“Well, I like the lights, too, of course,” I begin, moving on to open the next box of ornaments. “But I think the part I love the most is my mom’s cookies.”
“If they’re anything like her pie, I can see why,” Luke chuckles.
“Oh, her pies might as well be made of mud for how good her cookies are.” My mouth is watering now just thinking of them. “She makes the best sugar cookies you’ll ever eat.”
“Better than the bakery next door to the gym?” Luke asks skeptically.
“Athousandtimes better,” I argue. “Those cookies have that hard frosting on them that I don’t like. It makes the cookies pretty, but it doesn’t really taste like anything, and it’s hard to bite into. Mom’s cookies stay perfectly soft. And she makes her own frosting that’s also soft. So it’s not like biting into an adorable rock.”
Luke finishes his garland and steps back to admire his work. Hands on his hips, he tilts his head and makes a few adjustments that don’t seem to make any discernable difference, but oncehe’s satisfied, he shoots me a proud grin. Who is this man, and how is he stealing my heart so quickly?
“I think I need to taste these cookies and judge for myself,” he says, plopping back down on the floor next to me and getting to work unraveling a strand of lights next.
“Oh, is that a challenge?” I tease, searching the floor for my phone. “I’ll text Mom right now and get the recipe. Prepare to be ruined for any other cookies.”
An hour later, the tree is lit, I’ve ordered grocery delivery for the ingredients that weren’t already in the kitchen, and we decide to take a break from the tree so I can bake cookies. I’ve never attempted to make these on my own, and between Luke stealing bits of dough and my mom giving directions via speaker phone, I’m quickly regretting this decision.
“Why is the dough so gritty?” Luke mumbles around a mouthful.
“It’s supposed to be like that, dear,” my mom’s voice answers. “It’s not a roll-out recipe, you see, it’s a thumbprint recipe. But I didn’t know the difference when the kids were little; they just wanted to make Christmas cookies, so I opened up my cookbook and found a sugar cookie recipe. The difference is in the preparation?—”
“Would you stop eating all the dough?” I hiss so that my mom can’t hear, grabbing the spoon right out of Luke’s hand as he goes in for another scoop. “There won’t even be enough left to bake at this rate.”
There’s that pout again. I lean over and nip at his plush lower lip, tugging it between my teeth, and he yelps in surprise.
“Oh no, what was that?” my mom asks, concerned. “One of y’all didn’t step on Aggie, did you?”
I snort a laugh, and Luke claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “No, Mom, Aggie’s at daycare still,” I assure her. “I think Igot this from here, just need to cut the shapes and put them in the oven. Thanks for all your help.”
“Anytime, sweetheart, you know I’m happy to help.” That’s definitely true. I probably made her day calling and asking about this, and I feel a pang of guilt again that I don’t call more often. I’ve been so wrapped up in the stress of getting kicked out of my place and then the excitement of moving in here that I haven’t made the time.
We say our goodbyes (but not before Mom reminds me not to put too much milk in the frosting or it will be too runny), and I quickly roll out the dry, “gritty” dough and stamp Christmas trees and reindeer and Santa hat shapes into it before popping them into the oven.
“We’ll do the frosting while the cookies are cooling,” I explain as I turn back around after setting the timer…just in time to see Luke sucking a finger into his mouth. I have no doubt that finger had a scoop of dough on it, and I tackle him around the middle. “You asshole!” I shout, but I can’t even pretend to be mad through all the laughter. He’s squirming and trying half-heartedly to push me off of him, and we wrestle each other the few steps from the kitchen to the couch, where he tumbles to his back and I land on top of him.
“I can’t help it!” he cries between fits of laughter. “You were right, okay?! The cookies are good!”
“You haven’t even had them yet!” I protest, grabbing him by the wrists and pinning his arms above his head. I’m a pretty strong guy, and we don’t have a massive size difference, but he could throw me off if he really wanted to. As usual, though, he turns pliant beneath me, melting into the couch. I lean down and touch the tip of my nose to his. Just barely. “What am I going to do with you, hm?” I murmur, letting my voice drop an octave. “I asked you so many times not to eat the dough, and of course you didn’t listen.”
He smirks back at me in an attempt at defiance, but his body tells me a different story as he relaxes even more beneath my weight on him. The strand of Christmas lights he’d been working on when the grocery delivery arrived catches my eye. “Maybe I’ll tie you up in that string of lights and leave you here to think about what you’ve done while the cookies bake,” I threaten, squeezing his wrists for emphasis. “Like the naughty boy you are.”
His wide grin tells me that wouldn’t be much of a punishment at all.
I sigh and release him, rolling off the couch and holding my hand out to him. “Come on, naughty boy. Let’s finish the tree before the cookies are done.”
23
RILEY
“You nervous?” I ask, arranging the pillows against the headboard and wriggling around until I find a spot that’s comfortable. I’m naked except for a red jockstrap that matches the one Luke is currently looking delicious in. The way the straps accentuate the perfect, round globes of his ass and the deep dimples in his lower back makes my mouth water. Luke has the most incredible ass of any man I’ve ever seen. My boy has no business being cheeked up like that. It’s distracting.
After we released our sexy Christmas decorating video to Fanboy, we couldn’t ignore the fans’ speculation any longer. I should’ve known that video would tip them off that Luke and I are living together, and maybe subconsciously, I wanted them to know. I’m proud to call him my boyfriend, and even though we weren’t hiding it, exactly, I’m glad it’s out in the open now. Or it’s about to be.
To celebrate the new year, Jess suggested we do a live Q&A on Luke’s Fanboy page…together. I’ve never done anything live before, and I agreed immediately. Luke was a little more apprehensive, which surprised me since he’s spent most of his life in front of the camera. But I think the magnitude of it allstarted to really hit us both as we started advertising it on our social media, and the excited comments started rolling in. Jess put Luke’s subscription on half price leading up to tonight, and I don’t pay much attention to the numbers and whatnot, but if the way Luke has been obsessively checking them is any indication, subs are up.
“Nah, I’m fine,” Luke says breezily, adjusting the strap on his jock and checking himself out in the mirror. I’m not sure I believe him, but I let it slide. I don’t want to call him out and make him even more anxious. “How about you? Nervous?”
“I think I’m more excited than nervous. This is like our official announcement that we’re a couple. It’s weird to know that people are this interested in us—inme.I’m just a nobody from Oklahoma.”
