And with that, he backs out of his parents’ driveway and heads for home.* * *With Christmas in a week, I start to panic. I’ve completed a handful of jobs in the last few weeks, including All Fit’s website and branding package, as well as other site designs and restructures. My bank account is comfortable, which is why I’m heading out today to go Christmas shopping. I’ve already sent Tina a package, but still have Mom and Grandma to take care of, as well as Milo, Colton, and a hostess gift for his parents, Connie and Wes.
I got this.
It’ll be fun, especially with my little sidekick, Milo, in tow.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay today? It’s supposed to snow again later,” Colton says as he fills up his water bottle in the kitchen.
Milo’s on my hip, holding my hair, as he does most nights as he tries to fall asleep, babbling as if he’s in the conversation with his dad. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Milo?” I ask, bending down and raspberry kissing his chubby cheek.
“How about if you take my truck? I’ll drive your car to the gym,” he offers, drying his hands on a hand towel and tossing it on the counter.
I want to smile in return. If I’ve learned anything about Colton Callahan in the last month, it’s that he’s protective of his son, and me. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take your truck.”
He nods and grabs my car keys off the counter, which are right beside his. After our discussion about what I saw in California, he made sure I have keys to all the doors, including the front one that he uses. He runs outside and starts my car so he can take it, letting it warm up. While the temperature isn’t consistent with what I imagine winter in the Midwest to be, it definitely has some very chilly mornings. One thing I’ve learned is that Mother Nature can be a little whacky. One day she’s fifty and beautiful, and the next twenty degrees and snowing.
It’s definitely taking some getting used to.
“The truck is ready when you’re ready,” he insists as he comes back inside and wraps his arms around me and Milo. When he got the garage ready, I insisted he park his truck in there. Not only is he the owner of the house, but it’s the usual vehicle to transport Milo. He argued up one side and down the other, but in the end, when I threw his son into the equation, he relented.
“Thank you,” I tell him, just as I lean up on my tiptoes and swipe my lips against his. He tastes like mint and coffee, and so very much like Colton. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough.
“Are you sure you even need to leave today?” he asks. He’ll be gone most of the day. As Christmas approaches, the gym has been hopping as everyone gets all their sessions and classes in before the holidays. His self-defense classes have been sold out, and Harrison is considering adding another in the new year. I’m excited for him, but I know he’s torn. More time at the gym means more time away from Milo.
He still goes to Gwen’s, but only three days a week. Any other time, he’s home with me. I’m able to get a lot of work done on those three days, and then a little when I’m with Milo. But to be completely honest, I’d much rather spend my day with him on the floor, rolling over and sitting up, than working on my computer.
“Yes, Mr. Worry Wart. I have to finish my Christmas shopping. If I don’t get my gifts for Mom and Grandma in the mail ASAP, they won’t get there in time. Besides, the snow isn’t supposed to start until this afternoon. We’ll head out soon, get our shopping done, and be home before the first flake falls,” I reassure him.
Colton sighs. “Okay, but be careful. People are crazy this time of year. I don’t need you getting hurt over a toaster.”
“First off, that’s Black Friday that brings out the crazies. And second, I wasn’t going to get you a toaster. I was thinking about a blender,” I tease, fighting to contain my smile.
Strong arms wrap around my torso as he pulls me against his chest. “A blender, huh? I do like to blend things.”
Milo bellows, before reaching up and smacking Colton in the face.
“Hey, little buddy, we don’t hit. No, no,” he tells his son sternly. Milo brings on the waterworks, ducking his head into my neck and holding on tight. “Awww,” Colton grumbles, reaching down and taking his son from my arms. Milo tries to hang on tight but is no match for his dad. “Listen, little man, I love you with all my heart, but you can’t hit. That’s not a good boy,” Colton instructs. Milo’s tear-filled eyes widen as he listens to his dad.