“Because of my job?”
He shrugged. “That. And this is our first time vacationing together. I thought we might want to try a few days and see how it went before we booked a month cruise somewhere.”
“I am never going to cruise anywhere,” I said. “I don’t like boats nearly enough.”
He grinned. “Good to know. I’m never spelunking.”
“Good to know.”
I stood and took our plates to the sink. “This is our only chance, isn’t it?” I asked over the frothing of bubbles in the sink.
“To go on vacation?”
I nodded. He was twisted in his chair, watching me. I flicked bubbles his way and he batted them out of the air.
“We’ll have other chances.”
“But not for a long time,” I said. “Maybe not until next year.”
He finished his beer, then put both bottles in the recycle bin. “True. Plus, we have a wedding coming up. Lots to plan on top of everything else.”
I groaned. “It’s so much planning.”
He chuckled and stepped up behind me, hands landing on my hips, then stroking down my jeans before he wrapped his arms around me, pressing his warmth and his strength against my body, his mouth near my ear. “I like planning extravagant things with you,” he murmured, all sexy-like.
“A pizza tower isn’t extravagant,” I murmured back. “When I say fancy wedding, there better be some fancy stuff.”
He exhaled and the warm burst of air on my neck made me shiver. Then he leaned in a little closer and bit gently at my earlobe. “But it’s a whole tower. Made of pizza.”
“I expect you to bring your A-game to these negotiations, Mr. Bailey.”
He hummed and pressed a kiss to the base of my neck. Electricity ran through me: chest, spine, hips. Good thing I had already turned off the water or there’d have been bubbles all over the floor.
“How about a no-host bar?” he husked.
“Odin would kill me.”
“We’ll provide the fancy pretzels.”
“Pretzels aren’t fancy,” I gasped, as his hands slipped around in front of me, fingers gently tugging my sweater up just enough for his hands to slip under and stroke my heated skin.
“We can make them fancy.”
“How?”
“Chocolate-dipped pretzels.”
“Still not fancy enough. And what about the cake?”
He tugged my earlobe a little harder. “Who needs a dumb cake? Just serve everyone chocolate pretzels. Easy. Cheap. Give them a can of whipped cream and let them go nuts.” He deposited a hot, sucking kiss on my jaw.
I held my breath, so I didn’t groan. As soon as his lips lifted, I spun to face him, my hand locked and loaded with a mountain of bubbles. “No cake?”
His eyes were huge as I smashed my palm into his face, bubbles flying in all directions.
He spit and sputtered. “You did not just shove soap in my mouth.” He released me and backed up, bumping into the island.
“What’s that?” I batted my eyes innocently. “You were telling me we’re not going to have adumbwedding cake? You want pretzels instead of adumbwedding cake? I have been planning this wedding my whole life.”
