Page 6 of Tizzy's Little Thanksgiving

She shook her head as she took a much bigger bite. “I honestly was afraid to. And if they sucked, I didn't want to know because I’d have felt too guilty about those poor apples getting ruined all over again.”

“You thought they were gonna be bad, so you sent them to me?” Eddie asked incredulously. “Wow, Tizzy, what did I ever do to you?”

“It’s not that I thought they were gonna be bad… it’s just after the whole applesauce fiasco, I was afraid to know.” She’d sent them to his office by courier, three days after their fateful grocery store meeting with a note.Applesauce is too hard. Hope you don’t mind these muffins instead. Teresa.

“Well, they are excellent. In fact I was hoping I could talk you into giving Jeannie the recipe.”

I could make you more.She thought it, but she didn’t say it. She was still trying to be mad at him. In typical Eddie fashion, he was making that hard.

“I texted you a thank you and told you how good they were.”

She knew that. She could recite that text by heart. She could recite all of them by heart.

She shrugged. “That’s just something people say.”

“Well, I meant it.” Eddie twisted in his seat and looked deeply into her eyes, his gaze boring into her soul until she had to look away. “I meant everything I texted.”

She tried hard to school her reaction, but it was immediate and visceral. Her mouth dropped open and she sucked in air in greedy little breaths. Her hands closed into fists, squishing the remainder of the muffin into crumbs. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Her mouth went dry, and though she told herself to ignore him, she couldn’t help the reply that escaped her lips. “R-really?”

Raincheck on the consequence. It’s going to have to wait until we are at Rawhide together.

You’re so naughty. I can’t wait to spank you.

Hmm… should I add that to the list?

She probably had at least a dozen texts like that from Eddie over the course of the last month and a half, and she’d ignored every single one of them. She’d blown them off with a roll of her eyes and a derisive laugh because if she didn’t… well, if she didn’t, she might just believe them. And that would be dangerous.

This was Eddie. Strong, sensible, reliable, Eddie. The exact opposite of her in every way. And there was no way he was kinky. He was just teasing her. Harmless teasing really. He probably had no idea how his innocent texts affected her.

“You never responded.” There was no accusation in his voice, just a matter-of-fact statement, tinged with curiosity.

She shrugged, still finding it hard to breathe. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“I hear consent is a good place to start.”

Such a simple statement, but it made her panties wet. She didn’t say anything. Her brain was racing a mile a minute, and her eyes were getting heavy. She hated flying and she’d taken a Xanax when she’d stopped at that godawful coffee shop. She should say that. Otherwise she’d feel guilty for conking out on him, but it was inevitable.

“Eddie…I…” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded far away and tinny. “I think I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“It’s okay, Tizzy. You don’t have to say anything. Forget I ever did. I’m sorry. I just… I guess I assumed you were like Georgie in that way.”

Her eyelids were too heavy. She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. She could feel sleep calling her, but she had to answer Eddie or else…

I’ll never know.

The thought slid across her consciousness and she fought to croak out, “I am like Georgie.” Then she surrendered to the call of the sandman and slept.

Chapter 2

Eddie

So he was right.Teresa was a Little. He didn’t know much about them, but he knew the title suited her. And he knew he wanted to learn more. He had a thousand questions, but he didn’t get a chance to ask them, because as soon as that bombshell dropped, Tizzy fell fast asleep.

He knew she hated flying; Georgie had mentioned it. It was why he’d tried so hard to take care of everything trip related for her.

Tizzy slept the entire rest of the flight, her head on his shoulder, and didn’t stir until he gently shook her awake after the plane landed. She was groggy and out of it, so he guided her through the airport to baggage claim, gathered her bright orange suitcases, along with his own more nondescript black ones, cognizant of the fact the mix reminded him of the recent holiday that had just passed, and got them a cab.

They were almost to the Ranch when she finally seemed to come out of the fog. “I am like Georgie,” she said, repeating her earlier statement as if she didn’t remember making it. “So you can’t say those things to me, because I want to take them seriously.”

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