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Ororo’s afternoon:

“Warren Worthington Center Human Resources, this is Kate?” Her voice was relatively young from what Ororo could tell at her first impression. Her accent marked her as someone who hailed from Chicago.

“Good morning, Kate, I was referred to you by one of my contacts over at the Alternatives shelter, she gave me your business card. My name’s Ororo Munroe.” Ororo twirled the phone cord around her finger. “I handle event and project coordination for the network,” she qualified.

“Oh. OHHHHH! Right, right. Now I remember, Betsy DID tell me about you!” The knot of tension in Ororo’s stomach eased a bit as Kate’s voice brightened a little with recognition. “And she told me some really good things.”

“That’s a relief,” Ororo grinned, and their chuckles mingled in preamble to the real reason she was calling. “A little bird told me you were looking for another grant writer.”

“Ahhh. Let me just pull that requisition number up online a sec…” Ororo heard furious keyboard clicks on the other end of the line and muffled curses (“stupid thing, slow as freakin’ molasses, piece of…”) before she received a whooping “Here we go!”

“Is this something I could apply for online?”

“You could. And it would likely go through Internet limbo and ten rings of Hell before it reached my desk among the hundreds of other applicants, I get more hits in my inbox than I can count everyday, and sifting through them is a real ball…sure you don’t wanna just apply for the job of administering the inbox?”

“It sounds almost as grueling as what I’m doing now,” Ororo deadpanned.

“More.” She stifled a giggle at Kate’s tone and honesty, especially at the use of the phrase “ten rings of Hell.” Ah, the joys of working for the city…

“How long until the job posting closes?”

“Until it’s filled. I’d love to have the luxury of saying ‘until I say uncle’ but it doesn’t work that way.” Ororo could picture her holding up her palms in surrender and helplessness. “As for applying online…you could just float me your resume via email or fax, if you were so inclined?”

“Am I so inclined? Let me grab my pen, what’s your email?” She dove for her pen cup and grabbed her best amethyst purple Pental comfort grip pen and her Post its.

“Katherine-underscore-em-underscore-Pryde-at-Worthington-dot-org,” she intoned clearly, letting Ororo’s writing hand get caught up. “Just like the homepage. And I’m Kate. Never really been one for Kathy.”

“Ever been called Kitty?”

“Not by anyone who’s escaped with their life!”

“Understood! Say no more! And I’ll be emailing you a resume as an attachment.”

“Pop the job title and req number into the subject line, just to preserve some modicum of my sanity, and we’ll call it good,” Kate promised. “Toss in some of the usual mundane stuff like salary history, too, just for laughs. Makes it easier when I hand it off to the manager, which I have the feeling I’ll be doing. Betsy’s really raved about you.”

“She’s sung me many of your praises, too; I hope we’ll get to talk again soon.”

“Have a great day, Ororo.” She returned the well-wishing with a lighter heart as she hung up and went back to her project Gantt charts and PowerPoint slides. Nothing like a little schmoozing with human resources through sly networking at the back door to raise your spirits.

Anna Marie’s voice hopping out at her from her intercom startled her from arranging her tasks and completion dates. “Crap! Don’t do that again!”

“Sorry, girl, just wanted t’let ya know that your cousin’s out front.”

“Kenyatta?” Ororo peered at her wall clock in disbelief. “It’s early, I wasn’t expecting her to go to lunch with me today.”

“That ain’t what’s she’s saying,” Anna argued. Her voice was matter-of-fact about it all, and Ororo sighed gustily. She’d better not be asking me for money, so help me, Lord…it’s right before Christmas, for cryin’ out loud! “She’s right by my desk, arms folded and tapping her foot, so ya better hustle, shoog!” Ororo chuckled this time.

“I’ll get out there as fast as my birdy legs will carry me,” she simpered before hitting the off button on her intercom and rising from her desk. She heard her joints click in complaint as she strode out of her office. Scott’s voice around his cubicle wall halted her progress.

“Ororo?” She saw his chestnut-haired head pop out around the edge, still holding his phone against his opposite ear before he told whoever was on the other end that he had to go. She waited for him to cradle the receiver before she paused by his chair, grinning at the stressed out look he was sporting: loosened tie, hair disheveled like he had been running his hands through it, grooves around his mouth from grimacing, and that “Just shoot me and put me out of my misery!” look that he always seemed to get at this time of year. The first of the year brought about more frequent demands for numbers to be crunched, budgets to be drafted, and reports to be run, and fewer people to do it all as people made their holiday plans. “You look happy. There’s nothing in the employee handbook about looking happy. We’ve got a one-whiff policy for improper workplace conduct, Munroe.”

“Whistle blower,” she accused, grabbing his coffee mug and hitting the prompt on his keyboard for his screensaver to come on. “Coffee. You know you want to.”

“Twist my arm a little further.”

“You’re about to collapse, and I can see spreadsheet cells burned into your eyeballs.”

