Page 72 of Not Your Average Vixen
He groaned. “The wedding isn’t until Christmas Eve. That’s three days away!”
“Right, and I need to make sure the cake is ready. Plus, I’m preparing a croquembouche for the rehearsal dinner, and that’s no small feat. So, we have to get the wedding cake done a couple of days early,” she answered, wrapping a towel around her body.
“Croak-um-what?” he exclaimed.
“It’s a French dessert, and it’s on the schedule. Now, open my bag and hand me my bra, a pair of panties, my black leggings, and the red flannel shirt dress.”
“You want me to get into your bag?” he griped.
Touchy, touchy!
“What else are you doing?” she threw back.
“Fine!” he huffed.
She tightened the towel and peeked out the half-opened door and found him holding up two of her G-strings, one black and one red.
“What are you doing with my underwear?”
“I’m deciding which ones match the bra,” he answered.
“Just pick a pair!” she snapped.
“I don’t spend a lot of time picking out women’s undergarments. I’m more of a rip-them-off kind of guy.”
She knew that.
“Go with the black,” she said, waving for him to hurry the hell up.
“No, red,” he countered, gathering the items she’d requested.
She pinned him with her gaze. “Are we going to fight about everything?”
“Don’t you like fighting with me?” he answered, handing her the pile of clothing.
She channeled her make-believe vixen. “I’d like it if you got on board withthis wedding.”
“What have I actually done to hamperthis wedding?” he threw back.
That was easy.
She narrowed her gaze. “Hookers.”
His lips curled into an amused, surly expression. “They were dancers. What besides that?”
She racked her brain. “Nothing I can think of off the top of my head. And that’s how it’s going to stay because—”
“Because you’re not letting me out of your sight,” he finished.
She dressed, then left the bathroom to find her boots. “Exactly.”
“You look nice,” he said, then crossed his arms then looked away as if he regretted paying her a compliment.
She tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling exposed—no, not exposed, seen.
“Thank you.”
Whatever this was, it boomeranged between loathing, tenderness, and straight-up animal attraction. The buzz from going toe to toe with him made her head spin. It gave her a feisty sharpness as if she really were a vixen.
