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

by Fae Quin

Jesus. The kid smelled like an Axe Body Spray can had shat all over him.

He was nearly as tall as me and the thought made my heart hurt. It felt like just yesterday he’d been my little kiddo. Four feet tall. Chubby as fuck. Covered in bandaids as he ran into walls and cried when the kids at recess didn’t want to play the games he wanted to.

“So you’re telling me because…” He just wanted me to say it. My cheeks burned. My throat grew dry again.

I thought of evergreen eyes, a freckled nose, and laugh lines. I thought of days spent snuggled in bed avoiding work, of laughter, of warmth and care. I thought about coming home to fuzzy sweaters, matching pajamas, and cocoa-filled thermoses. I thought of Baxter. “I love him.” The words popped out of my mouth with surety. I hadn’t even admitted that to myself and yet here I was. “I want him in our lives. I want…” I swallowed. “I want you to love him. I want him to be a part of our family.”

“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.”

Baxter was honestly adorable in every fucking way as I helped him hop up into my truck—he didn’t need the help, I just liked touching him—and we pulled our way out toward Main Street.

While I kept Baxter occupied, pretty much everyone in the entire town was getting the Hullabaloo prepared. I didn’t mind that the celebration’s planning had fallen almost entirely on Becca’s shoulders. It wasn’t my thing. Parties. Planning. People.

He was wearing his heated coat again, and the cream sweater I’d given him. 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.

He’d admitted to me earlier that this was his first real date since high school and he was more than a little nervous.

arm over Baxter’s shoulder and snuggled him against my side. The girl working the counter winked at us and my cheeks flushed a little. I normally wasn’t touchy-feely like this in public. It wasn’t my thing but…

Baxter melted into me and his warm muscled heat against my side was enough to make the rest of the world fade away.

Jesus, his laugh was cute.

When I slipped my hand into his back pocket and gave his ass a lingering squeeze, Baxter just flushed bright red and giggled quietly to himself.

Keeping Baxter occupied took no effort at all. In fact, he was so fucking cute for most of the day I forgot I was supposed to be distracting him at all. It was only when we’d exited the local hat shop with matching beanies on our heads that I remembered to check my phone.

I wanted more in this world than to make him smile every day for the rest of my life.

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.

“You all probably know me as the grouch who lives on the south side of town.” There was a rumble of laughter through the air and I felt it bubble up inside me in answer. “But I’m more than that, apparently.” Everyone silenced again. It was clear no one knew what was happening—aside from Becca. Her shit-eating grin was so bright it could’ve blinded an entire country. “I’m a father,” Paxton swallowed again and I watched his throat bob, enthralled. “I’m a craftsman.” Another swallow. It was clear he didn’t like this, the talking to people bit, the attention. He was like one of those flowers that only bloomed when you left it alone. Why was he doing this? “I’m a lover.” The crowd erupted in excited chatter and I watched Becca’s hands slap over her mouth. I was numb with shock as I stared at Paxton’s face, my heart beating erratically in my chest. A lover? What was he… Surely he wasn’t. In front of the entire town? “Fuck.” More laughter. “This shit sucks.” Paxton scrubbed his hand over his face, burning bright red, clearly uncomfortable as his words sped up. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m in love with Baxter Baker.”

I’m in love with Baxter Baker. I’m in love with Baxter Baker.

I’m in love with Baxt...

“And I’m keepin’ him. If that’s alright with him. My asshole-ry aside.” Paxton glanced down at me, his lips wobbling. “Not that it’s any of your business—aside from Baxter’s of course. But I figured you all have the right...

His eyes said, let me love you. They said, I’m sorry I’m not better. They said, I’m proud to call you mine. They said, give me a chance to show you.

“Oh, and I love you too.” I said softly.

When he kissed me he tasted like Christmas, laughter, and stability. His beard tickled my cheeks, his fingers bunching possessively around my hip as hoots and hollers echoed through the room behind us. Paxton grinned. I kissed him again. He tasted like home.

“He looks better, doesn’t he?” she hummed.

How long had I hated Baxter? How long had I resented his easy laughter, his smiles, his happiness? Had I really been so blind?

He tasted like champagne and I licked the flavor from his soft lips. The kiss lingered, far longer than was probably appropriate, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“I love you,” I promised softly, the words throbbing their way through my heart.

“I love you,” he returned, stroking over my cheekbone in a way that made me weak-kneed and breathless.

Blond Dad and/or Small Dad.

“Let me give them a ring?”

Then I’d produce the simple black engagement band I’d had made for him over the summer. It would be perfect. Literally nothing could ruin it.

Rose petals decorated the floor, candles bleeding wax onto the granite counter. I hadn’t noticed before, but now that I was in the center of the room I couldn’t help but catch the scent of hot cocoa in the air.

Paxton knelt on one knee, surrounded by what looked like a hundred or more roses, his massive body shaking with nerves as he stared at me, cheeks ruddy.

“...

The black velvet ring box trembled in his grip. It was so tiny in his hands it looked like a toy, and I couldn’t help but flounder, trying to backtrack as best as I could as I saw the flicker of hurt and uncertainty glint in his eyes. “Fuck! No. I mean…” I wobbled forward, hopping over the roses as my own hands shook and I scrambled into my back pocket. “No?” He looked hurt.

“I had a pun planned and everything.”

Paxton snorted, the sound devolving into a throaty chuckle as he shook his head and I took what felt like a million years to get down onto my own knees. “You ruined my plans,” I complained softly, though I was only joking as I shuffled through the petals till our bodies pressed together and our chests bumped.

“Is that a yes, then?” he rumbled, already reaching for my hand. “Of course,” I laughed, more than a little delighted.

“Will you marry me, Baxter Baker?” Paxton asked, formally. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I thought back on the last year together. Paxton supported me, loved me, and made me laugh. He was quick to anger but even quicker to soothe—his ire rarely ever pointed in my direction. Despite his gruff exterior he was excellent at communicating and every day he got better about telling me his feelings, just as I got better at telling him mine. After a year in therapy I knew a lot of my issues stemmed from the fear that nothing would be permanent—people died, life moved on, things changed…but Paxton. Paxton was this immovable force. Solid, sure, true. And even with all my fears I never once doubted his love for me.

I loved everything about him. I loved how grouchy he was in the mornings. I loved the way he fretted over Nathan. I loved his laughter, his anger, the way he thought I was the cleverest man on Earth for showing him the ways of heated coats.

Most of all, I loved the fact he’d chosen to lean on me, to trust me. To let me into his heart. To let me love an...

“I was worried you wouldn’t want to s...

laughed. “Did you Google pa...

“I ...

Then I kissed him, sure and sweet, my fingers tangling in the back of his hair as my own ring fell to the floor with a soft little thud. He groaned into the kiss, pulling me in ...

He shoved me back till my shoulder blades met the cold floor. As he pressed between my thighs his tongue slipped between my lips. I groaned around him, my heels digging into his hamstrings as...

We broke the kiss only long enough for me to slip the matching band on his finger. His tongue was hot and slick where it slipped along mine and I whined...

and Baxter.

Forever would never be long enough, but it was a good start.