“Coming!” he sang, his usual baritone rising to an almost simpering tenor to rival the one she’d given Anna a few moments ago. Ororo snorted her approval.

“Hey, you snorted.” She giggled and snorted again.

“Did it again.”

“Quit it! Or I’ll report your one whiff for enjoying yourself here at my expense.” Scott shot her his best innocent look as she handed him his Dilbert mug and ushered him into the hall.

“I need your feminine intuition and chick expertise.”

“There just so happens to be a sale on that today. What’s on your mind?”

“You mean what little of it that’s left. I’ve gotta come up with a Christmas gift that doesn’t suck.”

“Mother? Grandmother? Sister? High maintenance girlfriend?” Ororo ticked off the possibilities, and Scott shot her a disgusted look at the last one.

“Jeannie’s not high maintenance.” A beat later. “Not THAT high maintenance. She’s really sweet.”

“Jeannie?” Ororo raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Sounds suspiciously like a pet name, Summers.”

“Big deal. It’s not like I’m running around calling her Cookiepuss,” he pointed out.

“You realize, of course, that you’re an educated, grown man with a demanding professional occupation, and the word Cookiepuss just slipped past your lips, right?”

“You, of course, realize I’m perfectly willing to use certain photos from a certain Halloween charity ball of a certain event planner wearing a perfectly scandalous costume as blackmail. Or at the very least as a decoration on the break room fridge,” Scott suggested pleasantly, treating her to a shit-eating grin. Ororo took the hint, holding her hands up in surrender. Ororo rattled off a few ideas for gifts as they grabbed their coffee fix, then left Scott to meet Kenyatta in the lobby.

“What’s up, cuz!” Kenyatta was smiling like she had just run off with the last chocolate chip cookie.

“What’s up with you? We weren’t doing anything today, were we? Unless I’m just having a brain fade,” Ororo suggested. “I wasn’t gonna take lunch for another half hour.”

“Girl, I’m doin’ you a favor, you’re already gettin’ that evil look that says you’ve been crammed behind your desk for too long, and that you haven’t eaten anything yet. If I waved a sandwich under your nose, I’d have to count how many fingers I came back with!”

“Maybe we could just run out and I could bring something back,” Ororo muttered, peeking at the lobby clock. It was just too damned early, she had too much to do…and her stomach was growling like a grizzly.

Kenyatta’s hands leapt to her hips as she eyed Ororo’s abdomen. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. Hustle back to your desk and grab your purse. I might even treat you if you promise to help me pick out a gift for Leon.”

“Pffft. Treat me? As soon as you open up that purse, moths’ll fly out,” Ororo nodded to Kenyatta’s Prada knockoff dangling from her wrist. “And girl, you’re only the second person to ask me about what to get their sweet patootie for Christmas! Do I look like Ask Heloise?”

“You looooove me,” Kenyatta flounced, “you know you do, cuz.”

“Mmph,” Ororo grumbled. “Let me go get my dang purse…disturbing a woman at work…want to give advice on what to get YOUR man, when I ain’t even gotta man…hmmph…” Ororo’s mutterings rose and fell in volume with emphasis, trailing in her wake through the lobby as Anna and Kenyatta bust into a giggle fit.

Of course, the realization hit her like a Mack truck, what she’d said (grumbled) aloud. I ain’t even gotta man.

The words “I don’t ever wanna see hide nor hair of your sorry ass again” had never sprung from either of their lips. No questions such as “Well, is this really it?” Or Ororo’s favorite, “Baby, don’t be like that, why you bein’ so cold?” Jon had pulled that shit right before she tossed his clean laundry out onto the apartment stairs and threatened to call the building superintendent on his behind. Raven’s eyes were agog behind her reading glasses when she stepped out into the hall, catching the last of the exchange and the colorful spray of clothes fluttering over the rail as Ororo tossed them into the air.

Thoughts of Logan continued to plague her and dog her footsteps as they made their way to the mall food court and ordered hot dogs that they could carry with them. Ororo spent the next half hour nodding and shaking her head over various colognes that Kenyatta held up for her to sniff before she finally settled on Liz Claiborne for Men and a Nike jersey in a deep royal blue nylon. With a pang Ororo remembered the sleep-warmed scent of Logan’s skin, right behind his ear whenever she nuzzled his neck. They’d spoon together, tangled up in the sheets at the crack of dawn, with the early morning light chasing away the gray shadows and revealing the colors and textures of Ororo’s bedroom furnishings and knick-knacks, and Ororo would toss the flap of the comforter over them and kiss the chill from Logan’s shoulder that had settled there overnight. Logan would inevitably become aware of her warm body pressed against his back, soft, full breasts rubbing his shoulder blades, and he would feel a rush of desire at the sensation of her nipples stiffening against him, as though seeking his touch. Ororo loved that funny little half-sigh, half-moan he made to let her know he was awake, right before he’d roll over and pin her to the mattress, engulfing her.

