Page 53 of Not Your Average Vixen
Self-control.
Two important qualities his parents never possessed.
Entitled.
Selfish.
Thoughtless.
Careless.
Those were more emblematic words to describe his family if you could call it that.
He crossed his arms. “Why don’t you eat a sandwich?” he said, going into scrooge mode.
“I’m good sticking with the gummy bears. They aren’t half bad. They’ve got an earthy cinnamon flavor to them. I’ll have to ask Tanner for the recipe,” she answered, eating another, then doing a little twirl in front of him.
He frowned. “When was the last time you ate a real meal?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Define, a real meal.”
“We know you didn’t have dinner.”
“Nope,” she answered with another twirl.
His one-night vixen had mellowed out quite a bit.
He huffed an exasperated breath. “What are you doing, Bridget?”
“Dancing,” she replied, enunciating the syllables slowly as if she were addressing an idiot, then took his hand and twirled underneath it. It was a bizarrely charming move.
He’d never met anyone like her.
“Why are you dancing?” he pressed as “White Christmas” ended, and Bing started in on “God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman.”
She pointed at the oven. “It’s for the cookies.”
“You’re dancing for lumps of sugar and peanut butter?”
“No, I’m injecting joyful Christmas spirit into them,” she answered, then swiped the oven mitt off the counter and threw it at him.
He snapped it out of the air with one hand. “Are you on something?”
She frowned with her hands on her hips. “No, I’ve never done drugs in my entire life. I barely drink. But I do dance for anything I bake.”
He walked across the kitchen and set the mitt on the counter. “Is this why you got fired? Did you freak out the people in the bakery with your prancing and dancing?”
She beckoned with her index finger for him to come closer.
“I know what you’re doing,” she whispered with a sly hint of a grin.
He schooled his features. “Yeah, what’s that?”
“You’re trying to scrooge your way out of dancing. But I’m not about to let you get yourbah humbugvibe into my cookies.”
“Your cookies didn’t mind mybah humbugvibe last night,” he replied, pretty damn pleased with that retort.
Unfazed, she wagged her finger at him and clucked her tongue. “See, you’re trying to upset me. You think that if you act like a real scrooge, I won’t make you dance.”
