Page 208 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

No snarky comment. No denial.

Only…simple acceptance.

George dried the dishes while I scrubbed. He was meticulous about it, holding each dish up for inspection, hunting for stray water droplets. When he found them he’d squint and scrub each drop to submission before he set them to the side on the drying rack. There was something soseriouslyadorable about howseriouslyhe took such a basic task.

When I’d finished washing the last dish—and boy, did I need to put some elbow grease into that bad boy—I pulled the plug and let the dirty-soapy water drain.Gluggingaway, the suds sucked down the pipe while I turned the faucet on.

It was so sickeningly, wonderfully domestic I could hardly breathe.

And the companionable silence was a double-edged sword. Because I could not fucking stop thinking about what he’d done for me yesterday—or what he’d said to me about the masks I wore.

I needed a distraction.

Stat.

After cleaning my hands, I playfully flicked some water George’s way. He flinched, set the pan he was drying down, and swiveled to glower at me.

“Did you justsplashme?” George sounded as indignant as he was surprised. Like he simply could not fathom the fact I’d do something so terribly horrible as flicking water at him. Jesus Christ, he was such a cat.

“So what if I did?” I teased, flicking water at him again. “What are you gonna do about it?” It was a challenge, as much as it was a taunt.

He looked so adorably offended, I simply couldn’t help myself. I was, however, not prepared for George’s response. Because he grabbed one of the freshly cleaned spatulas from the counter, raised it above his head—and with an evil glint in his lovely, dark blue gaze, began to beat my back mercilessly.

“Ah!” I gasped, batting him away to no avail. It didn’t hurt. More of a tickle, than anything. The damn thing was plastic, after all. But still. As the sweet crooning of the music on the speakers morphed into something more upbeat, George’s smacking began to match its rhythm.

A metronome of rage.

“Splash me again, motherfucker,” George aimed the spatula at my ass. “See what happens.”Smack, smack.He wanted to see it jiggle, the little slut. I choked on a chuckle that quickly evolved into full-blown guffaws. Skidding away from the never-ending barrage on socked feet, I barely managed to avoid another swing.

George was not deterred.

In fact, my fleeing only seemed to egg him on.

Rather than stop and concede defeat, he gave chase.

What George lacked in athleticism he made up with sheer force of will.

His socked feet skidded on the tile as he stalked me around the center island, spatula raised threateningly. His lean chest heaved with every breath. When he finally caught up to me—I maybe-possibly had intentionally slowed enough to allow him close—he whacked my ass again. A maniacal giggle escaped his mouth, eyes gleaming with mischief as I scurried away andhe chased me around the island for a second time.

Five smacks to the ass—that was the price I paid to get my hands under the faucet again. The second my “ammo” had been “loaded”, I began flicking my fingers at George with vengeance.

“You sneaky little shit!” I cackled, flick, flick, flicking away. Pretending like I hadn’t let him catch me because it was more fun that way. “Take that!”

“Gah!” George’s spatula smacked at my chest in retaliation, because of course it did—kinky fucker liked my tits. “Fuck you! You giant titty-ass bitch.”

Flick, flick, flick.

“Giant titty-ass bitch?” I echoed, amused. Was that his idea of an insult? Cute.

I loaded up on more water?—

George abandoned the fight and scrambled away, water droplets slipping down his cheeks and chin, and dotting the collar of his borrowed shirt. Apparently, it was my turn to chase now. Laughing all the way, I stalked after him, dripping fingers wriggling.

“Fucker—” George hissed, slip-sliding on the tile. He bonked into the corner of the counter, a pained hiss escaping.

“Are you okay?” My smile faltered.

“I’m fine!” He grabbed a dish towel and launched it at me, instigating the chase once again.

---