I grin. Just thinking about Dutton seems to do that to me. When I left, he was still curled up in our bed, his hair all mussedfrom last night, and it was hard to pry myself away. “Still asleep, probably.”
Oakley shakes his head as if he’s disappointed that anyone would want to sleep in today. Though looking at his husband, I’d say Travis would much rather be at home in bed instead of being in a busy store at the moment.
“Just had to grab a couple of presents.”
“He left you in charge?” Oakley asks, the surprise in his voice evident.
Travis nudges him. “I’m sure Walker is perfectly capable.”
“Damn right,” I say stubbornly, though Dutton sent me here to grab a present for Amber, Gabe’s five-year-old daughter, and I don’t really know what the hell to get her. But I grabbed a Barbie—surely she’ll like that. I hold up the doll in triumph, and both men give me a nod that says it’s acceptable.
“Gabe and Shelly are going to kill us. All that stuff they are going to have to haul home tonight.”
I grin. “Well, everyone else is just going to have to get on with giving us more kids to spoil then.” I can’t resist waggling my eyebrows in their direction. “You two have any news to share?”
Travis shakes his head adamantly. “I already have a kid,” he says, gesturing toward Oakley, who doesn’t look offended at all and wraps his beefy arm around his husband’s shoulders.
“You know you want to have my babies.”
“Do I need to explain biology to you again?” Travis deadpans, but Oakley is just Oakley and happily tosses his head back with a laugh.
“Doesn’t hurt to try.” Leaning in to Travis’s ear, he nips playfully on the lobe. “A. Lot. I think we should go home and give it a go.”
Travis pushes him away, his cheeks turning a little pink, which is funny because I’ve heard Oakley say way worse things over the years in his attempts to make his husband blush. “Not achance. Too much to do.” Travis looks at me. “What are you up to today? Can I bribe you to clean the house?”
“Sorry, boss,” I laugh, holding my hands up. “Gotta go pick out a tree with Dutton.”
“What?” Oakley is horrified, his question delivered at a loud volume. “You don’t have a Christmas tree yet?”
Travis rolls his eyes at Oakley’s way over-the-top reaction before I answer, “My boyfriend is in high demand this holiday season. He’s the only photographer around, and there are so many kids who need their pictures taken with Santa.”
He still looks absolutely horrified. “You don’t have a Christmas tree.”
“Relax. I’m on it,” I say. Travis pats his chest placatingly, and I laugh at them. “I’ll see you all at the party. Sorry I couldn’t help ya.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Travis grumbles but gives me a smile and a wave before I whistle all the way to the register to pay for the doll and a gift bag because I don’t know the first thing about wrapping this thing either.
I wasn’t kidding about Dutton being booked since before Halloween with picture shoots. Everyone’s trying to get the perfect picture for their holiday cards. At first, I’d worried it would kill his soul—I mean, he used to photograph runway models for high-fashion magazines—but honestly, he seems happier than ever. Showing off his work now, his eyes are always bright with pride and happiness.
So I don’t waste too much time worrying about it. Gotta keep it simple, after all, and life with Dutton has been blissfully that. Beyond perfect.
I make it home and remove my gloves, hat, and coat, my skin still prickly from the cold wind just from the walk from my truck to the house. I know Oakley is planning to have us out by the firepit tonight, and I’m worried we might die.
But you can’t convince Oakley to change his mind on that one. He’s a big kid. Hell of a boss though.
At least it’s not snowing.
I kick my boots off by the door and head back to the bedroom of the big old house. I don’t find Dutton in the bed though, the sheets all rumpled but empty. I feel a hint of disappointment, having had a pretty good idea about how to wake him up, but then I hear the shower running, and a smile lights up my face as I quickly strip down.
When I open the bathroom door, it’s pretty steamy inside. But I can make out the outline of my perfect boyfriend standing in the large shower with water sluicing down over his toned body.
I quickly strip out of the rest of my clothes and open the door. He doesn’t look surprised in the slightest when he turns to face me. His lips quirk in a smirk. “Did you find a gift?”
“Of course,” I say, overconfident and cocky, but I know he secretly likes that about me. I climb into the shower and grab the body wash, soaping up my hands and immediately lathering him up, even though I think he was already almost finished in here. “Ready to get filthy?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows when he turns toward the shower spray.
“I was already all squeaky clean.”
I grip his shoulders before letting my hands run over the firm muscle of his upper arms and then down to his forearms. “But you’re totally fine getting dirty again, right?”
