Page 81 of A Very Addicted Christmas

“I wasn’t,” I profess, walking away from him. “I’d rather die from hay fever than flirt with you right now.” His know-it-all grin sees new horizons, expanding farther and farther.

I groan all the way to our bedroom. Fuck, my eyes. They’re burning. I rub at them. “It’s going to be the quickest shower in the world,” I tell him. “Time me if you need to.”

His brows slowly rise, his smile vanishing while inspecting me. “Do not need to do that.”

“Awesome,” I cough out, then push open the bedroom door and immediately step on a toy truck on the floor. My anklealmost twists, and I let out a long curse before kicking the truck out of the way.

“Shit,” Farrow mutters, his concern doubling,no,tripling on me.

“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth. Foot throbs. Eyes puffy. Throat on fire. Am I dying?

“You can barely open your eyes,” Farrow refutes. He’s already passing the bassinet, and I jog into the small en-suite bathroom. Beating him there, mostly so I can wash my eyes out in the sink. Less out of pride.

Foam letters are stuck to the bathtub’s tiled walls, and rubber duckies are on the ledge. Farrow flings open the curtain and starts the shower.

After scooping handfuls of water at my eyes, I stare at myself in the mirror.Shiiit. My eyes are as swollen as they feel.

“Get in the shower,” Farrow urges. “I’ll get you some eyedrops.”

I’m not arguing with him this time, and I quickly shed my pants and boxer-briefs before climbing into the steaming shower. It’ll help more than the wet wipes. Quickly, I lather a washcloth with soap and shower off whatever invisible dust has latched itself to me.

Mostly, I stand underneath the water with my eyes open, trying to flush out the allergens.

With the curtain half-open, I see Farrow move, and I’m worried he’s about to leave.

“Don’t go,” I call out, wiping water out of my face. “Please.”

He leans against the sink. “You said it was about Fizzle.”

Up in the attic, the meeting—I’d been texting Farrow about it. So while I’m in the shower, I take a few minutes to explain the situation. My grandfather’s will. The need for a successor. I glance back at Farrow with burning eyes. “I could take it. I’m the most qualified. I have the most corporate experience.”

He combs a hand through his ash-brown hair and studies my expression. “You didn’t take it?”

“I didn’t,” I confirm. “I don’t want to be CEO ofFizzle.I think about a lot?—”

“We know.” His softer smile makes mine come out.

“Yeah, well, I never thought about that.Fizzle.Me at the helm. It’s not what I’ve ever wanted, Farrow.” But I have thought about being a CEO of more than the philanthropy I created. “Hale Co. is supposed to be my legacy.”

I’ve wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps—despite him wanting me to reroute. At some point, he could still pass it down. But that’s not an option if I choose Fizzle.

Farrow looks me over like he’s proud of me. He even says it, “I’m proud of you, wolf scout.”

Like I did the right thing.

It barrels into me and sears my eyes. I douse them back in the stream of water. “I just hope Charlie will look out for them.”

“For who?”

I explain who’s in contention for the CEO position: Charlie, Eliot, Luna, Xander, and likely Ben, too.

“Damn.”

“Luna might do better than she thinks.”

He agrees, and I shut off the water, then hop out of the shower. He hands me a towel, and I wait for him to check me out—but he’s keeping his eyes level with mine. I have no idea why that’s turning me on more.

Farrow lifts his brows. “Yourkiss me, fuck meeyes are cute, but they’re also bloodshot as hell.” He’s still in doctor-mode. He reaches for the eye drops on the counter.

---