Chapter 5
Chapter Five
LANDON
It’s been three days since Poppy and Mrs. B started caring for the boys, and it looks like the Christmas fairy has vomited all through my house.
There are paper chains hanging up, drawings taped to walls, Santas and reindeers made from toilet rolls on shelves, and containers of Christmas cookies in the kitchen. According to Poppy, I don’t ooze enough Christmas spirit, so she and the boys are determined to smother me in it.
The days have fallen into a good rhythm, and I’m not surprised, the way the boys absolutely adore Poppy.
She is like her mother; kind, caring and willing to give them all the female attention they crave.
I’m also craving all sorts of attention from Poppy, but so far, I’ve managed to keep some distance between us.
But it almost kills me when I arrive home at night to find her curled up on my couch, wrapped in one of Nash’s blankets that he insists she use.
She has given up layering clothes over top of her pajamas when she comes over, and instead, just throws on a big overcoat as she moves between the houses.
So, every night I’m treated to different Christmas pajama sets that reveal more than I should see of my kids’ temporary nanny.
Especially last night when I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra, and by the time I came home, a couple of the buttons on her sleep shirt had come undone.
I don’t know if she was just cold, or if it was from whatever she was dreaming about, but her nipples were hard underneath her shirt that was puckering around them, and I couldn’t look away.
She gave me not only an eyeful of cleavage, but a glimpse of a tattoo above her left breast. I couldn’t see enough to make out what it was, but there is something hot about her having a hidden story to tell.
I might have managed to pull back from her, but this new arrangement has done nothing to tamp down the lust and desire raging inside of me.
I’ve spent the last few nights jerking off in the shower after she leaves my house and heads home to bed.
I imagine what she must look like under those pajamas, how she would taste on my tongue, and the feel of her skin under my fingers as I explore her—her tight little pussy pulsing around me as I fuck the orgasm out of her.
And that’s the point in my fantasy when I moan her name as I come all over my shower floor.
In that moment, in my mind it’s just her and me, and a joy I haven’t felt in a long time.
But by the time I’ve dried myself and climbed into bed, the guilt has filtered back into my thoughts again.
Lucinda’s parents have repeatedly told me that she would want me to move on, but I just don’t know how to do that without leaving the memories of our life behind.
My mind might be stuck and unable to move on, but I’m starting to understand that my body is ready and getting more impatient by the day.
Having a temptress living next door will do that to a guy.
Hearing the knock on the front door, I know it will be Poppy, just in time for me to leave for work at four o’clock.
But the moment I open the front door, I get more than I bargained for.
Poppy is standing on the doorstep wearing a gingerbread-man onesie and carrying a bag that has the same material spilling out of the top.
I can’t do anything other than shake my head and start to laugh. A phenomenon I thought I had lost.
“You look ridiculous,” I comment, stepping aside for her to enter and get out of the freezing temperature.
“Don’t be mean, Landon. I’m getting into the spirit of the fifth day of Christmas.
It’s Bertrum tradition to decorate gingerbread houses tonight.
Consider yourself lucky that you are working, otherwise I would’ve made you wear a onesie too.
But don’t worry, I’ve got the boys covered.
” She pulls two little onesies from out of her bag, presenting me with smaller versions of the one she is wearing, and stands in front of me looking so proud of herself.
She has the most beautiful, relaxed smile on her face, yet all I can think about is what she has on under that outfit, and if she would taste as sweet as the gumdrop buttons on her chest.
Feeling my cock starting to firm up, I know I need to stop these thoughts from going any further before I have a problem.
“Poppy!” Kade calls from the back of the house as he runs down the hallway and launches himself into her arms. “You look so cool.” This makes Poppy giggle as she hugs him and lowers him back down to the floor.
“See, your son gets it,” she says, poking her tongue out at me. “Look, I got one for you and one for Nash. Go and put them on so we can head back over to Mrs. B’s place and decorate some gingerbread houses before eating a scrumptious dinner.”
“Yes, candy!” he screeches as he takes off to find his brother.
