Page 5 of Tizzy's Little Thanksgiving

Okay, Mr. Bossypants,she texted back. The name suited him. So did a long list of others. Mr. Head In His Ass, Mr. Doesn’t Have A Clue, Mr. Control Freak, Mr. Pussy Tease, Dommabe… she pretty much had a different nickname for him every day of the week, but Mr. Bossypants was the only one she ever said to his face. Well, his face over text. She hadn’t seen him since that night at the restaurant over a month ago. When he’d basically threatened to spank her, and then did absolutely nothing and never mentioned it again.

Which was fine, it was fine, it had been a weird night, and their emotions had been high. They’d both probably been caught up in the moment. It was just a sentence, one meaningless measly little sentence. She’d forgotten all about it. Well, she’d tried, but Eddie made it impossible.

Because even though he was barely speaking to her, hewasspeaking to her. And everything that came out of his mouth was bossy, and domineering, and overbearing, and… panty melting.

Seriously, Eddie was acting like a Daddy.

When it came to the upcoming wedding, he’d taken over without ever asking if she wanted that or if she needed him to. She didn’t. She was perfectly capable of procuring her own travel plans.

Not that Eddie would know, because he hadn’t given her a chance. He’d booked her on the same flight as him, got them both seats in first class, next to each other, and given her the window because somehow, he’d known that was what she liked. Then he’d done the same with their lodging. He’d made her reservation at Rawhide, and paid for that one too, booking her into an adjoining suite. She hadn’t even been responsible for her own Uber to the airport. He’d sent a car for her, like she was completely inept.

And he’d been texting her since she got in the car. Reminding her to wear her seatbelt, to make sure her jacket was on her and not in her suitcase because it would be cold in Montana in November. He’d told her which bag-check line was moving fastest and which TSA agent to avoid. Which place had the cheapest coffee, and where the bathrooms were. And that was just in the last hour. The morning had been just as bad, with a thousand reminders of what she needed to pack.

She knew he was just trying to help, but it was honestly infuriating. Where did he get off acting like such a Daddy? He didn’t have the right, and when it came down to it, he probably didn’t have the balls either, because if he did, well, then he’d have done something other than just make offhand threats, wouldn’t he have?

And simply because she wanted to remind him that he had no right and it wasn’t his place, she was late getting to the gate, because she’d insisted on going through the slow-moving baggage line, using the grumpiest TSA agent, and stopping at the worst coffee shop she could find. She’d also left her winter coat in her checked bag. Now she was stomping up to the gate, in a flimsy tunic and leggings, holding an overpriced coffee that tasted like sludge, and the moment she laid her eyes on Eddie Mayer, she was pretty sure she was gonna kill him.

Hopefully he’d already boarded the plane, and when she got on she could put in the earbuds he’d reminded her six times to bring, turn on a movie, and ignore him until they landed. Maybe longer.

Except Eddie wasn’t on the plane. When she got to the gate, finding it almost empty because most of the passengers had already boarded, there he was, standing next to the agent desk, leaning against it, with an easy smile that lit up his face and brought out his dimples, an airport souvenir hoodie over his arm.

“I had a feeling you’d forget your coat.” He held the hoodie out to her. Of course it was orange, her favorite color, emblazoned with H-Town in big purple and orange striped block letters.

“I’m fine,” she huffed, pushing past him.

He stopped her by grabbing her purse strap. “It’s cold. I saw you shivering from a mile away and it will be colder when we land. Put it on.”

“I said I’m fine!” she shouted, shrinking when she realized that airline security was watching them from a distance, probably anticipating some sort of dispute. Eddie seemed to notice too, his eyebrows raising to his hairline as he wordlessly held out the hoodie once more.

She grabbed it and shrugged into it, handing him her purse to hold while she did so. “I’m not a child, you know. I didn’t need you to do all this stuff. I didn't need you to buy my plane ticket or book my room. I didn't need the ten thousand texts about how to pack, and what to pack, and where to go, and I didn’t need you to send a car. I can do all those things. I’m twenty-six, Eddie. I’ve been doing things for myself for a while now.”

She jerked up the zipper, and looked at him, expecting some sort of wounded expression or even one of contrition, but he had his head cocked to the side, and was looking at her with a soft, amused-looking smile. “I know you’re not a child. But… you’re Tizzy.”

“My name is Teresa!” Grabbing her purse from him, she handed her ticket to the gate attendant, and stomped onto the jet bridge with Eddie right behind her.

Neither of them said another word until they were seated, the flight attendant had finished their “what to do in an emergency” speech, and the plane was taking off.

She was digging through her purse for her earbuds when Eddie placed a hand on top of hers. “I know you’re not a child, Teresa. I also know you procrastinate, and you can be a bit scatterbrained, and I know how important Georgie is to you. I wanted to make sure you got to Rawhide, safely: on time, and in one piece. My sister is about to marry my best friend. I want the wedding to be perfect. And part of that, honestly one of the most important parts, is you being there.”

Well shit. How could she be mad at that? She couldn’t really, but she tried anyway. “Well, I’m on the plane now, and god willing, we’ll get to the Ranch in one piece, so you did your duty. You can rest easy now. You’re a good best man,” she spat. At that moment, she produced her earbuds, and triumphantly dug them out of the case, popping them into her ears. Let the ignoring begin.

Eddie seemed to get the hint too, or so she thought. He reached into his backpack, withdrew a bottle of water, and a plastic-wrapped muffin, then another one. He held the second one out to her. She grabbed it from his hand, not because she wanted it but because she recognized it. “Is that…?”

Eddie nodded. “The last of the best apple-cinnamon-crumble muffins in the world.”

“Eddie! These are like… a month old! How are they not just a pile of mold?”

“I kept them in the freezer and took them out one at a time for a treat. I can’t eat two dozen muffins before they have a chance to go bad.”

“Oh.” She felt like an idiot. She couldn’t believe he still had them, or that he had thought to bring them on the plane. “You really liked them?”

“Are you kidding? They’re delicious. I had to freeze them or I would have eaten them all and then I’d be shaped like an apple and wouldn’t fit into my tux.”

“Are they really good?” She cautiously peeled back the edge of the plastic and broke off a bite, putting it in her mouth, half expecting the whole thing to be a prank, thinking she’d end up spitting it out into her hand or gagging and making a scene.

Instead, flavor exploded on her tongue. The muffin was moist, and fragrant, sweet and savory with a hint of spice. “Wow! That actually is good!”

Eddie frowned quizzically. “Did you not have any?”

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