Page 53 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Step two: Avoid Ethan Barrett and his almost orgasm-inducing lips.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Chase

Who do I haveto fuck to find the light switch?

It’s two a.m. as I tiptoe across the chilly tile in my bare feet. I’m stumbling through the unfamiliar kitchen like a drunk raccoon. I’m thirsty, okay? Thirsty for water, I swear. That’s the story I’m sticking to. Definitely not because Ethan’s muscular arm was snuggling me in bed, stirring up all kinds of naughty thoughts that I shouldn’t be having.

After our disastrous smooch-and-splash today, we’ve been dancing around each other like awkward prom dates. I pulled the classic “headache” card and dashed off to bed. And when he slid beside me under the sheets, I pulled off an epic Sleeping Beauty act.

Did hearing him breathe get me all hot and bothered? Absolutely. Did I want to strip down and climb on top of him? Hell yeah. Am I really this sexually desperate? Appears so.

My fingers finally find the switch on the wall and—

“Sweet baby Jesus!” I gulp out, staring down at an alligator. Bubble’s beady eyes are fixed on me as if I’m a midnight snack.Fantastic.

I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. The last thing I need is to wake up the entire Barrett clan and have to explain why I’m having a standoff with their pet reptile in the middle of the night.

“Seriously!” I whisper-hiss. “I’d love just five minutes of not being scared shitless by things lurking around every corner. Fucking Florida!" I calmly approach the gator, cooing in what I hope is a soothing, please-don’t-eat-me voice. “Can’t sleep?”

Bubbles, unsurprisingly, says nothing. He doesn’t move, which I count as a win.

“Want something? A snack?” I ask, inching towards the fridge like I’m defusing a bomb. I realize I have no idea what gators eat. Cold cuts? Sauerkraut? Cucumber sandwiches? I spot a canister marked “Bubbles’ Treats” and grab it.

Please, God, don’t let it be filled with human fingers.Knowing this family it wouldn’t surprise me.

It’s a small container that might be holding dog treats. I take a whiff. Whatever’s in there sure as hell doesn’t smell like puppy chow.

The scaly beast whips its head towards me, fixing me with a predatory stare that turns my blood to ice. I’m pretty confident I just shit myself.

“It’s okay,” I say in baby talk for some reason.Am I talking like this for his benefit?

“You want a treat?” I say, presenting the container. “Open wide, Bubbles!”

To my utter shock, he obeys.Fuck me. Why would I tell a live alligator to open wide?I gasp at the rows of yellowed, razor-sharp teeth pointed straight at me.

He’s waiting… mouth gaping.Hurry up, dummy, or he’s gonna chomp on your leg.

I pop the lid and gag. I see a dead freakin’ frog.

“I bet Spielberg never had to be a reptile’s personal chef,” I sigh.

I reach for the frog but stop short. Bubbles eyes me suspiciously… as ifIwant to eat it myself.I’m just guessing because I don’t actually know what Jaws-Of-Life McGee over there is thinking.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap. “I don’t want to touch it, okay? Some of us didn’t grow up in the swamp.”

I’m trying to be cool, but my heart’s racing. Predictably, Ethan’s not here when I need him. He could control this stupid animal—keep me safe. He’s protected me before—when my fingers were trembling—with his big, strong hands and his deep, blue comforting eyes.

Snap out of it, Chase!You’re above his womanizing charms.

I grab a piece of chocolate cake from the fridge. “How about this? It’s sweet, just like you.” I waggle it enticingly, but Bubbles closes his mouth.Tough crowd.

“You know, sometimes we don’t get what we want,” I tell him. “I wanted to be in a cabin, alone, drinking wine and writing my next masterpiece. Instead, I’m in a crazy house where I’m bombarded with inappropriate thoughts and feelings—like wondering if Ethan’s penis actually feels like a slimy, limp fish.”

Oh God, did I just say that out loud? To an alligator?

“Don’t you dare repeat that.”

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