His gaze rakes over my body. “I’m staring at the present I want to open.”
I shiver. “Hold that thought.” I crawl over him to nab the present I picked out for him.
“What is it?”
“You have to open it to find out.”
He slowly and ever so meticulously removes the wrapping paper without tearing it.
“What are you doing? We’re not re-using the wrapping paper.”
“Nope but watching you try to be patient is fun.”
I growl at him. “You’re mean.”
“We’re in the bed. I’m allowed to tease you in the bed.”
Stupid sirens. He’s right. We made the agreement after I nearly cracked my head open on the kitchen counter when I had enough of his teasing. No more teasing me anywhere I might get injured or end up kicking Jeremy in the balls.
He opens the box and frowns. “What is this?” He removes the old-fashioned nightcap and nightshirt. “You got me Scrooge pajamas?”
“You missed one thing.”
He digs out the t-shirt and reads the front. “What part of bah-humbug don’t you understand?”
I clap. “Isn’t it perfect?”
He smiles as he places the item back in the box. “Thank you for the gift.”
I burst into laughter. “It’s a gag gift.” I reach under the bed and bring out another package. “Here’s a real gift, ya big whiner.”
“I wasn’t whining.”
“No, but you were terrified I was going to make you wear the pajamas.”
“More worried you had a fetish about old men.”
I shiver. “Nope. The only fetish I have is for a billionaire with dirty blond hair and light brown eyes.”
His eyes warm. “Good, since I have a fetish for a baker with bright blue eyes and a perky nose.”
I tap his gift. “Open it.”
This time, he doesn’t torture me and tears into the package. This is the way Christmas presents should be opened. With abandon and glee.
“What?” His brow wrinkles as he stares at the plaque. It saysJeremy’s place.
I remove the plaque from the tissue paper. “It’ll be affixed to your table in the bakery so everyone knows it’s your place.”
“Princess,” he mutters.
“What?” I bite my lip. “You don’t like it?” I blow out a breath. “It was a silly idea.”
I start to stand but he tackles me. “It’s not a stupid idea. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re serious? You like it?”
“I don’t like it.” My stomach falls. “I fucking love it. I love you.”