Kit (A Little Christmas Season Three)

Chapter 8

8

Parker

I t was lucky that both our jobs had a two-week Christmas holiday through New Year’s. We both had work the day after our lunch date on Monday, but that was the last day of work for the year.

That meant Tuesday and on, I could have Kit all to myself.

As we parted from the diner, I added more detail to my invitation as we walked through the parking lot. “If you would like, you can spend the week with me at my house. It’s not a command. It’s an invitation. You can bring your things and stay. I have a guest room if you want it.”

He scratched his head in confusion. “But things will work out. You’ll make sure, right?”

“Right.”

“Then I won’t need your guest room.”

“I just want you to know there is no pressure, Kit. I’m not the jump and run type of daddy, okay?”

When I said that, he’d hopped forward in the parking lot, hugging me hard. “I know that now. I’m so happy. I can’t wait for Tuesday.”

It was cold out. A strong wind blew over us. But his hug had warmed me to my bones.

Monday night I rushed about my house getting things ready for my special guest. I vacuumed and dusted and made sure I had clean sheets. I brought out boxes of Christmas decorations and lights, knowing Kit would probably want to help me put everything out.

Excitement fizzed through my veins.

I did a bit of shopping, but I hoped we could do real Christmas shopping together as one of our activities.

By Tuesday morning I was ready for Kit. I had texted him my address and told him to show up by noon and I’d have lunch ready for us.

Right at twelve, the doorbell rang.

Kit had a backpack and a computer bag with him. He held the teddy bear I’d seen him with the first night he sat on Santa’s lap. He had on the boy clothes I’d grown to love, plus a parka and scarf. Cold wind blew his hair his eyes.

“Kit, come in.”

“I’m so glad you invited me.”

“I’m thrilled you accepted.”

He stepped in, immediately complimenting everything he saw.

“Ohhh, your house is big and so pretty.” He set down his stuff but kept the teddy in his arms. “I live in a condo. It’s nice, but not like this.”

“Consider this your home for the rest of winter vacation.”

“If, that is, you don’t kick me out for being naughty.” He clenched his teeth against a forced smile, showing teeth.

I raised my eyebrow. “I can’t imagine that would be my choice of discipline.”

I’d thought this through all the way. Playing and replaying how he felt in my lap and when we’d hugged. All my responses to him, both emotionally and physically, convinced me we were right for each other. He’d fitted into my arms perfectly. I wanted more and he did, too.

I led him to my dining room table next to the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a valley and distant snowcapped peaks.

“Look!” He pointed just like a little would. “Snow on the mountains.”

“I paid extra for the view.”

“I love it. I hope it snows here before Christmas.”

“It’s certainly cold enough.”

He rubbed his hands together. “I love snow. Would you build a snowman with me?”

“I’d love to.”

I watched as he slowly reverted to his little self. His chin lowered and the muscles of his face got fuller as he pursed his lips in a sort of pout. He pushed his bangs away with the back of his hand, then bounced up on the balls of his feet when he looked at the setup on the dining room table.

“Pizza!” he squealed.

“And wings and a crisp green salad.”

“Ugh.” He shook his head. “No salad.”

“It has vitamins good for growing boys.”

“Hmph. My favorite vitamin is pizza.”

I laughed. “Let’s eat.”

We sat down and helped ourselves to everything. I served Kit a helping of salad even though he wrinkled his nose.

It was as if we’d been together for weeks or longer, not the few times we’d seen each other. Everything was natural with Kit. How was he still single?

I learned a few things during our meal. Kit picked off every olive from his pizza slices. He wanted milk instead of water or soda. It seemed he liked ranch dressing more than the chicken with the amount he slathered on it.

I noted everything he did, eager to learn more about this sweet boy.

After cleaning up, which I insisted on doing myself, though he did help clear the table, I gave him a tour.

When we got to my bedroom, he screeched and ran to the bed, diving into it so his whole body hit and bounced twice. Then he sat up. His eyes were big, imploring.

“When do I get to call you Daddy?”

I held out my hands to the room, offering up my space to him. “Right now would be wonderful, sweetheart.”

“Daddy, this is all so amazing. Thank you for sharing it with me. And Christmas, too. I like thinking I’ll wake up with someone on Christmas day instead of alone.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ve never had a daddy at Christmas time. The timing on my dating life was never just right for it. And when I was younger, I flew out to my parents’ house for every holiday.”

“Well, isn’t it good we have each other for company, then.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes!” He hit the bed with both fists.

“Let me show you around.”

“This room, right? Not any old guest room. I’m scared of the dark. At home I have nightlights all over. And my stuffed animals as guards.”

“All right.”

