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Landon held her gaze. “Then that’s what we’ll do,” he directed, turning his attention to her cell phone. He gently removed it from her grasp. “We’ll sing and bake.”
“On the livestream?” she stammered.
“It’s livestream or bust, bonbon. Think of your grandmother. You want to win, don’t you?”
They had to win, and that meant doing whatever it took.
She finished her third lollipop and flicked the stick into the garbage. “I,” she sang with a shimmy shake, “want to win,” she continued adding a soft clap. “I want to win. Win, win, win, win, win, win, win, win, win.” She eyed her husband. “What do you think? It’s like I can taste the notes.”
Landon set the phones down on the counter and took her into his arms. “This is what I think whenever you sing,” he answered and pressed his lips to hers.
And holy, pump up the volume! She dissolved into his embrace. His kiss penetrated her soul. Gentle and reverent, it buzzed through her like a swarm of music-loving, giant, fuzzy bumblebees.
“However,” he crooned against her mouth as the vibration of his words mingled with her fuzzy bumblebee buzz.
“However?” she repeated.
“Since this is supposed to be for charity,” he sang.
His voice had her ready to remind the man she wasn’t wearing panties.
“Yes?” she whispered, exercising considerable restraint.
“Try substitutingbakeforwin.”
She smiled against his mouth. “This is why you’re the lyrical genius,” she replied, feeling the baking rhythm in her bones.
Landon raised an eyebrow. “Lyrical genius? What’s gotten into you?”
“Sugar,” she answered, flashing a devilish grin.
He drank her in with those dreamy brown eyes. “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
The kitchen pulsed around her, or it could have been Mr. Sweet snoring. Whatever it was, a lightness worked its way through her body.
Landon retrieved her phone. “I’ll count you down, then set the phone on the window ledge to get a wide-angle view of the kitchen.”
“Okay.” If she didn’t know better, she’d assume she’d left her body to float around the space like a baking spirit.
Harper, Patron Saint of Culinary Confections.
Landon held up the phone. “Three, two, one.”
She stared into the camera. “Hello, LookyLoo, I’m Harper Presley-Paige, and I’m here to bake. To bake. I want to bake, bake, bake, bake, bake,” she chanted. “I’m with Landon Paige. And we’re making music and sugar cookies.”
Damn, girl, that was some smooth talking!
She’d need to thank her tongue, which was quite tingly.
It had to be the excitement.
Landon put his arm around her and held the phone in front of them as a bevy of heart emojis flooded the screen.
“They like us?” he asked as a flurry of thumbs-up and a continuous flow of hearts answered his question.
And her silly heart skipped a beat.
