Page 62 of Ho Ho Oh No

Nay. A llama.

My squirrel brain holds up his little paw for a high-five.

Messing with my father a little, I let my face wax over. “Hold on, and I’ll tell you.” I brace my hands on my desk and shove my chair to the right, sailing around for a full revolution.

Once I’m facing the front again, I bat my eyes up at him and let my appreciation shine through. “Yes. I honestly love it. Thank you so dang much. How did you think of this? It’s perfect.”

I spin it again.

“Well, I guess I wanted to ensure you knew I was glad to have you here. And I noticed the constant fidgeting like you were trying to get comfortable. You mentioned it was typical for your ADHD. I didn’t know chairs for this were even a thing, but I saw an advertisement for one and knew I had to get it for you.”

“I love it so much. Thank you.” I rise to my feet and fling my arms around him. “Thank you.Thank yooou.”

From over Boss Dad’s shoulder, I catch sight of my sexy John McClane approaching. “Pipe down. We’re trying to have a party. What’s with all the squawking?”

Excited to show off my present, I release my thoughtful Santa Dad and dart over to grab Tomer’s hand.“Babe! Come look at my new chair.” I yank him toward my desk. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Unimpressed as the day is long, he simply nods. “It’s nice, I guess.”

“You guess?” Scoffing, I jut my jaw out and roll my eyes. “This is the best flippin’ chair. It spins, rocks,andI can sit cross-legged.”

“All office chairs spin, Lettie,” my fiancé drawls.

Clearly, he doesn’t comprehend the majesty of this chair. The poor dolt. It’s my civic duty to help him see the light.

“Try it out, babe,” I order him, dragging him the rest of the way to my desk. “I promise you’ll understand why I can’t stop gushing at Boss Dad.” I pat the seat of the chair twice. “Come on, now. Don’t be shy. Sit on your biscuits.”

“How many times did she thank you?” he asks Big Al as he begrudgingly drops into the heavenly chair.

“Can’t count that high,” Boss Dad responds with a sneaky grin.

Tomer wobbles from side to side, testing the chair like my good little Dom. I’d pat his head and tell him so to get a rise out of him if we weren’t in mixed company.

I lean over his shoulder. “Well? Do you love it, or do you love it?”

Again, not a hint of emotion in his tone or face. “It’s nice.”

Then I see it. The tiny quiver of his lips and teasing twinkle in his eye. He’s messing with me.

Well, played, sir.

“Get off,” I bark out in faux outrage. “If you don’t appreciate it, you can’t sit in it. Go get in your old crusty chair for all I care.”

He laughs while letting me yank him out of the chair. Once standing, he keeps hold of my hand. I run my thumb over his knuckles, butterflies in my stomach over the simple touch.

Feeling extra playful now, Iglance at Boss Dad. “I’m in charge of buying office supplies and replacing furniture around here, right?”

Cautiously, he nods, slow and controlled. “Yes. Why?”

He probably thinks I’m gonna attempt to buy one of these for everyone at Redleg.

Tempting. But nope.

Playing it up, I let my shoulders droop and exhale in a rush. “Oh thank goodness. Now I can make sure Mr. Underwhelmed gets the cheapest chair on the market once his breaks. On another, entirely different topic, do we keep a screwdriver or hand saw around here? Totally unrelated to chair tampering.”

Tomer pumps his hand around mine, smiling down at me like I’ve hung the moon just for him.

Maybe I have.

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