Page 19 of Little Treat

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It was all systems go in the house. Dinner was ready, places at the table were set. My father was complaining about my sister not being here, and my mom was telling him that all the kids would eventually flee the nest. I couldn’t wait to leave, and now I might be able to leave for the arms of a man who lived... I don’t know, distances confused me, all I needed was a length of time. Two and half hours. It was doable to visit him for a long weekend, right?

At the door, Logan stood with a large plastic bag slung over his shoulder. There was a morphed and misshapen Santa face on it, and he was dotted with snowflakes. We stood there for a moment, staring at each other. I was in a pair of sweats and one of my oversized T-shirts that was drowning me.

“Are you going to let me in?”

I shook my head.

He cocked a brow. “You know that’s one spank,” he offered in a low whispering growl.

“I best saynoagain, then, to make it even.”

“That’s right, you know I like it evenly spread.”

We shouldn’t have been flirting at the front door like this, or right now. I giggled and leaned in, giving him a kiss. He pulledthe bag up on his shoulder a little more and then asked again. I didn’t want to make it three spanks—or did I?

“I brought presents,” he said. “For everyone.”

“Everyone?” My eyes narrowed. “They shouldallbe for me.”

Daddy shook his head and shivered, amplifying the shake. “Nu-uh.”

My mom called me from upstairs, telling me to stop letting all the heat out, and it was at that point I made room for Logan. It wasn’t like I wanted him to overpower me, bulldoze right through me, and just take control. He did that, softly sometimes, but right now I think he was more catering to this place being my parents’ house.

My mom greeted us at the top of the stairs with her over-the-top “Merry Christmas,” and Logan repeated it with just as much enthusiasm.She’d done her hair up into her tamed curls—a feat I was never able to manage because my hair was growing out a little, very thick and very unruly, much like myself. She was, as promised, doused in her new perfume, which Logan complimented immediately, and my mom was putty in his hands.

“I brought you and Mr. Cooper gifts,” he announced as my mom direct him to the coatrack and snow-boot caddy.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

“Yeah, you could’ve just bought them for me,” I said.

“Jamie, don’t be rude to your guest,” my mom said.

“It’s okay,” Logan said as he got out of his coat. “I think it’s part of his charm.”

My mom giggled, and I wondered if that was how I sounded.

In the dining room, my father was standing behind his chair at the head of the table. He’d been sitting at it before I went to answer the door. He looked me up and down, shakinghis head when I walked through with Logan. “Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sweatpants because of the stretch, and an old Goodwill T-shirt because I’ll probably make a mess.” There was absolutely no arguing with my reasoning.

“Fine, I guess,” he said. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Pierce.”

“Logan is just fine,” he said, carrying the bag through, dragging it slightly on the floor.

“I think I’ll stick with Mr. Pierce. I’ve seen you on the TV, so you’ll be addressed with respect,” he said.

My eyes couldn’t roll any further back. “Dad, you know you can tone it down.”

Logan came in before I could begin an argument with my dad—and Christmas wouldn’t be complete with an argument. My only hope was that it wasn’t me who ended up in my bedroom crying this year.The gifts were swiftly handed outto my parents, and there were some left in the bag. “Sorry, I didn’t get anything for you, Peter,” he said to my brother who was lurking in the corner waiting for an argument.

My father was silenced when he opened his gift. An expensive bottle of scotch—much more expensive than the one I’d bought him. Aged a whole bunch or something. I was too busy whacking Logan’s arm asking him how much he spent. He’d bought my mom a bottle of champagne too—she was happy about it. Something about it being more expensive than the one they’d served at her wedding.

“And what about me?” I asked.

There was clearly something in Logan that didn’t want to touch me. He was doing his best not to grab me and kiss me, so there had to be, otherwise why hadn’t he done so yet?