Listening to her cousin blabber on about whether Leon was giving her a ring wasn’t exactly helping matters any…idly Ororo thumbed through the racks of men’s socks as Kenyatta paid for her purchases, looking for a pair to stuff into her cousin’s mouth. Anything to make it stop…stop it, ‘Ro. Girl was gettin’ sickening, though…

“We might go to Leon’s momma’s for New Years, he’s been sayin’ he wants to head down there, you knew she lived in Virginia Beach, right? Anyways, he keeps snooping around in my closet, asking me if I have anything nice to wear down there if we go! He thinks I’m gonna head down to his momma’s house, looking like Hope diggin’ potatoes with my hair sticking up all over my head and a thong showing over my waistband…” and she finally took a breath, stuffing her wallet back into her purse before she looped the shopping bag handles over her wrist. “What’s wit’ choo?”

“Umm,” Ororo mumbled. “Nuthin’, cuz. Carry on. Where’s this ring he’s been hinting at?” Might as well cut to the chase.

“Hell if I know. I’ve been peeking through his pockets for store receipts, went into his shoebox in the closet where he keeps his odds and ends, I checked the glove compartment, the penny jar in the cupboard, you name it. Either he’s hiding it at work, or he’s gonna let Momma glare at us at Christmas dinner some more for ‘livin’ in sin.’ Don’t know why I put up with that triflin’ somebody…”

“I could state the obvious reasons…hmmm…cock-whipped. Yup, there’s all the reason you need.”

“Don’t make snatch ya baldheaded in the middle of this fancy mall,” Kenyatta huffed under her breath, giving Ororo’s arm a warning pinch. Ororo snapped her arm with a flourish, whistling the sound of a whip flying through the air with her teeth, making Kenyatta double over with laughter. “You just wrong, girl!”

“Don’t lie. I hit the nail right on the head.” She eyed the food court stands again. “I feel like an Orange Julius.”

“I ain’t payin’ five bucks apiece for some orange foam out of a blender,” Kenyatta fussed. “Leon’s gift just broke me. Now, Miz Thang, what about you? What’s the deal? Have ya talked to your man yet?”

“Nope.” Kenyatta rolled her eyes.

“Wasn’t that you telling me how well Logan had his act together and rocked your world?”

“Uh-huh.” Ororo’s footsteps quickened a bit, but they were both working women in New York; slowly strolling along wasn’t something that either of them did on a regular basis, so Kenyatta nonchalantly kept in step with Ororo without missing a beat.

“And wasn’t that you looking all goo-goo eyed at him like you could eat him with a spoon on the ride down to your momma’s house, hanging on his every word in the car?” Ororo’s heels clop-clopped down the mall corridor, making her way toward the brightening sunlight streaming in through the exit doors in what could only be called an escape attempt.

“Mmmmm. Eh. Maybe.”

“I think it was you, cuz. Quit running away from me when I’m talkin’!” Ororo drew herself up, stopping short, and Kenyatta almost crashed into her, Prada knockoff and shopping satchel still swinging. Ororo steeled herself. “If ya love him, why you trippin’?”

“Don’t get up in my grill with this shit, Kenya,” she warned, then dove into her purse for her Altoids so she wouldn’t go back to work with hot dog breath. “I’m not trippin’, I just don’t know what to say to him right now. If I go stomping up to his front door, he could shut the door in my face, and if I show up at his work, he’ll think I’m bringing him drama.”

“Yeah, guys hate that shit,” Kenyatta grudgingly agreed. She’d almost gotten escorted out of her ex-boyfriend’s work building once, waaaaaaayyy back in the day…the reasons why didn’t even bear thinking about now, but it had been some crazy shit. Never again. “Still…he’s still your man, right? You never formally told him he wasn’t your man anymore, so what’s stopping ya from calling him back up?”

“Kenya…”

“Don’t Kenya me,” she snapped. “Tell him ‘You don’t stop being my honey til I tell ya t’stop!’ To quote Monica, go and get that man!”

“He’s not gonna want Momma to give him a hard time again.”

“Seemed to me like you already talked with her about that.” They scrambled back into Kenyatta’s little car and headed back to Alternatives, still arguing with the beats of N.E.R.D. bumping in the background. “This isn’t about Auntie N’Dare giving him a hard time. It’s all on you if you don’t tell him you want him back. Shit, you showed me that bouquet he gave you that one time. If any man did something romantic like that for me right after we got together, I’d be wearing him like a coat! Now repeat after me…”

“Repeat after you?” Ororo cocked a brow.

“…I won’t let my mother dictate my love life and let my fine ass man get away, or my cousin Kenyatta will beat me severely about the head with her purse til I come to my senses!” Ororo’s chest shook; Kenyatta snaked her head around as she parked her car.

“I don’t hear you repeating after me!”

“I won’t let my mother (hee hee hee) dictate my love life (snort) and let my fine ass man escape…”

“Get away,” Kenyatta corrected her.

“Right. Something like that. Whatever.” Ororo let herself out of the car at the curb so Kenyatta wouldn’t have to worry about the parking validation in the garage. “What you said. I gotta go.”