“Good luck with that. And take my advice, limit how much sugar you give Kade, otherwise you will pay the consequences.” I walk to the kitchen and grab my phone and keys, while Poppy follows closely behind.
“Oh, come on, Landon, it’s Christmas time. What’s a bit of sugar between friends.” And that’s when I remember she doesn’t have kids, so she has no idea how insane that concept is when dealing with a four- and six-year-old.
“Okay, well, don’t complain that you weren’t warned.” Slipping my wallet into my pants pocket, I reach for my suit jacket that’s hanging on the high-back stool at the kitchen counter.
“Do you wear black every night?” Poppy is checking me out from head to toe, lingering a little too long on my crotch, which isn’t helping to keep my already half-hard cock down.
“Yes, why?” I’m confused at her question.
“Try a bit of color, Landon, spice it up a bit.” And the spark in those blue eyes tells me she’s not just talking about my clothes.
“Black hides a multitude of sins.” I smirk as I walk past her and toward the boys’ bedrooms to say goodbye.
“Oh, I’m sure what’s under there is wickedly sinful,” she mumbles under her breath.
And I can’t help but chuckle out loud to myself, because it sounds like I’m not the only one who is living in a world of pain and denial.
Although, can it really be classified as denial, when her flirting game is so strong that every night I dream about fucking her?
If we last until the end of next week without fucking, it will be a Christmas miracle.
I finish stacking the dishwasher and turn it on, then wipe down the bar while John escorts the last customer out the front door. The music is turned down, and the lights have been brought back up to illuminate the room as we fall into our closing routine.
Tonight I had a full staff back on board, allowing me five minutes to FaceTime the boys from my office so they could show me their decorated gingerbread houses.
Nash’s house was extremely neat, and much better than I was expecting, but he accidentally let it slip that Mrs. B was helping him, which meant poor Poppy was stuck with Kade.
And the moment Kade got on the call and I saw his house, I found myself desperately trying to hold back my laughter.
Of course, there was a long-winded story that went along with showing me his house, which made no sense to anyone except him, but that’s okay. And while Nash’s onesie was still clean, Kade looked as though he was not only decorating his house, but himself too.
Poor Mrs. B, the clean-up from that must have been horrendous.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow’s sixth day of Christmas?” Charlene asks me as she starts dragging the garbage cans out from underneath the bar. “Because after those photos you showed me of the gingerbread houses, I think I want to stay at your neighbors’ house too.”
Ever since I came home on Monday to find the spirit of Christmas had exploded throughout my house, I have been telling Charlene about the twelve days of Christmas Poppy style.
“Tomorrow she makes cookies for one of the soup kitchens in town to hand out on Christmas Day. I think it’s great for the boys to learn ways to give back to the community.
They might not fully understand how lucky they are, but charity is a good lesson to learn.
” I take the can from Charlene and push it toward the storage room that leads out to the back of the bar where the bins are located.
“Hmm, you say it like they haven’t been learning that from you already.
The man who donates money and food to a women’s shelter every month, not to mention the extra money you always give to toy drives this time of year.
You might try to stay anonymous, but I know you, Landon.
And when your boys are old enough, I’ll make sure they know what a good guy their father is too.
” She might be the same age as me, but Charlene feels like my mother half the time.
She is full of wisdom and insights that I’m reluctant to hear, but that’s usually because she’s right.
And I’m a stubborn-ass man who hates being told what to do.
“Whatever,” I remark and take the till trays to my office to start counting the takings for the night.
Charlene might know that I donate money to a shelter, but she has no idea why, and I’d like to keep it that way.
My past is messy and full of dark memories that I chose to bury a long time ago, but it doesn’t mean I will ever forget where I came from.
When I’m back in my office, I sit down at my desk and pull up a photo that Poppy sent me tonight.
It’s of Nash and Kade dressed in their little onesies, standing in front of their gingerbread houses and looking proud as punch at what they have created.
The smiles on their faces are the biggest I’ve seen since their mother died, and I know that’s all because of Poppy.
But while I’m grateful for all her help, it makes me worry how the boys are going to cope when she leaves.