"Chocolate milk at lunchtime."
I laughed. "You do love having a chocolate milk mustache. Was there something else?"
His forehead wrinkled so adorably I just had to kiss it.
"Well . . . we got to play with the big parachute in gym. Don't you think it'd be awesome to jump out of an airplane with a parachute?"
"Not awesome at all. I'd never do anything like that."
"Someday I'm gonna do it. I'll spin and do backflips in the air over and over until I'm dizzy and float down through the clouds like a rainbow snowflake."
"Hmm. When you put it that way, I might consider it. When you're a grown man of thirty. All right, future daredevil parachutist, let's get you tucked in."
"Do I have to go to bed? Can't I stay up a little longer?"
"Nope. Tomorrow's your busy day. You've gotta be rested up because Grammy and Pop-pop are picking you up for the weekend, remember?"
I clicked on his nightlight and kissed his forehead. "Good night, sweetheart. I love you."
"Love you too, Mommy."
The one thing that I'd been blessed with was that Calder had been a good sleeper from the first day I'd brought him home from the hospital. Sure, he'd had his fussy times, but nothing like the horror stories I'd heard from other moms.
I cracked my laptop to double-check the tryout schedule. Working weekends was part of the gig in college athletics, but luckily, it wasn't every weekend. I'd just settled in when I heard three soft raps on my door.
Gee. I wonder who that could be.
He'd knocked softly enough that I could ignore it. He had no way of knowing that I hadn't already crawled in bed for the night-I glanced at the time on my computer-at nine o'clock.
That was almost worse, him believing I went to bed the same time as my six-year-old son. I crossed to the door to peer through the peephole. Even the fisheye view didn't distort his attractiveness.
Why was he here? I opened the door and held my finger to my lips. "Calder is asleep."
"That's why I waited. I thought it'd be better if we talked alone."
"Talked about what?"
For a moment, his confidence faltered. His gaze scoured my face as if he were trying to commit every feature to memory.
I bristled at his scrutiny. "What did you want to talk about, Lund?"
His sheepish smile brought out his dimples.
In addition to his slamming body and his stunning looks, he had darling dimples? So not freakin' fair.
"Maybe talk was a bad word choice. I want to apologize"-he reached behind his back and pulled out a stuffed animal-"for being the world's biggest jackass."
He held out a donkey with its head cranked around to stare balefully at the word EM-BARE-ASSED spelled out across its ample backside.
I laughed-I couldn't help it. This was so not what I'd expected from him.
Jensen took a step closer, dangling the donkey as a peace offering. "Rowan. I'm sorry."
A door slammed down the hallway. I preferred our conversation wasn't grist to fuel the Snow Village gossip mill, so I grabbed his wrist and said, "Come in, but keep your voice down."
"Thank you."
After shutting the door, I turned to see him settling on the couch.
That was presumptuous. Or was it a habit from when Martin lived here?
Jensen placed the donkey on the coffee table.
"Where did you find that?"
"There's an All Apologies store in Roseville. Anything you need to apologize for, or ask forgiveness for, they have something to fit the occasion."
"I've never heard of it."
"I hadn't either but it popped up on my Google search. So I checked it out."
"What else did you find besides a stuffed jackass?"
He leaned closer, resting his forearms on his knees. "All sorts of shit I couldn't believe. Like a box of chocolates with a card that said, ‘Sorry I fucked your sister.'"
"Get. Out."
"Swear to god that's what it said." He paused. "As I was debating whether to take a picture of it, the clerk came over to warn me that was the last one and they had a hard time keeping that item in stock."
I laughed. Then I clapped my hand over my mouth because it shouldn't be funny.
Jensen smiled. "I know, right? The place was a freakin' trainwreck but I couldn't look away. But that wasn't even the worst thing they had that a guy needed to offer an apology for."
"Now you have to tell me what could possibly be worse-yet somehow a man believes is actually forgivable."
"A card that said, ‘You lured me in from the moment we met . . .' on the front and then the inside read, ‘and I'm sorry I missed the birth of our child while I was on my annual fishing trip with the guys.'"