The competitive spirit Kez keeps bringing out of me is bubbling up again. “I sure hope your sugar cookie game is better than that crooked roof you made,” I tease and stick my tongue out. “Because you’re going down.”
“You don’t stand a chance.” She finds my ear. “And when I’m finished, I’ll ruin you all over again.”
“Love to see you try.” I wet my lips, unable to ignore the jolts of pleasure coursing through me. I slide my hand over her right backside pants pocket and give it a little squeeze. “Your ass is mine, Sugarplum.”
Our eyes lock. If we keep going, this competition won’t be the only thing taking off.
“Don’t worry. I’m winning.” Kez snatches the bag of green icing, almost squeezing too hard. “Which one of your boudoir buddies taught you how to trash talk?”
“Rory,” I say immediately and tap the timer’s start button.
Ten minutes pass. We decorate in focused silence. I peep at her station. The candy cane shaped cookies have tiny paw-prints that look more like moose tracks than Ember’s. Gold glitter is everywhere, and the cookie in the corner has an obnoxious amount of sprinkles.
“What’s that one supposed to be?” I ask, pointing to a cookie topped with a combination of all the toppings.
She squints toward her tray. “My life’s work.”
“More like a cry for more sprinkles.” Before I move, she’s dumping another handful on top.
“We need a judge.” I pick up my phone. “I know a person.”
Her brows squish together. “We can’t use one of your friends to judge. That’s cheating. She’ll obviously choose yours.”
“Because mine are better. Look at that line work.” My voice probably isn’t as innocent as I want it to be. “Not because she magically knows which cookies are mine.”
“Right.” She closes the distance and pops a stray broken cookie into her mouth, then does the same to me.
Giggles erupt from my throat when Kez attacks my neck with soft kisses. Phone out, I snap a single one-handed photo of both trays and text Rory the image before Kez and I are making out.
Five minutes later, my phone rings. Rory’s video calling. Upon answering, I put the phone on speaker. Rory’s face fills the screen. Her camera-ready grin beams, perfect beach weather behind her. She’s lying on a beach chair, wearing a yellow swimsuit and oversized sunglasses, a coconut with a tiny umbrella in hand.
“No, ma’am. Bah, humbug.” Rory scolds me before saying hello. “You can’t ask me to make a life-altering decision from one blurry picture. You’re a photographer, Charlotte. I need close ups. Angles. Where’s my cookie glamour shots? There’s a lot at stake here. Which cookie crumbles, you know what I’m saying?”
I snort a laugh, looking forward to a tipsy Rory judging our competition. Remembering Kez’s lips on my neck when I took the photo, I add, “Sorry, I was distracted.”
“How’s the Twelve Sexy Nights Mission?—”
My eyes go wide and she halts her words when I frantically wave her to stop talking.
Kez’s head snaps in my direction. “What’s Twelve Sexy?—”
Suddenly, the room shifts into chaos. Ember launches herself onto the island. Like a shark attacking its prey, she chomps the stick of butter sitting too close to the edge and bolts as if she’s been training for this butter heist her entire life.
“Ember! Drop it.” Kez chases Ember. There are shuffling noises. A skidding sound rips through the cabin, and Kez crashes into the trash bin. Food scraps fly all over the floor. Meanwhile,Ember’s happy, tongue out, thinking they’re playing cops and robbers. Kez is definitely losing.
The chaos ends in a flash. Ember finally drops whatever’s left in her mouth, and I pick up trash off the floor before Ember discovers another bank to rob.
Kez holds up the remaining tooth-marked stick of butter, concern painting her face. She looks like her world just ended. “I’m calling Paige,” she mutters, already dialing. “I believe Ember will be fine, but I need to make sure.”
Kez paces the living room with the empty butter box in her hand and Paige on speaker. “Yes, unsalted,” she says. “It’s half gone. She didn’t eat the wrapper. I checked.”
“Who’s that?” Rory asks me. “Who’s yelling about butter in the background?”
I turn the camera slightly and pick up the last piece of trash from the floor. “That’s Kez.”
Rory’s face disappears momentarily when a server with a coconut bra hands her another drink. “No, the other voice. The hot annoyed one.”
“That’s her friend Paige,” I tell her and deliver the short version of all the commotion she just heard. “She used to be a veterinarian. Ember stole a butter stick, so Kez is calling to make sure she’ll be okay.”