How easily we’d just settled that matter. He would sleep with me. I loved his babyish insistence. Littles could be demanding, and I would only put my foot down if the demands were irresponsible or dangerous. Otherwise, I was the sort of daddy who loved to spoil.

“Oh boy, Daddy. We’ll have so much fun.”

Didn’t I already know it. I’d already adored Kit the first time we met. Now that feeling had increased ten times.

“Daddy? Where’s the bathroom? I have to pee.”

“Come on,” I said gently. “This way.”

It was beginning for us. As natural as earth and water and air. Our connection. The way our chemistry so easily matched.

He had so much energy, excited about the big mirrors, the large glass shower and the fact that I had a separate tub.

“All right, sweetie, here’s the toilet. I’ll just wait outside.”

He looked up at me wide-eyed, serious. “Sometimes I need help with the buttons.”

My, my.

He turned toward me, face very serious. What a good boy.

I put my hands on his waistband. “I’m a pro at undoing buttons.”

He said nothing as he looked down and watched my thumbs and forefingers go down the line of his Levi 501s. His fly parted showing sky blue briefs with little white dogs all over them.

I looked him in the eye and said, “Did you wear those for Daddy?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Because you gave me a real nice dog that I loved. But I lost him.”

I put my hand under his chin and tipped his face up. “I believe you told me it was stolen.”

He scrunched up the side of his face. “It was. Because I set him down and wasn’t looking after him.”

“Oh sweetie, that’s not your fault.”

“It isn’t?”

“Not at all. Daddy never allows anyone to blame the victim. Someone was a thief. The crime was theirs, not yours.”

His face brightened. “Thank you, Daddy. That makes me feel better.”

He turned toward the toilet, while I moved back into the bedroom, closing the door halfway to give him privacy. As I heard him wash his hands, I walked to my big bedroom window and opened the curtains. It had a side view toward the mountains, but being upstairs there was also a balcony overlooking several trees.

Kit came out of the bathroom. He ran toward the window. “Wow. You have an arch top window. And it’s so big. It looks like a painting.”

“I had the window put in special after I bought the house.” It was paned and the arch made it a showcase for the view. I had been in a fancy mode back then, wanting all the ruffles on the curtains even though it cost more, and all new carpets. I’d finally gotten a house I could call my own and I wanted it my way.

A little further down were French doors that led to the balcony. All that paned glass meant less wall space. Because of the size of the room, I didn’t miss it.

“I love it. I love your house, Daddy. You picked a good one.”

“I love it, too, baby boy.” I paused. “Can I call you baby boy? You’re not really a baby.”

He tilted his head. “Say it again.”

“Baby boy.”

“I like it. But I like sweetheart, too.”

“I’ll remember.”

That afternoon, I brought out the games I’d planned to use to entertain Kit. They were games I loved, and over the years of being a Daddy, I had accumulated a lot. Mouse Trap. Hungry Hungry Hippos. Chutes and Ladders. Candy Land. Sorry. Trouble.

We played them all until my ass hurt from sitting too long.

We were both hungry anyway, so I told Kit to grab his parka, and I’d take him out for dinner.

He was so excited.

“Where are we going, Daddy?”

I put my hands on my hips and asked, “Do you like Mexican food?”

“Yum!” He grabbed his scarf, and I helped him put it on.

He loved the place I took him to. It had waterfalls and koi ponds. He ran around looking at all of it.

The menu had a kid’s section and he insisted on ordering from it. The waiter didn’t seem to mind that my date ordered a bean burrito with extra cheese, please, and chicken nuggets.

He devoured a lot of chips and salsa, too, along with the side of guacamole I ordered.

“Don’t ruin your appetite,” I warned.

He pulled his hands back from the table. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“I didn’t mean you couldn’t eat it all. I just thought you might’ve forgotten that more food is coming.”

“I love guacamole, Daddy.”

I pushed the bowl closer to him. “Have as much as you want, baby boy.”

It was fun measuring him up, learning his quirks and boundaries. The parameters in a daddy/boy or daddy/little relationship were different for everyone. Each person—each couple—found their way step by step. Like we were doing.

It was going beautifully.

There were times during dinner that Kit wavered between adult and little. He was getting to know me, too, and he wanted to talk about big boy things as well. My job. My favorite movies. My history of being a daddy. And my feelings.

He was a bright boy, sensitive and curious. It was a change from the self-centered boys I’d been with in the past.

When we got home, we watched TV together.

“Cartoons?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’m in the mood for a movie, Daddy. Cartoons are more for the daytime.”

One more thing to note.

“You pick, Daddy.”

It turned out he liked action movies like me. Our compatibility was growing.