57 - It's All Fun and Games

“It has nothing to do with Jon.”  The woman he presumed was Sheridan’s mother slanted her eyes at him briefly, apology shining in their depths.  “It has to do with protecting your heart until you’re sure.”

“She’s right,” Jon concurred, ruefully tilting up the left side of his mouth.  “As most mothers tend to be.”

Sheridan’s curtain of blonde waves shook along with her head as she rolled her eyes.  Taking the wine from him she greeted him with a soft kiss on the cheek.  “Hi.  Sorry about that.  Jon, this is my mother, Pam Norris.  Mom, this is Jon.”

“Hello, Jon.  Please accept my apology, too,” the older woman who bore facial features reminiscent of both daughters requested as she flicked a stove knob.  The over-sized bubbling pot instantly went from a full boil to a simmer.  “That could have been an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

Jon’s hand settled in at the small of Sheridan’s back after he brushed her cheek with a return kiss.  “No apology necessary for sound maternal advice,” he assured her with a wide grin.  “My mother taught me that.”

Pam laughed and turned back to her dinner preparations.  “Cole, tell Riley to come and help by mashing the potatoes.  Tell everyone else to get themselves to the dinner table.” 

While the rest of the family, whom he’d been introduced to in the living room, filed in to the large country-style table, Sheridan pulled him to the side.  “I really am sorry,” she murmured, resting a light hand on his chest.

“Don’t be.  My mom told me something very similar today.”  

“Johnny, honey, you’re feeling a little adrift.  It’s understandable, considering how long you and Dorothea were together, but don’t be in a rush to find a security blanket.  Enjoy being commitment-free for a while.  The last thing you need is another responsibility.”

“Mom, she’s not a responsibility.”

“Maybe not now, but when real life sneaks into the bedroom…  It’s just another weight on your shoulders.”

Having Sheridan hear that would’ve been much more embarrassing to him than what he’d just stumbled into.

Knowing he would never be sharing that particular dose of motherly wisdom, Jon switched trains of thought.  He reached up to finger the leopard-print scarf that he’d given her for her birthday.  It was looped closely around her neck, beneath the collar of her shirt, and he smiled knowingly.  She was camouflaging last night’s souvenirs.  “Nice scarf.”

“If you don’t keep your Dracula tendencies under control, I’m going to need a lot more of these.”

Her words were bitten out quietly, but the glint of humor in her eyes and the slight blush assured Jon she wasn’t all that upset about his newfound oral fixation. 

“I’ll get Jeri on that first thing in the morning.”

The hand that was resting so tenderly against his chest pushed his shoulder back with a laugh.  “God, you’re awful.”

With that, she grabbed onto his hand and led him to the table, where her family members had already begun passing around serving dishes that were heaped with food.   His still-full stomach groaned in protest, but he put on his game face, slid into the chair beside his girl and accepted the mashed potatoes with a smile.

Dinner was very similar to the holiday festivities at his parents’ house.  Everyone talked at once, the kids happily squabbled with one another, there was lots of laughter and affection was evident even when they disagreed.  It almost held a Norman Rockwell quality.

Between answering the family questions that he was peppered with, he learned that Sheridan’s father and brother were both lawyers and Riley’s husband – Mitch? – was a stockbroker.  Jon toyed with the idea of letting him pitch some investment recommendations. 

Down the road, maybe.

It was nice that Riley had gotten past that star struck stage, because having your girlfriend’s sister ogling you like a piece of meat was awkward.   He’d only caught her staring at him a couple of times, but Cole’s wife wasn’t quite past the novelty.  Jon couldn’t help but laugh to himself when she jabbed Cole in the ribs for trying to get her attention.

And Sheridan’s niece…  Jesus H. Christ she was a ballsy little thing – just like her aunt.

“So, Mr. Bongiovi, why didn’t you let Jesse come with you?” the perky little blonde asked with a piranha-esque smile.  “He said he asked and you said no. He would have been welcome to come.   Wouldn’t he, Nana?”

“Mandi!”

Jon dipped his chin, smothering a smile as he waved away Riley’s outrage at her daughter’s bluntness.  Resting his forearms on the heavy maple table that made the oversized eat-in kitchen feel homey with its honeyed warmth, Jon met the teenager’s gaze. 

“I appreciate the hospitality, but Jesse had already made plans to spend the night with a friend.  At our house you don’t cancel a commitment just because something better comes along.”

“Oh.”  Wide eyes that leaned more toward brown than the green of her female relatives fell to her plate. 

“But…”  Jon held up a single finger and winked conspiratorially.  “We did discuss the possibility of having a New Year’s Eve party.  I think he might’ve said something about inviting you.”

“Hey!” her sister interjected with a glare.  “You can’t do that.  It’s tradition that we all go stay with Aunt Sheri on New Year’s Eve!”

Mandi rolled her eyes.  “Ashley, you’re too young to understand, but sometimes your priorities change.”

“Oh puh-leeze!  You’re only a year older than me!”