“You better call him. Promise?”

“Pinky swear,” she vowed, even though her stomach twisted itself in a knot.

“By the way, you’re headed to your momma’s for Christmas, right? We don’t have to ride up together since I’m gonna be in Virginia Beach for Christmas Eve, but we might go up the next day.”

“Momma wants me to sing for the nighttime service.”

“Indulge her; she’s your mother. You know how she just lights up whenever you get up there and start belting ‘em out, it’s all she can talk about. You’re going,” Kenyatta insisted, raising her “talk to the hand” palm when Ororo squinted at her.

“Errrrgh. I’m going! Sheesh. ‘Bye!”

“Get back to work,” Kenyatta huffed, then blew her a kiss as Ororo shut the car door, letting her cousin dart back into midday traffic.

Once she was a block or two away, Kenyatta reached into her Prada knockoff for her rhinestone studded cell phone and punched in her aunt’s number. She knew her cousin well enough to know how stubborn she was, and that she wouldn’t call. Kenyatta’s mother’s voice squawked at her like she’d interrupted her in the middle of something when she picked up.

“Kenyatta! Land sakes alive, baby girl, we’ve been waitin’ for ya t’call us all day! How did it go?”

“I talked her into it. She’ll be there with bells on. I’m gonna drag her to Monica’s to get her hair done the day before, I won’t tell her why.”

“That’s my baby.” As an afterthought, she mentioned “Make sure to make her pack some hair grease and buy some nylons. And Kenyatta, please don’t embarrass me to Leon’s mother by wearing something with your cleavage hanging out one end and your boomboppity hanging out the other when you go over there for dinner!”

“Hmmph. Y’all act like I don’t know how to dress, everyone’s gotta get up in my grill and fuss at me like I’m twelve…y’all must think I’m hopeless…” Kenyatta had inherited the family habit of muttering.

“Just don’t show up at the woman’s house looking like Boo or Boo’s cousin,” Ruthie suggested, and Kenyatta could hear her rolling her eyes on the other end. “Your Auntie N’Dare and I had an interesting day today.”

“Y’all can tell me about it over dinner if you promise to feed me and Leon tonight,” Kenyatta said.

After all, she’d casually forgotten to tell Ororo that her mom and her auntie were in town, making Leon have to fight for the remote control and suffer through questions about when he was going to make Kenyatta an honest woman, cut his hair and get a real job. All that aside, it was fun playing matchmaker.

Logan’s afternoon:

“Nate? Hand me that smog filter?”

“Comin’ up.” Nate stood and stretched from where he’d been leaning over the hood and handed Logan the new filter, pressing his hands into his lower back with a few pops. He handed Logan the filter, but glanced through the windowpane of the door dividing the garage from the shop for a moment. “Got comp’ny,” he murmured.

“Customers?”

“Nope. Familiar face. Lots of cleavage. Looks like she wants a tune-up.” Logan’s pulse raced for a moment as he wiped his hands on a rag and got up to see for himself.

His disappointment sat like a lead lump in his gut when he realized it was Emma Frost instead of Ororo, peering at a display of Armor All wipes. “Nate, if ya have any pity, you’ll go out there and tell her I died. Or at least ask her what she wants.”

“Hey, ya only pay me to fix things, not bullshit the customers, particularly high-maintenance women in expensive perfume. You lucky dog, you.” Nate turned back to the filter and began installing it in Logan’s stead, missing Logan’s acid glare boring into the back of his head. He grumbled curses under his breath as he swung open the door, schooling his face into a neutral look. Or at least one that didn’t promise death…

Emma’s blonde head twisted his way as though she were waiting for him, and her smile reminded him of the look a python gives its prey right before swallowing it whole. “Hello, Logan, fancy running into you here.” As if she was likely run into him anywhere else; shit, it was his shop, for cripes’ sake! His skin also itched when she used his nickname. It sounded wrong coming out of her mouth.

“What can I do for you, Emma? How’s your car running since we worked on it last?”

“Purrs like a kitten,” she gushed, and once again she stood too close, overwhelming his senses with that damned cologne. “Actually, there was something else you could help me with.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Accessories. I was wondering if you could show me something in a floor mat,” she continued, “something durable…and long-lasting. When I take someone for a ride in my car…I don’t want the poor things to get worn out too soon. I need something good-looking that can take a good beating.” Her smile widened at the way his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Any suggestions, Logan? Could you show me anything like that?” The entry chime on the front door trilled, giving him a welcome reprieve, until a deep, familiar female voice rang out in slightly accented English.

“He can’t show you anything of the sort.” Emma spun around to face a well-maintained, handsome Black woman with exotic bone structure and features, dark cornrows and a regal air that rung a bell. “He has business with me first. And I doubt you’ll find what you were looking for here, anyway, child. Not from my daughter’s boyfriend.” In case she didn’t get the message, N’Dare Munroe nodded to her and said “Goodbye, now” dismissively. Emma opened her mouth and turned to Logan as if to plead for him to argue, but Logan found the first smile he’d made all day creeping across his lips.

