Page 20 of Claimed By River

She walks over, grabs one corner of the blanket, and immediately starts pulling everything I’d just straightened.

“It was already fixed.”

“It was crooked.” She gives the blanket one final tug before stepping back with a satisfied smile. “There.”

I stare at the bed. “It looks exactly the same.”

“It absolutely does not.”

“It absolutely does,” I throw back.

“You have no appreciation for craftsmanship.”

“It’s a bed.”

“It’s art.”

I shake my head. “You know, I think you’re just making work for yourself.”

She places a hand over her heart. “I’m offended.”

“I was hoping you would be.”

She reaches down, grabs one of the decorative pillows, and throws it directly at my face. The pillow bounces harmlessly off my shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Her eyes widen theatrically. “Was that a threat?”

“It was a promise.” I pick up the pillow and take a threatening step toward her.

She squeals, spins, and bolts from the bedroom, laughing.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.”

“You have to catch me first.”

I chase her down the hallway, her laughter echoing off the walls as she darts around the kitchen island and into the living room. She snatches another pillow off the couch and launches it at me without looking. It misses by several feet.

“Terrible aim.”

“I was distracting you.”

Somewhere between the front door and the sofa, she realizes she’s trapped. Her eyes dart toward the hallway. Then back to me.

“Oh...”

“Yeah.”

“I surrender.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She grins. “You probably shouldn’t.”

She makes a sudden break for the hallway. But I catch her around the waist before she takes two full steps.

She laughs so hard she nearly loses her balance, and together, we tumble sideways onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and cushions. I make sure to take most of the impact, instinctively keeping her from hitting the armrest before she lands against the cushions beneath me.