Jon put a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter that threated to spill out.  These two spirited young women made him appreciate his daughter  - more specifically, his only daughter.  God knew what He was doing by predominantly filling the Bongiovi house with boys.  Jon would lose his mind in the midst of multiple teen girl drama.

“Girls.  That’s enough.”  Mitch Mason didn’t need to raise his deep bass voice to put an end to his daughters’ bickering.  The single word had both their mouths snapping shut, even though Mandi  snuck an eye-roll in there as a silent last word.  “Mandi hasn’t even been invited yet, and if she is your mother and I haven’t agreed to let her go.  No offense, Jon.”

“None taken.” 

It had never been Jon’s intention to piss one sister off by appeasing the other.  He was off to an out-fucking-standing start with Sheridan’s family.  With the next breath, a glimmer of brilliance distracted him from his own ass-kicking.  What if he could appease both of them at the same time?

In any successful merger, there is compromise.  Business 101.

He put his open palm on Sheridan’s thigh and leaned close, the soft, citrusy tendrils tickling his nose as he whispered, “Wanna chaperone a party with me?  That way you can still spend New Year’s with your nieces – and me.”

“It’s not just the nieces,” she whispered back, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth.  “It’s the boys and Madison, too.”

Two… four… five of hers, then his three boys and maybe Stephanie.  And whomever else Jesse got the wild hair to invite.  His condo was going to be overrun with hyperactivity and hormones.  What the hell had he been thinking?

That you want to make your boy happy and spend New Year’s with your girl.  How much trouble can a few extra kids be?

He shrugged, still keeping his voice low.  “So? The younger kids are all about the same age.  I’ve got two living rooms.  We can put the teenagers on the second floor while we entertain the little kids downstairs.  Jake and Romeo would love having partners-in-crime. ” Squeezing the thigh that was still under his grasp, he dangled what he hoped was the most enticing carrot.  “And this way, I get to kiss you at midnight.”

The rest of the table was totally unaware of their exchange as conversation continued to chatter around them.   Ducking her chin into her chest, the dancing green iris gleamed wickedly at him from the corner of her eye.  “Hm.  I have to admit that makes it a little tempting.”

“Kitten,” he rumbled, lips tickling the shell of her ear as he pressed close so that no one could overhear.  “Don’t make me turn your bratty ass over my knee in front of your Mama and Daddy.”

Pulling away with a haughtily lifted eyebrow, she was full of piss and vinegar when inviting him, “Try it, big boy, and see how far you get.”

Sheridan King was one of the devil’s minions.  He was sure of it.

And she delighted him beyond all reason.

§§§

“I’m in Hell,” Jon muttered under his breath as he scrubbed a hand down his face.  The poor man looked positively miserable.

“Oh, stop!  This is what we do on Christmas.  It’s fun!”

“Like a fuckin’ root canal.”

Sheridan had come to the conclusion that she harbored sadistic tendencies.  There was no other plausible explanation for why she wanted to giggle at Jon’s painful squirming on the loveseat beside her.  Who would’ve guessed that he despised board and party games?  Considering how antsy he was now, as Mandi and Ashley made preparations, he particularly loathed charades.

“You’ve got four kids.  How can you not like to play games?”

“I don’t like to play games because I’ve got four kids and I suck at this shit.”

The giggle started to slip away from her, but she held it to a soft snort in her best effort not to ‘poke the bear’.  He was pretty cute when he was being surly.  Even cuter when he smiled through it so that her family wouldn’t know he was dying a thousand deaths as Riley acted out the song she’d drawn from the hat  – “Wanted Dead or Alive”. 

The pained groan was so soft she would’ve missed it if he hadn’t followed it up with a scarcely audible, “Oh for chrissake.”

It must have been one kindred spirit seeking another when her father paused by the loveseat on his way to the bar.  “Jon, care to join me for a drink?  These girls get a bit cutthroat over charades in my humble opinion,” he confided.

Jon practically leapt to his feet, barely escaping Ashley’s evil clutches as she brought him the hat for his turn. 

“Daddy,” Sheridan admonished with a cluck of her tongue.  “Cole and Mitch are playing, too.”

“So they are.  C’mon, Jon.  Let’s christen that bottle of Scotch you were kind enough to bring.”

She chuckled at the two of them as they escaped to commiserate.  Her father had never been much of a game person either, but he had always purposed that it kept the family close.  For that reason alone, he willingly submitted himself to the tradition – for about an hour.  Then he slipped away to the bar and watched them all carry on without him, a sappy smile on his face.

A few minutes later, when she thought to slide her attention that way and check on them, Sheridan was punched with a pleasant surprise.   Her dad was chattering away about something – probably the society’s bastardization of the American dream, if history was any indicator – and Jon was nodding his agreement.  While he was clearly listening to everything her father said, his eyes were glued to her.

 And his mouth?  Well, it was wearing the Bongiovi version of her daddy’s sappy smile.

Blinking away the irrational sentimentality that misted in her eyes, Sheridan returned his smile and fondly stroked the bracelet at her wrist without breaking visual contact.  This had been a good Christmas.

A very good Christmas.