Page 124 of Hunted: Season Two

“Not in house form.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it somehow always tastes stale. Even fresh out the box.”

“Should we bake some gingerbread cookies for Christmas Eve?” Our eyes briefly meet again. “Should that become like an ‘our family’ tradition?”

Warmth spreads throughout my entire system unconsciously slowing my steps. “I love the idea of us having our own traditions.”

“Me too.” A hint of sadness unexpectedly seeps into her stare. “We didn’t have a shit ton growing up, but…I…want…our little one to have that. Something to look forward to –besides presents– during the holiday season.”

I can’t stop smiling even if I wanted to.

Thankfully, I don’t.

“What was yours?”

Our arrival at the car has her gently sliding to the ground as she answers, “Christmas gels.”

“Is that…a nail polish you wear?”

“I swear to Saint Nick you will be on the not fun naughty list if you make me feel fucking old again tonight.”

The reference to the disco dancing in skis gets me laughing once more while she merely glares.

Age rarely ever comes up in a serious nature, and I’m grateful for it.

I wonder if it will with our son.

I wonder if I’ll be a “young” ‘rent or if they’ll be “old” ‘rents.

Huh.

I wonder if it’ll be a big deal that he hasthree‘rents versus the typical two or divorced four.

After getting Bunny safely tucked inside, I shut the door and make my way around to the driver’s seat where I’m reminded to take out my phone due to the way it’s digging into my frame.

Rather than immediately start the engine, I give it a quick swipe to reveal several surprise texts from Nolan.

Nolan: Out of gas.

Nolan: Cans are gone.

Nolan: Bring me two.

Nolan: At the population sign.

There’s no stopping the grunt of bewilderment that escapes. “How the fuck did he run out of gas?”

Bunny rolls her attention away from where she’s already doodling “Disco Inferno” on her inner thigh over to me. “What?”

“Nolan,” I answer while texting back my ETA. “His truck is somehow out of fucking gas.”

“Didn’t he just fill up?”

“Yeah.” Starting the engine is followed by an irritated headshake. “And I ran every fucking diagnostic test under the sun too.” Post checking my surroundings, I begin reversing. “Everything came back fucking clear.”

She offers me a teasing grin. “Which is what’s making myPolar Expressso pissed.”

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