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“As much as I want to get home to finish what you started,” I say as I pull into the grocery store parking lot, “we need food.”
“Please tell me we’re buying frozen pizza and that you don’t seriously want me to cook Christmas dinner.”
“I’m trying to make Christmas better, not end it.” My jab earns me a punch to the shoulder. “I intend on cooking.”
“I’m not sure that’s much better.”
Grabbing a cart, I push myself on it like a scooter. “You have no idea what kind of talents I possess in the kitchen.”
“Oh, no, I know all about your talents. You’re great at counter sex. Or kitchen table sex. Cooking though… that’s not one of them.”
I hop off the cart and grab a ham. “It’s already cooked, just have to warm it up,” I say, placing it in the cart.
“Fine, what else?”
“No Christmas is complete without mashed potatoes.” I lift a bag of potatoes off the pile.
“Do you know how to make them?” Quinn asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I’ll google it.”
“Or… we could get these.” She holds up a container of already mashed potatoes. “All we have to do is microwave them.”
I glance between the bag of potatoes and the container she holds in her hand. It’s not how Mom would do it, but then again, I’m not Mom, and I’m pretty sure edible food is preferable to homemade food. Dropping the bag of potatoes where I got it from, I reach for the container in Quinn’s hand.
“Next… cookies.”
Making our way down the baking aisle, I try to decipher what we’ll need to make cookies, but there’s such a variety, I’m at a loss.
“I’ve got this part,” Quinn says as she tosses some stuff in the cart. “Chocolate chip, okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Looks like we’re not the only ones shopping for the holidays.” The cart is full, and the lines are long.
“Astute observation, Captain Obvious,” Quinn says with a giggle.
“You’re really asking for it today,” I tease.
She leans in close, her lips against my ear. “After what I did on the way here, I better get it… and good.”
Her breath against my skin, the sound of her voice, the words filled with promise.
“Fuck, Quinn, I’m hard again.”
Biting her bottom lip, she smiles, pleased with herself and the uncomfortable state she’s left me.
CHAPTER9
QUINN
When we arrive home, Hunter opens the door to our condo, holding it open and allowing me to step through first. The bags fall from my hands when I see the Christmas tree in the corner of our living room.
“Where? How?” I’m practically speechless.
So is he. Where I expect him to be beaming with pride, he isn’t. Seems he’s stunned by the tree in the living room, too.
“I’ll be damned.”
