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Dinner passed quickly, and several people offered to help Mikey and Tiller clean up in the kitchen so Darius could use the space to teach us our cookie lesson. In the meantime, the rest of us bundled the younger kids up and took them outside to play in the snow that had begun to come down while we’d been at the table.
The California and Texas kids were thrilled at the novelty of it, and they wound up playing so hard they were ready for bed by the time Darius had everything set up in the clean kitchen.
The central island was enormous, but there was also room at the giant heavy wood table by the windows. The people interested in the cookie decorating lesson gathered around to hear Darius’s instructions.
“Why are we doing this without the kids?” Tristan asked after Darius finished his explanations and allowed us to start decorating our own cookies. “Not that I mind, but I would have thought—”
“Because of cookie dick,” Granny said absently.
Silence filled the room.
“Don’t ask,” Blue said quickly.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick enough. At the same time, Ammon Marian, who was the youngest of my Marian cousins at just twenty years old, asked, “What’s cookie dick?”
Charlie stepped forward and spoke with a serious expression. “You see, Ammon… when a boy indulges in too many cookies, sometimes he can’t quite—”
Hudson clapped a hand over his mouth and yanked him back.
Otto made an exaggerated frown. “I thought that only happened with rum cake.”
Seth shook his head. “You’ve obviously forgotten my mom’s Bourbon Balls.”
Otto opened his mouth—presumably to make a snarky comment about Seth’s mom’s balls—when Seth shot him a glare. Otto closed his mouth.
Teddy nodded. “My friend Mac makes eggnog thumbprints that’ll put you on your ass. Cookie dick is no joke.”
King glanced at Falcon. “I thought it only happened with those Hungarian pálinka things. You know, the chocolate cherry ones we had that night you decided to—”
Now it was Falcon’s turn to muzzle his husband. “Bup, bup, bup. No need to bring that up. Everyone would prefer if it stayed buried in the past. For a sneaky cat burglar, you’re surprisingly terrible at keeping secrets.”
Tilly narrowed her eyes at them with suspicion. “I wouldn’t prefer it. In fact, I’d like to know about it. What happened that night with the chocolate cherry booze bombs?”
Falcon’s cheeks turned red. “Cookie dick. Apparently.”
“Thankfully, it didn’t affect his mouth,” King said proudly. Falcon smacked him on the chest.
I noticed Darius chuckling to himself before he glanced up and shot me a wink. “You okay?” he mouthed.
“Embarrassed,” I mouthed back.
He winked at me, making my stomach tighten with need. He was so damned sexy standing there among my family with his capable, easy manner. Everyone seemed to take to him right away. He smiled and explained things like he’d taught this class a million times and still loved doing it.
I’d had the benefit of seeing Darius decorate the cookies earlier with a colorful string of lights, so I copied his idea and made several variations of his design. Felix sat quietly beside me with a large circular cookie he was painting into a masterful swirling design bursting with bright color.
“It’s the Glory Window from the Chapel of Thanksgiving in Dallas,” he murmured, without taking his eyes off the detail work. “It gets brighter as it spirals up.”
“That’s gorgeous,” I said. “I’ve never heard of it, but it looks like a place worth visiting.”
“Mm, if you like this, there’s a mosque in Iran that uses the same sort of light and color technique.”
I glanced over at his husband’s masterpiece, which was a Santa shape he’d frosted to look like Angela Merkel. Lior met my eyes and answered the question I hadn’t dared ask. “She’s oddly compelling in person. Also, if you Instagram her likeness, she sends you a bottle of Himbeergeist, which is a raspberry liquor that tastes amazing over ice cream.”
Arthur piped up from the tidy Christmas wreath he was frosting. “She only does that for you, sir. And I’m fairly certain the symbolism goes over your head.”
Lior frowned. “What symbolism?”
Felix spoke without looking up. “She’s giving you a raspberry.”
Lior looked confused. “Not an actual—”
Max made an indelicate fart sound with his mouth. “Raspberry,” he said.
Lior’s mouth opened in surprise. “That Miststück,” he said in dawning comprehension. “How dare she?”
Felix reached out blindly and patted his husband’s arm. “I already sent her a bird, dear. It’s fine.”
Lior blinked. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Arthur somehow managed to retain his dignity as he nodded. “Indeed he did, sir. It was a beautiful fascinator made on an oval pillbox hat with a bird sporting an extravagant selection of feathers. It’s a fascinator fit for a queen, if I may say so. Your king consort has quite a refined sense of taste.”
Lior’s eyes squeezed closed. “This is how wars begin.”
