With my apartment oddly silent,I peered around for Gracie.
My wife.
I still got a kick out of saying that.
In French, English—anything in between.
“Gracie?”
“In here!”
“Narrow it down.”
“It’s an open-plan apartment, Liam,” she sniped, as grouchy as ever. “Figure it out.”
“It’s December. You’re supposed to be nice to me now.”
“My contract as your wife never stipulated that. Not my fault you didn’t read the fine print. Take it up with God.” She looked up from the counter where she was?—
“Holy shit. Are you making pierogis?”
“Like you said, it’s Christmas.”
As she tucked and plucked and stuffed the literal food from the gods, my mouth watered.
And not just over the dumplings.
She wore a pair of jeans that showcased her ass off to perfection and a small tank top that gaped at her breasts becauseshe had tits made for motorboating.I’d know—I’d done it last night.
“I booked our flights home?—”
“What?” I blinked at her.
“I don’t just talk to waste air, Liam. Are you listening or what?”
If my dick got harder at her sniping, then that was between me and my underwear. “I’m listening. Flights. What flights?”
“Plane. Home. Unless you intend on driving to Winnipeg?”
“You’re coming with me, right?” I asked warily because she was saying one thing, but her tone implied another.
“You mean after Kow just told me that he’s going to convert my bedroom into a trophy room?” Her smile turned deadly. “Bet your ass we’re going there. Squatters’ rights, Liam. Squatters’. Rights. We’re not leaving the bedroom at all!”
My lips parted. “We’re not leaving your bedroom?”
“Nope. Fuck him!”
“And fuck you,” I rumbled.
Her nose tipped up. “Yes. Extra loud.”
I moaned. “Oh,minou. I know you’re not trying to talk dirty to me, but fuck if it isn’t working.”
Her gaze caught mine and she huffed. “I’m mad, Liam. Too mad for an angry fuck.”
“You’re talking about all my teen fantasies coming true! Fucking you under your mom and dad’s roof?! Holy shit. Christmas is coming earlier thanIwill.”
She hooted. “Shut up.”
