved the plastic bucket from the corner, filled it partially in the deep sink, and hefted it out into the living room.
Broxen was standing just inside the front door, holding the five-foot-tall tree nonchalantly.
Even if it didn’t seem to be a burden to him, Gabriela felt bad making him stand and wait. But that made her wonder…how strong was he? He’d flung that mountain lion away like it had been a rag doll, and that thing had to have been over a hundred pounds, and every time he’d lifted her he’d done so like she was weightless.
“Where do we want it?” she asked, shifting the bucket to her front to grasp the handle with both hands.
Broxen turned his head, running his gaze across the living room and dining room, but before he could offer a response, Ana hopped down from the sofa and ran to the carved bear in the corner.
“Here,” she said. “Next to the bear.”
“Fine with me,” Broxen said, meeting Gabriela’s gaze.
Gabby swallowed thickly. She quickly looked away and carried the bucket to the spot Ana had indicated. “I’ll get your lunch ready. How’s a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich sound?”
“Good. Can I have chocolate milk, too?” Ana asked.
“Yep.”
She cast a glance back at Broxen before she made her way into the kitchen. As she took out all the items needed to put the sandwich together, she listened to the soft rustling of the tree as Ana and Broxen discussed how best to stand it.
“This side is fuller,” Ana said. “Turn it this way.”
“Like this?” Broxen asked.
“Well…now it’s leaning.”
“It’s going to lean. It’s standing in a bucket.”
“But that makes it look tired.”
“It’s had a rough day.”
“You’re right. Mom, is there like…a spa day for trees or something?”
Gabriela’s shoulders shook as she tried to hold in her laughter. “Maybe. We’ll…give it an aspirin.”
“Do trees get headaches?” Broxen asked, clearly confused.
“It’s supposed to help with the…water flow?” Gabriela’s brow furrowed as she spread peanut butter on a slice of bread. “You know, I’m not really sure, but they always tell you to do it when you go to tree lots.”
“Are we going to make ornaments?” Ana asked. “I think it’d be happier if it wasn’t naked.”
“It’s not naked,” Broxen said. “It has all these prickly things. Needles.”
“It’s supposed to be a Christmas tree. We have to dress it up. You wouldn’t go out to dinner in your underwear, right?”
Broxen huffed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just trust me, okay?”
“Why don’t you