“You might want to try Rory Campbell’s detailing shop down the block. Tell him Jamie sent you.” He eyed N’Dare carefully. “I need to help this nice woman with something she needed from me.”

Emma’s cheeks flushed scarlet before she breezed out of the shop, her flagging temper plain. Logan didn’t watch her departure, instead meeting N’Dare’s solemn gaze.

“We need to talk.”

“You called me your daughter’s boyfriend,” he pointed out.

“Aren’t you?”

“I want to be more. A lot more. But it’s up to her.” Logan rubbed the back of his neck helplessly. “I love her. You have no goddamned idea how much I love your daughter.”

“No need to bristle at me, and there’s no reason to cuss like a sailor.”

“No, ma’am,” he agreed.

“If you have anything to change into before my sister-in-law and I take you to lunch, I suggest you change into it now.” Her tone was imperious, but Logan noticed a warmth in her black eyes that was absent during their first encounter. “Her motor’s running,” she prodded.

“I’ll be out shortly,” he promised. She gave a clipped nod and went back out the way she came. Logan shook his head at her departing back, mumbling “Hunh.” What the hell had just happened?

And what was he getting himself into? He headed back to the shop’s locker room and shrugged out of his coveralls, changing into his jeans, ribbed sweater and Ropers. He took his comb and gave his hair a lick and a promise at the sink and addressed his reflection.

“Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. You CAN’T fuck this up.” He argued with himself the rest of the way outside. I’m not the one who has to prove anything…am I? Is she here to rake me over the coals again? Did Ororo talk to her? Wasn’t I the one she gave the third degree at dinner?

He almost laughed out loud when he climbed into the back of the cranberry red Lincoln Continental and found Leon grinning at him from the other side. “S’up.”

“Hey.” He shut the door after him and bade Ruthie good afternoon. “You get kidnapped from work, too?”

“Yup.” Leon shot Logan a look that shouted “See how much of your ass you come away with from this, buddy.” He fidgeted uncomfortably in his sweater as the knap of the knit rubbed against the plush upholstery of the car. He hoped the lunch wouldn’t rub him the wrong way, too. Gradually it dawned on him that Leon’s presence also explained N’Dare and Ororo’s aunt being able to find his shop.

“What brought you into town?” Logan inquired.

“We were planning on heading up anyway,” Ruthie replied, glancing at him through the rearview mirror with a look that seemed to measure him. “We’re staying with Kenyatta this week to do some shopping.” It was a plausible reason, he supposed. He still wasn’t convinced.

They stopped at a T.G.I. Fridays and parked in a nearby garage. The air was crisp and chilly, nipping the tops of Logan’s ears and making him wish he’d worn his Stetson, but he decided that he’d look that much more out of place with his present company in his favorite hat. N’Dare wore a batiked dress under her black wool jacket, and Ruthie wore a dark red jogging suit with a “Baby Phat” logo and cross-trainers on her feet that almost looked incongruous with the gold jewelry she also had on. Leon was decked out in Nike logos from head to toe. He caught sight of the picture that they made in the windows of the restaurants as they strolled past, and his skin stood out in contrast to their darker complexions. One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just isn’t the same… The Sesame Street standard droned on in his head as they entered the front lobby and were greeted by the hostess.

The waitress no sooner took their menus and orders and moved away before N’Dare pinned Logan into his side of the booth with unabashed bluntness. “Why haven’t you called Ororo?”

“I wanted to.” He still wanted to.

“That begs the question, again, why didn’t you?” N’Dare sipped her water, and Leon spun the tiny metal carousel showing the daily specials around on its axis innocently, again giving Logan the impression that he was glad he wasn’t the one getting grilled. “The child’s absolutely miserable. When I call her to ask what’s new, I get ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I’m fine, I guess,’ which tells me she hasn’t mended fences with you yet. She never comes out and tells me when something’s wrong, because she figures I’m getting too old to handle hearing about her problems. I’m not as fragile and breakable as she thinks,” she huffed, drawing herself up in her seat. “And I’m willing to admit when I’ve done something wrong, particularly when it hurts my only child. That’s what brought us here.”

“This wasn’t just a random kidnapping?”

“Not at all. I wanted to apologize for the way I reacted to you when you came to my house.”

“Hm. Okay. So you didn’t really mean it when you lumped me in with all of the people that have ever given you and ‘Ro a hard time for being what you are?” Logan fiddled with the edge of his napkin. “I’m not the bad guy?”

N’Dare shrugged. “If you like. I meant it at the time, but I’ve had some time to think about it, and I don’t like the way I treated you. It wasn’t fair, it didn’t make me any better than the people that criticized my husband for marrying someone outside his own culture, and you didn’t deserve it. So no,” she answered, using his own words, “you’re not the bad guy.”

“I’m housebroken and I keep food on the table,” he offered. “And my family’s important to me. If she wants me back, that’ll include her family, too.”

