Page 10 of Enduring Christmas

"Dinner's ready," he said fifteen minutes later, setting the last platter on a table for three.

"Daddy, if I eat all my food, can I see Miss X-n-o-bia'sHelp me, Lord, she has a tattoo there, too?"

Luke's fork froze in mid-air while Xenobia's slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

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XENOBIAalmost laughed at Luke's obvious embarrassment. Served him right. But, as she forked up another mouthful of his pancake, the man’s culinary skills almost made up for the comment. She decided to let him off the hook. Her tattoos, especially the one covering her heart before heading down to her generous chest had held her husband’s attention, too. She appreciated that Luke liked her figure and that he’d told her the truth. So, he’d seen her body. And wouldn’t it be something if she came up with an excuse to see his?

"Luke, your pancakes are excellent," she said, taking her mind off his hard body and tattoo placement. It surprised Xenobia how much fun she was having at the table listening to Luke and Shiloh go back and forth about hair bows, gifts for Meow, and Christmas Day.

"My daddy makes the best pancakes ever."

"Thanks, Pumpkin. But the credit goes to Ms. Ivy. It's her recipe."

Xenobia had heard the story of Ivy Summers, now Ivy Tate. She'd hitchhiked into town, forced her way in Owen's bar and won his heart with sweet potato muffins.

Xenobia took another swallow of her juice and then bit into a syrupy pancake. "Your daughter's right," she said around a mouthful of sweet warm bread, "you've perfected the recipe."

Luke reared back in his chair. It's nice to have two pretty girls complimenting me in one night. I'll have to make pancakes more often."

"What do you do at the university?"

"It ain't cooking, that's for sure. I'm the facilities supervisor. A glorified maintenance man trying to keep a one-hundred-acre campus running seamlessly."

Xenobia reached out and stroked his beard. "Try not to get syrup all over you," she grinned.

Luke stiffened beneath her touch. There was no way for him to misinterpret her signal

She twisted up her lips. "What?"

"You touched my beard."

"Yeah, and?" she questioned, oblivious to how one touch had taken his mind from food, to a hunger of a different kind.

"Oh," Luke leaned forwarded his mouth close to her ear, "you have to know that's an audition."

"Yeah," Shiloh cheered, blind to the sparks flying between the adults at the table. "Can we have pancakes tomorrow night, daddy?"

"I don't know if Miss Xenobia would like that. I think we'll have to come up with something else, Pumpkin."

"Luke," Xenobia said his name, exasperation flavoring every syllable. "Auditioning for what?"

"Mrs. Luke Cole," he said flatly.

The skin at the corner of her eyes, creased. "You’re joking, right?"

"Touch the beard and you've brought the bull, X. Everybody knows that."

"Well, I don't," she said nibbling her last piece of bacon.

"You do now," he got up, taking their empty plates to the sink.

Shiloh still fixated on tomorrow's night pancakes continued with her uninterrupted train of thought, while Xenobia had completely derailed. Could the thought of them together be that off-putting?

"Oh," the little girl sulked. "But what if I wanted pancakes as one of my Christmas presents?"

Luke gave his daughter a doubtful look. "All right now, Pumpkin. I doubt very seriously if you want to trade a stack of pancakes for one of Santa's gifts."