Let Your Hearts Be Light (Christmas Daddies, #1)

by Fae Quin

The man was…for lack of a better word. Well… Grumpy. Big. Thick. Intimidating. With tattoos galore and more salt than pepper in his beard and wavy, sandy-brown hair. I was maybe only a little ashamed to admit he looked like he’d stepped straight off the webpage of the Nice Wood lumberjack porn website that I paid a monthly subscription to. I had my secrets, so sue me.

He was soft. Kind. Steady as the tide. Solid as a mountain.

I couldn’t help but remember the way he’d clung to me the night before. He’d been all sleepy limbs and heavy lashes as I’d tucked him into my arms and carried him up the stairs to bed. I could feel the way his cheek rubbed against my chest, the steady warm puff of his breath heating my overworked heart.

“Your job as a dad is to set an example for the rest of the world. She learns from you how she should be treated. If you’re distrustful. If you’re distant. If you’re controlling—that’s what she’s going to expect from everyone else. What will happen one day when she moves away?”

“Tire-d, but wheel.” Paxton shook his head, chuckling darkly. His whiskers twitched when he laughed and I couldn’t help but be charmed all over again. “Thank you, thank you.” I bowed and he just laughed harder. “Be car-ful with those puns,” Paxton grinned. “They’re so sharp someone might get hurt.”

“You’re my honey bee. He can find his own fucking hive.”

Wouldn’t be surprised if that kid was the first soufflé to run for president.

We picked out the brightest, most obnoxious, yellow mixer in the history of the universe. And that sweet little girl beamed at me like I’d hung the fucking moon. I realized then that it didn’t matter that I’d just met her. Didn’t matter at all. She was mine.

I’d never connected with someone the way I did with him. He was…fuck. He was sugar cookies, hot cocoa, and Christmas mornings. Sunbeams, summer days, and laughter.

“So we’re adopting them then,” Nathan hummed a moment later with glee. “The Bakers?” I asked, my lips twisting into a smile. He nodded. “Yeah, bud.” I grinned. “We’re adopting them.”

I’d donned the pink houndstooth scarf he bought me for Christmas. I actually liked the color, which surprised me. He claimed it brought out the creme brûlée in my eyes. Whatever the fuck that meant. Honestly if he’d given me a puke-green scarf covered in cow shit I still would’ve worn it. So maybe I was biased.

I heard the chatter behind me but the words blended together as I took a hesitant step toward my…my what? My lover? My boyfriend? None of those words seemed to fit what we were to each other. He was my constant. The moon that rose every night. The crisp taste of snow in the air before the storm ever hit. He was warm hugs, hot cocoa, and wood shavings.