“Take some notes, Leon,” Ruthie spat, swiveling her neck in a head trip in his direction.

“Ororo’s work is important to her. Don’t expect to just keep her barefoot, pregnant, and locked in the house. Not,” N’Dare corrected, “that I don’t want some grandbabies. One or two would be nice.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying to keep her in the house unless she wants to be there,” Logan chuckled. “My mom was a homemaker and it drove her nuts, even if she never said so in so many words until recently. I want my wife to be happy.” He wet his lips with some water. “I want Ororo to be happy.”

“Ya hear that, Leon? He wants his wife to be happy! You should be taking a page out of his book!”

“Hey, Kenya’s still speakin’ to me, I’m not the one getting the silent treatment,” Leon reminded them.

“That’s different; ya live with her, bub.”

“And you have been for two years now, with no word of an engagement at all whatsoever, boy! I want grandbabies, too, but not before there’s a ring on my baby girl’s finger!” Ruthie cut her eyes at Leon as she perused the dessert menu. “Oh, look, they have apple cobbler,” she mused.

It was all a blur after that. Logan spent the next hour nodding and chuckling between bites as N’Dare regaled him of stories about Ororo when she was little, making him roar over an incident when she was about six when she had taken her swimsuit off at the public pool when her mother had told her to “get dressed” so they could leave. Leon submitted to more of Ruthie’s interrogation about his intentions toward her daughter, and Logan sympathized with him wholeheartedly by the time he finished mopping up the ketchup on his plate with his last fry.

“I’d like you to come back for Christmas. It would be nice if you could bring your family this time, so you don’t have to split the holiday between houses.”

“I’d like that. I’ve gotta convince ‘Ro, though. It’s up ta her.”

“That might not be as hard as you think. Kenyatta’s softening her up right now,” Ruthie smiled.

“Why else d’ya think my girl’s not here, helping my momma put me in my place?” Leon chimed in.

“Ororo takes after me in one regard; she’s stubborn when she goes after something she really wants, no matter who tries to get in her way. Even when that someone is me. She pleaded her case with me after church last weekend and showed me the error of my ways,” N’Dare admitted dryly, but Logan returned her gentle smile with one of his own. “So in a way, I’m breaking my promise, which was not to open my mouth again about her relationship with you. I opened it, but just not the way she implied.” That was right about the time that Logan decided he liked his prospective mother-in-law and couldn’t wait to see what happened when she met his folks. They settled up the bill, and Logan promised to speak with N’Dare again regarding his holiday plans.

He had some unfinished business to take care of first.



Later that evening:

“It needs more tinsel on that side,” Scott nagged, craning his neck for a better look at the nine-foot artificial prelit tree in the Alternatives Network front lobby. Anna Marie was feeding Ororo more tinsel garland, handing a few inches of it at a time to Ororo, who was perched precariously on the step ladder.

“Everybody’s a critic,” Ororo muttered. Her afternoon had zipped by after lunch with her cousin. She’d gotten a call from Betsy asking her if she had applied for the job at the Worthington Center, and then ended up roped into coming by to pick up the Angel Tree names for the Christmas toy and gift drive for the shelters. The couple of hours were spent making sure the miniature trees at each site were decorated with the paper ornaments with each child’s name and wish list item on it, and that a collection box for the presents was positioned next to each. Another radio ad was placed with the local stations, a memo was sent out to the branch about the office Christmas party, and Ororo was ready to throw in the towel.

Of course that was when Anna Marie showed up, knocking at her door to see if she could help with decorating the tree in the front lobby. Scott of course called himself “supervising,” and Ororo indulged in a fantasy that involved grappling him into a headlock and giving him a nuclear noogie.

At least she was almost finished.

“Girl, I gotta meet Remy, I’m running late. Scott, can ya help ‘Ro ta finish this up, shoog?”

“Go ahead, skedaddle, kiddo. We’ve got this about wrapped up.” Scott handed Ororo some more glass ornaments and caught her elbow when her foot wobbled slightly on the step stool. Anna Marie trotted out to meet her main squeeze, waving at them both with a big grin.

“Find that gift for Jeannie?” Ororo adopted Scott’s nickname for the “least of three evils,” as she had come to dub Emma and her associates over at Inner Circle. She had seen her coppery red hair from time to time around the office and made a point of being pleasant, which fortunately wasn’t too hard; once the charity fundraiser was over, Jean acted surprisingly human. Still high maintenance, but human. Ororo supposed it didn’t hurt that Scott was one of Ororo’s best friends, and it never hurt to make nice with “the friends.”

“Got her a pretty necklace. It was either that or a lava lamp that I saw in Spencer’s. The necklace seemed like a safe bet.”

“Smart man.” Inwardly Ororo asked herself, Lava lamp? She couldn’t picture Jean having that much of a sense of humor.

“So where’s the Caped Crusader been lately? You haven’t talked much about him,” Scott observed, handing her up a plastic icicle.

“Things are complicated,” Ororo replied, hoping that he would get the message.

