Page 83 of Down & Dirty

“It says, ‘It’s a long season, and it’s better to get second than risk crashing.’”

Sky jumped, but then she gave me a knowing grin. “Good old Ricky.”

I handed her the coffee. “Right?”

Her eyes closed as she took a long sip, smacking her lips when she was done. “Heaven in a cup right there.”

“I made it myself.”

“Liar.”

I drew back, offended. “How do you know?”

“Because you would have had about three more scoops in the machine. I grew hair on my chest after that cup at your place.”

I tossed my head back with a laugh. She was probably right. Measuring out the recommended amount took too long, so my method of pouring from the bag made for variable results.

“I’ll go easier next time.”

“My chest and anxiety both thank you,” she winked at me.

There it was again, that promise of a next time, that hint of a future. It didn’t feel like it was coming from the marriage and the binding language of the prenups. It felt like more than that.

“I’ve got plans for us tonight, but I was thinking you might enjoy a little relaxing alone time before then.” I remembered thinking a while back that while she was on call for nearly everyone in her life, no one ever took care of her. Hopefully today would show her what that could look like.

Sky was eyeing me suspiciously over the rim of her mug. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

I stalked toward her, holding her gaze. “An empty house. A long, hot bath, and a playlist of your favorites blasting as loud as you want, without anyone else to hear.”

Her eyes lit up. “I do love to blast my music.”

“I know,” I nodded, my face peeling into a wide smile. “You nearly blew out my ear drums the other day on our way to dinner.”

“It’s just better loud. It wraps around you, and you can sing it out. It’s like therapy the way you can just scream the words...” she trailed off as I stopped just in front of her.

“So, does that sound like a good plan?”

“What about you?”

The corners of her mouth turned down, and I reached out to stroke the edge of her lip. “We have an Ellis family tradition to see to.”

Her innate curiosity unfurled across her face. “Oh?”

I leaned close, as if about to whisper a secret. “The grocery store.” When she reeled back with a frown, I laughed.

“What? Who the hell braves the store the day before Thanksgiving?”

“Three numbskulls who’ve been doing it this way for most of our lives.” I finished off my coffee and went to grab my clothes from my bag. “It started out as an accident. The result of poor forethought and a last-minute change of heart. But it sort of stuck. We’ve been those assholes every year since.”

“So I’m just going to stay here?” she asked, more hopeful sounding than disappointed.

“Not only that, Sky. But tomorrow when it’s time to make the traditional feast, you’re just going to watch. No helping, no prepping or cleaning. Just sipping your drink and making rude comments about how we’re doing it wrong.”

She chuckled, because she knew I was right, that’s exactly what she’d do. “Willyou be doing it wrong?”

“Wrong is subjective.”

“But people get sick from doing it wrong.”

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