“This is so good, Mrs. Dixon.”
She waves me off. “Thank you, dear, and call me Bridget.”
After lunch, I’m launched into the wonderful world of Dixon Family Christmas: Pre-Christmas Edition. I get a cooking decorating tutorial, gingerbread house baking prep lesson, and the top three meals to master to keep a Dixon man, lecture.
I take it all in stride, while ignoring how amazing it feels to be included, not only in a family setting but Jason’s.
He enters the kitchen as if my thoughts manifested him. I want to touch him. No. I want to do much more than touch him, but I don’t want to confuse his mother any further. She’s too excited about her son having a possible love interest.
Jason, however, has no qualms confusing his mother. Stepping behind me, he grabs my waist, leans over, and bites the cookie I’m holding.
“Such a good cookie,” he hums. “I’ll need more later.”
Bridget’s back is to us. She doesn’t see the way he looks at me when he says it, or that he’d cupped me between my legs as he talks about ‘later.’ She also misses when I grab the counter to keep from moaning as his tongue traces my earlobe.
I hate him.
“No way, Ollie. You’ll ruin dinner,” she tells him like he’s five-years-old.”
Moving the cookies she’s frosted to the center, she faces us again. My cheeks are flushed, and Jason has managed to be all the way across the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
“Mom, I can assure you, I’ll still be hungry after.”
Just like that, I choke on the cookie Jason ruined.
16
Jason
Idon’t know what the fuck I was thinking, but I’m far too comfortable having Bree at my parents’ house, despite my mom calling her my girlfriend every five minutes. Bree is not my girlfriend, but I don’t feel my chest tightening every time my mom says it. I have two theories. One, I deep down would not mind keeping Bree around, or two, I know exactly what we’re doing, so there’s no need to panic.
Either way, I’m cool as a cucumber even when the out-of-town relatives start pouring in and cooing over ‘Ollie’s lady.’
They really need to mind their business.
“I thought you were going to be an old coot before you settled down, boy.”
I try not to roll my eyes at my grandmother like she’s not part of the reason I am who I am.
“Where’s Pop-Pop?” I’m in a shit-starting mood.
Her gray eyebrows furrow as she pierces me with the green eyes I inherited from her.
“You know I never married that bastard, you little shit.”
“Ma! Do you really have to talk about my dad like that?” My dad chuckles.
Pop-Pop has always been part of our lives, although he and Grandma don’t get along.
“Shut the hell up, Matt and get me a drink,” the crazy bat orders my dad. “And, don’t come back with that weak shit.”
She chuckles when I squeeze her and smother her with kisses.
“Don’t try to be sweet, now. I oughta whip yo’ ass.”
“Don’t start none, won’t be none, Grandma.”
I wink at her when my phone rings and step out of the noisy-ass living room.