“Ooooh. Doesn’t sound good. It’s too soon for stuff to be ‘complicated.’ It’s only been a couple of months, you’re supposed to be in the ‘honeymoon’ phase of the relationship.”

“Guess we forgot to hang the Do Not Disturb sign. Hand me the star?” Scott unwrapped the gaudy gold aluminum star, and Ororo fiddled with it, trying to bend the top tuft of bent tree branch into an agreeable “cone” to insert into the star’s opening.

“Want me to try it?” Scott offered.

“Nah. I’ve got it,” she insisted.

“It needs to go a little to the left. No, my left.”

“Don’t you have some spreadsheets to sort?”

“Nope. Just a girlfriend to pick up for dinner. I get it, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll take this box back to the Activities Committee store room, ‘kay?”

“Okay. Get outta here, Summers. Tell Jeannie hi.”

“Will do, Catwoman!” She shot him an evil look that warped into a smirk as he left.

“Catwoman,” she snorted to herself. “Sheesh.”

In the wake of Scott’s exit, she hadn’t heard the light thud of footsteps approaching from behind.

“Do ya always mutter to yerself like that when no one’s listening?” That familiar voice startled her enough that she lost traction on the top of the ladder, and her high-heeled pump slipped out from under her as she whipped around to see Logan staring at her oddly.

“Loga…SHIT!” Whoosh! She toppled over backwards, and savagely bit her tongue as she made contact with something firm and solid. Solid, and tsking in her ear at her near brush with disaster.

“Geez,” he grumbled, “are ya all right, darlin’? Ya nearly scared me out of ten years of life. What are ya doin’ up on that damned ladder, anyway?” Warm and gentle hands righted her but didn’t let go, turning her in his grip to face him. Logan reached out to smooth a lock of hair from her lip, something he had a knack for, she realized. How did they keep ending up in these positions?

“Fixing the tree,” she answered numbly.

“I see that. Looks nice,” he acknowledged. He frowned as she lifted her hand to her lips. “Whatsamatter, darlin’?”

“I bi’ mah nung,” she explained, probing the tip of her tongue lightly. “Ouch.”

“Ouch,” he agreed. “Ororo?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss it and make it better?” He pulled her hand away from her lips and laid her palm against his chest as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.

“Logan…”

“Please.” He slid her hand up farther against him, nibbling her fingertips in entreaty. His eyes were soft and full of concern, and she wanted to drown in them. She shushed the cautious little voice in the back of her head and nodded her consent. His fingers found their way into her hair and wrapped around her nape, pulling her to him. He brushed his lips against hers sweetly, lightly sucking on her bottom lip. More feathery kisses followed before Ororo wrapped her arms around his neck and opened herself to him, letting his tongue stroke hers. The miracle of holding him, listening to his low sigh and feeling his breath steam her made her shiver and cling to him more tightly. She couldn’t get close enough, and it took generous minutes for them to come up for air.

“Better?” he inquired, stroking her hair back from her face, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“Much.” Her eyes were glistening wetly, and Logan realized she was close to a break down. “Missed you,” she sniffled.

“Missed you too.” He’d never seen anything more beautiful at that moment than that quivering smile, so close and so full of emotion. “Don’t cry,” he begged, although his own voice shook.

“I can’t help it!” She decided the best way to deal with the immediate problem was to kiss him again. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

“There’s nowhere else I wanna be,” he murmured. “Just with you. No matter what. I want you so much.” He cleaned the tear tracks along her cheeks with his lips. “I went nuts wondering how we were gonna make this right, and tryin’ ta figure out how ta fix what happened.” Her palms cupped his face, and her lips traveled over his forehead, kissing the space between his eyebrows, grazing his temples, distracting him thoroughly, but he didn’t care. He just let her do as she wished as he kept talking. “I didn’t wanna interfere and cause problems with you and yer family, baby.”

“No,” she sniffed, kissing the tip of his nose. He suppressed a smile at the gesture, but his chocolaty eyes crinkled at the corners. “I know. I was afraid I’d just make things worse. I didn’t want to fight again, not after what happened, but I wanted so much to keep you there, I wanted you to stay! It killed me when you left, when you were so hurt! I should have stuck up for you, and I never should have let you leave!” Her lips found him again, and his embrace tightened convulsively around her; she felt so good in his arms. “I should have just called you. I was stupid, Logan. I’m so sorry!”

“I know, baby, and I was a flamin’ idiot fer not gettin’ my ass in gear sooner. A stubborn, flamin’ idiot.” His hands stroked her back, then kneaded it as she kissed him deeply. He consumed her, capturing her small “mmmmmph” of contentment as he took possessive hold of her ass. Wantonly, Ororo pressed herself against him, forgetting where they were as she ground herself against him. “Damn, you taste good!” he muttered over her lips.

That was where they left off until they heard the click of Scott’s hard leather shoes against the floor tiles. They broke apart, both slightly chagrined and out of breath as Scott shot her a knowing look.

