“Nice to meet you, Trixi.”
She held out her hand.
I accepted and took note of her nails. Coated in blue and flaking. Like mine.
“We already have something in common.” I grinned and nodded to our hands. “Why don’t you guys come in? Hunter won’t be back for another few hours. I can ask all the questions.”
“Oh, boy. After you, Trix.” Derek held out his hand, leading Trixi in.
I took her purple leather coat and hung it in the closet next to Derek’s. “Aren’t you cold, Trixi? Shorts in the middle of December?”
“Freezing,” she said, running her hands up and down her bare arms. “But I’ve got Derek to keep me warm.”
I blinked. “You guys want anything? I was just getting ready to make a turkey sandwich. Maybe some cocoa to warm you up.”
“Oh, I’d love a sandwich!” Trixi lit up. “But light on the meat—as in none. I’m a vegetarian.”
“Okay, cool. But don’t hate me if I get it wrong. I’m more of a meat and potatoes with an outrageous sweet tooth kinda gal.”
“If you’ve only got cheese, I don’t mind. I live off it.”
“Derek, you want anything?”
“I’m good, Mags.” He put his hand on the small of Trixi’s back and directed her to the window seat, where they snuggled in.
“Aww, aren’t you two disgustingly cute?” I jested, made quick work of the sandwich-making, and handed a plate to Trixi. “It’s just lettuce and Colby cheese. I hope that’s okay.”
“Totally fine. Got any Pommery Meaux?”
I stopped mid-step and blinked at her. “I’m not even going to pretend to know what that is.”
Trixi giggled. “Sorry, it’s a mustard.”
“Oh—yeah. Sure, I’ve got some.”
“Mags, the kind you have is definitelynotPommery Meaux,” Derek quipped.
“Oh?” I said, pulling out the yellow barrel-shaped bottle from the fridge and handing it to Trixi.
“Pommery Meaux is from France.” She stared into Derek’s eyes, pulling him in, and said softly, “Stone ground. Beautiful nutty flavor…Perfection.” Then she kissed him softly. “I’m kind of a mustard snob.”
Oh barf.
Turning away, I one-handed my perfectly meaty sandwich and shoved it in my mouth, taking note of the details of the ceiling, the floor, anything except them.
“I love the way you talk about mustard,” Derek whispered. “It’s so… erotic.”
My nose curled and I took another bite to muffle the sounds of them, but it didn’t help quiet the grossly wet noises coming from theirdirection.
“So, Trixi…” I said, turning around only to find them in a full make-out sesh. My jaw dropped. Trixi had positioned herself so she was straddling him, the bottle of mustard wedged between them as she ground against his groin.
“Jesus—don’t make me get the hose.”
They startled. The mustard bottle erupted, shooting a yellow rope across Derek’s thigh and onto her chest.
“Sorry, Mags, I don’t know what got into us,” he said, quickly wiping the mustard from her breasts.
“Well, I certainly do. It’s quite deplorable.” Uncle Silas materialized between me and them, just inches from their faces.
