Page 39 of Merry Mischief List
“Just wait,” I say, skin flushing with heat at the memory. “So I opened it up, and the rocking horse was fuckingbrown.”
“Brown?” He mock gasps. “Not brown!”
“Yes, brown,” I say, hitting him with a pillow. “Like one of those antique wooden rocking horses I’m sure cost them a fortune.”
“And that’s so bad because…?”
“I was so distraught it wasn’t pink, I started bawling right in the middle of the living room with my entire family there.”
“That’s not even—”
“I got so worked up I barfed on the Christmas tree.”
A deep laugh escapes him. “Seriously?”
“Yep, it smelled so bad they had to throw out the tree before we could continue. Jess gives me a barf bag every year before we open presents in case ‘I get something in the wrong color.’”
“What had you eaten for breakfast?”
“What kind of question is that?” I ask, considering the truth will just add to the embarrassment.
“Humor me?”
I fight a smile and ultimately cave. “I had a cupcake.”
“Only a single cupcake?” He cocks a brow, and I press my lips together.
“Well, a normal amount…”
“How many, Andi?”
There’s a long pause in which he rubs his thumb across my wrist, blowing my resolve to pieces. “Fine. It was five.”
“Five?” He chokes on a laugh.
“But in my defense, it was Christmas! And Christmas cupcakes don’t count.”
“I think your family’s yakked-on Christmas tree would beg to differ,” he says between fits of laughter.
“It went to a perfectly nice junk yard.”
“Well, I know what I’mnotmaking you for Christmas breakfast,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the fine craftsmanship of Spruce Wayne.”
“I’m a grown woman who’s perfectly capable of eating a few sweet treats without risking the destruction of our beloved tree.”
“If you say so,Cupcake.”
“You’re cruel!” I sit up, grab a pillow, and hit him with it repeatedly.
“Oh, now you’ve done it.” He pushes himself up and tackles me to the mattress. His body weight presses down on me, the fluffy pillow all that separates us. “Watch yourself.”
“I was only giving you a warning message for teasing me. Did I break yourno bratty vibesin the bedroom rule or something?”
He drops his head to my ear, tone firm. “Something like that.”
I’m not sure if it’s his words or his weight that has me blurting, “What are you gonna do about it?”
His warm breath hits my neck, and I allow myself five seconds to relish in the intoxicating distraction of his smell. “Leave you to dream about your pink horses.”
