Page 42 of The Mistletoe Trap
“Starting to regret your choice yet?” he asked, and she adamantly shook her head. Then she shielded her hand with her mouth.
“…Ooo eee at?” After giving her a scrunched-up expression to convey he couldn’t understand a word she’d said, she pointed at the light fixture over the kitchen counter. “Isthletoe. It asn’t there dith morning, was it?”
Sure enough, plastic sprigs of the plant Mom had become obsessed with were wound around the light fixture hanging over the island. Festive, but he doubted that was the sole reason Mom had added the last-minute decoration.
“I swear.” He lifted an unfrosted cookie and eyed it, twisting it this way and that. “Now I’m worried she put it in the cookies.”
Julie swallowed her mouthful, the gulp loud without the commotion that came from having more than just the two of them around. “I wouldn’t put it past her or my mom to take it that far, but surely they realize mistletoe is poisonous. Right?”
“Well, it’s already too late for both of us, so…” He shrugged and forewent a spoon in favor of dipping the cookie directly in the creamy, fluffy red frosting. This time, he decided to eat it one bite at a time.
“Plot twist, one of these candies contains the antidote. However will we figure out which one?” She picked up a mini marshmallow and pinched it between two fingers. “Open your mouth, and we’ll start testing.”
Considering he was already having trouble with his runaway libido, he shouldn’t comply. But the idea of her feeding him, like in one of those cheesy movies she forced him to watch with her? Game on.
After swallowing the last of his cookie and swiping his tongue around his mouth to remove the remnants from his teeth, he parted his lips.
“Hello, did you forget how bad of a shot I am? When we used to play Horse, I was the only player allowed to spell horseshoes, and I still got out before the rest of you.”
Memories of the countless hours they’d spent in the driveway shooting baskets flickered. He could hear the bounce of the ball, feel the texturized leather under his fingertips. Dad, Nikita, himself, and Jules, out on the unforgiving court that’d robbed them all of a layer or two of skin throughout the years. Regardless of countless tips and lessons on form, Julie’s shots were wild and inconsistent. They fell short or went too far, and adding extra letters had not only convinced her to play anyway, but also helped her remain in the game longer. With each miss, she also became funnier and funnier, and was as likely to chuck the ball at his head as at the hoop.
Despite the pinch of disappointment that she wouldn’t be sensually feeding him treats, cookie decorating was about to be a lot more fun. He opened as wide as he could, and she fired the marshmallow at his mouth.
It binged him in the forehead, and she laughed and picked up a few more. The next one hit his cheek before bouncing off his chest and landing on the floor.
“At this rate,” he said, “I’ll die from the poison before we figure out which candy contains the antidote.”
Three marshmallows hit him in the face at the same time, and he skirted the island to dive for cover.
“You could help, you conceited ass,” she taunted. “Even your receivers have to work to catch your wonky passes sometimes.”
He gasped, loud and dramatic. Then he planted his hand on the corner of the island counter and completed a badass slide across it, like a getaway driver would do to the hood of a car. Julie’s eyes bulged to cartoon character levels, a squeal coming out as she backpedaled toward the fridge. “Didn’t think I could hurdle that, did you?” he asked.
“I’m so gonna tell your mom,” she teased as she looked from side to side, assumedly judging which way would provide the faster escape. His competitive streak wouldn’t allow for that, but he’d wait to catch her and rub in his speediness before informing her that she’d never win this game.
He advanced another step. “While you’re at it, tell her about the Christmas card, too.”
“Ah!” She darted to his right side, and while he went to block her path around the island, it turned out she wasn’t escaping but arming herself. She scooped up a handful of mini M&Ms and cocked her arm.
Hmm.Dodge, launch a sugary counterattack of his own, or open his mouth and let the Candy Gods sort it out?
The rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breath quickened wasn’t helping his tactical skills. After a couple of seconds, she picked out a single M&M and demanded him to open up. Expecting a trap, his muscles coiled, ready to spring, but he did as instructed.
After firing—and landing—one in his mouth, she tossed the rest into hers and crunched on the candies. “Between the marshmallows and M&Ms, I think we’re safe.”
Interesting. He felt anything but safe right now. He closed the gap between them with one long stride and arched an eyebrow. “Is that your way of calling a truce?”
She nodded. “Truce.” Her chin lifted a couple more inches so she could peer at his face, keying him in to the fact that he was looming over her. Surprising how all that attitude, humor, kindness, and scientific knowledge could be packed into such a tiny body.
A short, curvy body that kept causing his pulse to thunder and his common sense to go on a vacation of its own. Had time halted or was this one of those moments of clarity that held enough weight to draw it out longer?
His gaze dipped to her lips. Whoever was in control of his body lifted his arm. He pressed his thumb to the corner of her mouth and used it to wipe away the frosting that’d stuck there.
“Oh jeez.” Her tongue darted out, swiping that same spot he’d touched, and he just stood there, unable to move. “Pretty sure that’s evidence enough that I fail at being sexy. And maybe I have to accept that’s just not one of my sides or whatever. But come on, I’m hardly boring.”
Her eyes sought his, as if she needed confirmation.
On impulse, he lifted his thumb to his own mouth and sucked it clean of the frosting.
