Page 51 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

“Yes?” he asked her.

“Why’re you in here with Uncle Chris?”

“I like him,” he said, crouching down in front of her. “He used to be my boyfriend, and I want him to be my boyfriend again.”

“Oh, for—don’t tell her that,” I groaned.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s gonna get all⁠—”

“I thought you said he was your best friend?”

“And my boyfriend,” he said with a sigh, sounding utterly forlorn.

He was killing me, because yes, I wanted to protect myself, and no, I didn’t want to ever grieve his absence again, but God, my first instinct was to trust and believe. Because clearly, he knew he screwed up, and he was as bereft as I had once been, but when you escaped the blender, why on earth would you ever want to take a chance and go back in?

“You could come have dinner too,” she informed him.

“He can’t do that. He’s singing here tonight.”

Her face lit up, and Dawson was back to smiling because she was. “You sing?”

“I play the guitar as well.”

“I want to play guitar.”

“I could teach you,” he offered.

“May I speak to you over here?” I said, and it came out sharper than intended.

He glanced at Cami. “Did that sound like he was asking me?” She shook her head, and he looked back at me. “Am I in trouble?”

“Would you please come here,” I demanded, standing next to the window.

It was a large office so it took him a moment plus, he crossed slowly, the swagger evident. When he was close enough, I grabbed his arm and yanked him over to me.

“Okay,” he said with a catch of breath. “The manhandling I remember.”

“Quit that,” I growled. “You cannot promise things to a little girl that you have no intention of following up on. She will get attached, and we can’t have that. She’s had more disappointments in her short life than⁠—”

“Try and really listen this time,” he rumbled, facing me, quickly slipping his hands around my hips, up under my shirt, his fingers taking hold of the belt loops of my jeans. “I am not going anywhere.”

“Dawson…”

“I am telling you right now, I want you back. I am down in my soul sorry I messed up, Chris. I’m sorry I left, but I’m different now, and I have a whole new set of priorities that include you at the top of the list.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re⁠—”

“Yes, it does,” he murmured, stepping in even closer, his lips brushing the side of my neck, just that much contact causing goose bumps. “I’m going to stay and prove to you that I’m your home.”

I shook my head. “Sonny––”

His filthy chuckle cut me off. “Well, now. That right there is a very good sign,” he said, gloating. “Never Daw with you, love, only Sonny.”

Good God, what had I done? And how had the nickname just slipped out of my mouth?

“I don’t care how long you’ve been over me,” he whispered, his right hand sliding higher, smoothing over skin, stroking reverently, seductively. “I’m here now, I’m back, and I know your first instinct is to punish me, to stay away from me, try and push me away, but that’s a waste of both our time.”