Zero deductible health insurance company-wide?
Slot check.
Guaranteed bonuses?
You bet your sweet ass… slot fucking check!
And since I’m a pro at taking care ofhersweet ass, she’s going to rain them on you like the candyman… starting with quarterly.
I might be onto something here. The answer to world peace? Penetrate CEOs across the board.
Deliver a virus to the system that infiltrates with 100% precision ultimately delivering exponential employee satisfaction.
Companies, communities, and finally, the world.
Jesus Christ.
I’m. Fucking. Losing. It.
She presents tomorrow morning. I just have to hold it together for one more day.
But with Holly in those socks and that damn sweater? I’m pretty sure tomorrow’s going to finish what today started.
"The best part of being a woman!" My mother belts out, punctuating each syllable with a hip thrust so aggressive it drags me out of all of Holly’s slots.
Nick materializes at my shoulder, his expression one step shy of shell shock.
I guess it’s better than the burning glare. You know, if we weren’t both in serious danger of never sporting wood again.
He gestures to the horror show unfolding, “We need to shut this down before?—"
"The clothes are coming off!" Mr. McAllister announces, already halfway through unbuttoning his shirt.
"—that happens," Nick finishes, his tone grim.
Charlie pops up like an enthusiastic chaos gremlin, phone raised and already recording. "Oh no, this is content.” a case study in overshooting my mark.”
"For posterity?" I mutter, trying to make sense of her enthusiasm in light of the mistletoe kiss gone sideways trauma she’s been wrestling with.
"Blackmail," Eve supplies, flashing a grin that’s pure predator.
Charlie shrugs, utterly unbothered. "Or just, you know, for fun."
Eve nudges Charlie’s elbow. “Send me a copy. Maybe I can figure out where I overshot the mark. Do it better next time.”
Before I can intervene, Holly plucks Charlie’s phone right out of her hands. "Nope. Some things shouldn’t outlive the moment." Her fingers brush mine as she passes me the phone for safekeeping. It’s barely a second of contact, but it might as well be a live wire straight to my nervous system.
And then, like the harbinger of doom, the opening notes of "Suspicious Minds" blare through the lodge's speakers. My father steps up, tie already gone, shirt hanging open, and—oh God—is he trying to swivel his hips like Elvis?
God, this should be on National Geographic.
“Watch as the patriarchs engage in what appears to be an Elvis-inspired dominance display. The loosening of neckties indicates escalating testosterone levels..." Eve begins as though she plucked the thought right out of my head and ran with it.
"Move in," I growl at Nick. "Standard extraction protocol."
He nods, grim and resigned. "You take point on your dad, I’ll handle mine?"
"Wait!" Holly’s hand grabs my arm again, grounding me in a way that has absolutely no place in a family karaoke nightmare. "Give me a minute. I have an idea."
