Page 98 of Big Dill

“It is a fruit.”

“Oh my God,” she groans. “No, it’s not.”

I chuckle, the tension in the room lifting. “Ah yes. The age-old debate. Tomato, fruit or vegetable? Come at me.” I roll my shoulders and push my sleeves up, like I’m ready to duel. “I’m ready for you.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Let me guess, you’re a flat earth guy too.” Before I can answer she blurts out, “Wait, ohmigod, you probably also think Die Hard is a Christmas movie.”

I freeze, staring at her in mock horror. “Are you saying you don’t?”

“Good God,” she sighs. “What did I ever see in you?”

I grin and tug her against me. “A nice, fat snack.”

She snorts. “Okay. That’s true.”

I turn back to the stove, flipping the steaks, then grab an onion and start slicing. “Now,” I say casually, “I’d like you to formally admit that a tomato is a fruit.”

She lifts her knife and points it at me, eyes sparkling. “Absolutely not. You admit it’s a vegetable.”

I step closer, gently nudging the blade aside. “If you don’t admit it,” I warn, “I won’t let you snack tonight.”

Her laugh bursts out. “No, you admit it’s a vegetable, or you don’t get to snack tonight.”

I don’t even hesitate. “It’s a vegetable,” I concede. “A full-blown, card-carrying vegetable. I will duel anyone to the death who says otherwise.”

She laughs so hard she has to brace herself on the counter, and I wrap my arms around her, and drop a soft kiss onto her lips.

“That was a lot easier than I thought,” she teases, her lips tugging into a mischievous smile.

“What can I say, my Little Birdie,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “When it comes to you…I’m easy.”

She bumps her body against my groin, and I feel that familiar heat coil in my chest. Not to mention one other place.

“I’m not so sure about that…” she murmurs, eyes sparkling as my cock thickens.

I grin, leaning down just enough to nuzzle her temple. “Oh, I think you’re going to find out how easy I am.”

She shivers and swats me lightly on the shoulder. “Big talk for someone who just lost a debate over a tomato.”

I laugh, tugging her closer by the waist. “Tomatoes are serious business.”

Her laugh fills the room, echoing off the walls, and for a moment, nothing else exists. Just Jami and me alone in the cottage. I never want this moment to end.

But it has to.

Because she’s leaving before September.

23

Jami

“Hi ho, hi ho, back to reality I go,” I sing with far less enthusiasm than the tune deserves, tugging my hat down and reaching for my now dry fur lined boots.

Behind me, Brody snaps the cooler shut and carries it to the door. “You don’t like your reality?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

I pause, tapping my chin as I drop into a chair and slide my feet into my boots. “Actually,” I say slowly, honestly. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

My gaze drifts around the cottage. Clean. Quiet. No fire casting lazy shadows on the walls. No abandoned wine glasses on the coffee table. No naked man in a single bed, smirking as he waits for me to slide in beside him.