Time to hang up that Do Not Disturb sign after all, eh Monroe? Scott nodded to them on the way out the door, and saluted Ororo with a knowing grin. No sooner had the door clicked shut before Logan drew her back for another helping.

“Mmmmm. This isn’t (smooch) the best place (mmm) for this, I think…”

“Right. Right. Got it. (smooch) Don’t stop…oh, God.”

“I’m that close to dragging you back to my office and locking the door,” she threatened.

“What’re you waitin’ for, ‘Ro???” Her footsteps skipped after his as he strode back through the double doors, practically dragging a giggling Ororo behind him by the hand. As promised, Ororo locked the door and pulled the blinds over the window while Logan reached for her, pulling the hem of her blouse from her skirt. Her skin was satiny and hot under his fingers as he leaned in to kiss the tender spot on the side of her neck.

What was it that Scott had mentioned earlier about the office “one whiff” policy for improper workplace conduct? Right. Don’t get caught. Whatever it was escaped her for the moment…so, never mind. The stroke of Logan’s fingertips against her damp heat drove all sane thought from her brain as she sat on top of her desk, skirt rucked up ridiculously to allow her to wrap her legs around his hips. Ororo was impressed that he only popped one button from her blouse before he shoved it down her arms, revealing her breasts, framed to perfection by the lilac satin bra, to his heated stare. He bent his head and suckled her through the thin, slick fabric, tearing throaty moans from the depths of her soul.

“I’m sorry darlin’, this is gonna be fast!” Her hands fumbled with his zipper and snap, jerking them open and tugging his jeans down his thighs, freeing him from his boxers.

“No problem,” she hissed out, and Logan felt the crest of his ear caught between her teeth. Her ragged breath thrummed through him as he tugged the crotch of her panties aside. “The cleaning crew’s due to come through here in a half an hour!” When he entered her all at once, she leaned forward and bit into his shoulder to muffle her shriek of satisfaction. The edge of her panties pressed against the swollen petals of her sex as he slammed into her, balancing her butt against the unyielding edge of her desk. At my next job, I’m demanding a couch in my office! He was solid and thick and hot, sheathing himself in her. His climax threatened to push him over the edge, and his body cried out to him, I’ve finally come home!

Ororo was his heart, and his home. He was shaken by it, but he never broke his momentum. Ororo rode it out, clinging to him and serenading him with tiny mewling sounds that became a steady chant.

“I love you. Oh God, Logan, I love you so much. I need you. I love you.”

“God, ‘Ro…eeeeaAARRGGGH! Unnnnnnnggggh!” His hips spasmed, and he felt his flesh throb, his skin pulling tight as he spilled himself within her, locked within her sweet grip. Her arms and legs remained wrapped around him as they both shuddered with the aftershocks. She lowered her forehead to his shoulder as she caught her breath, and Logan was surprised to hear a low, hitching sob.

“Darlin’?” He backed off and slowly, gently disengaged himself from her warmth before he lifted her chin. Two fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she gave him that same watery smile before she kissed him. “You’re gonna have me really worried if ya keep on cryin’ all over me, ‘Ro,” he said gruffly.

“Sorry,” she sniffled. “M’just happy. So happy.” She looked down at him, taking in his state of undress and let out a sputtery giggle. “Let me help you with that!”

“God…yer SO gonna get fired!”

“I wanted to quit this damned job anyway! I put in an application with a colleague today,” she admitted, drying her tears and helping him back into his jeans.

“More money?” Logan helped her straighten her skirt as she stood from her desk.

“Uh-uh. Less insanity. And more time left in my day. I get to help write grants and proposals for different projects instead of beating myself to death to see the projects through to completion. Which means I can get home at a sane hour of night instead of after the cows come home.” He watched her shuffle back into her blouse and button it haphazardly before she tugged on her blazer. “In the long run, it’s a better job if I want to have an actual life.” Her sapphire blue eyes glowed as she caressed his cheek. “I’d like you in my life, Logan.”

“Yer mom beat ya to the punch. She told me she wants me in your life too.”

“WHAT?!?” Her look was incredulous.

“Your mom’s something else. Can’t help but listen to her when she kidnaps you from work and pins you to the wall with questions, but she’s growin’ on me. I almost didn’t believe her when she told me about that incident with ya takin’ off yer suit at the pool, but then I remembered that Catwoman outfit left little to the imagination, and this little tour ya gave me of your desk kind of clinched it for me that I’m head-over-heels in love with an exhibitionist!” He ducked when she brandished her purse at him and hauled her against him for one more kiss, silencing her protests.

Their brief frolic in her office did little to whet their appetite. When they reached Ororo’s apartment, she made hasty hellos and goodbyes to Raven, Irene and Mr. Lensherr before she unlocked the door and yanked Logan inside. They left a trail of clothes all the way back the bedroom, and Ororo put her calls on forward and turned off her mobile right before Logan pulled her down to him, this time slowly showing her how much he missed and loved her.





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