Page 234 of Wild Then Wed
He just nods in response. Barely.
Miller turns toward him with an exaggerated sigh. “Joey, pretend to have some decent manners so I look like a good sister.”
He smirks and says, “Merry Christmas, Lark.”
Ridge hops off the chair he’d been lounging in and lets out a low whistle, eyes sweeping Miller from head to heels. “Well, well. Christmas just got a little hotter this year.”
She rolls her eyes. “Boone, can you get your dog-of-a-brother neutered?”
Boone doesn’t even look up. “Nope.”
Ridge grins. “Woof woof.”
Joey snorts, and Miller immediately whips around and narrows her eyes at him. “Rule number one,” she says, pointing at Ridge, “don’t laugh at anything he says.Ever.”
Ridge slings an arm over Joey’s shoulders. He stiffens a little but doesn’t pull away. If anything, he looks up at Ridge like he’s already kind of intrigued by him. It’s the effect that Ridge has on everybody.
“I didn’t know Millie had a brother,” Ridge says. He sticks out a hand. “Ridge Wilding.”
Joey looks at the hand for a second, then shakes it. “Joey.”
“Joey,” Ridge repeats, nodding solemnly, then starts walking off with him like they’ve got decades of friendship to catch up on. “Solid name. Very trustworthy. Now level with me—what was it like growing up with a demon as a sister? You can tell me. I’m a safe space.”
Miller yanks Joey’s arm and tugs him back toward her possessively. “Ohno.He’s not getting corrupted on my watch.”
Joey grins, just a little. Not wide. But enough to tell me he’s already starting to somewhat like it here.
Ridge pouts dramatically. “What makes you think I’d corrupt him, Millie?”
Miller gives him a pointed once-over. “Let’s start with the sweater.”
Boone snorts. Joey actually laughs—quiet and quick, but real. Ridge looks down at the glittery red lettering across his chest and his bedazzled nipples, then up at all of us with a shrug. “Oh, you mean this old thing?”
Before anyone can say anything else, Mom walks in carrying a fresh tray of cookies. She doesn’t even pretend to aim for subtlety when she spots Joey.
“Well, who’s this handsome young man?” she asks with a grin, already walking toward him.
Joey straightens a little. “Joey Ashford. Um. Merry Christmas, I guess.”
“Please,” she says, pulling him into a hug before he can escape it, “you can call me Molly. And Merry Christmas to you, honey.”
He freezes for half a second, then kind of melts into it—stiffly, like he’s not used to being hugged.
“Have you met my grandson, Hudson, yet?” she asks when she pulls back.
Right on cue, Hudson wanders in from the kitchen, mid-cookie. He wipes his fingers on his jeans before sticking out his hand. “Hi. You like baseball?”
Joey nods, shaking his hand. “I like any sport, really.”
Hudson’s grin widens. “Cool. I’ve got a bunch of old baseball cards and someSports Illustratedmags. You wanna see?”
Joey nods again, and Hudson’s already turning, waving for him to follow. “I’ll show you my Ken Griffey rookie. My dad says it’s worth a bunch, but I accidentally bent the corner last year so it probably lost some of the value.”
Joey hesitates for just a second before following. He glances once over his shoulder toward Miller, but she doesn’t say anything. Just gives him a small nod and watches them go upstairs, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes softening slightly.
Mom walks back over and pulls Miller into a hug. “Merry Christmas, Mills.”
Miller hugs her back, a little one-shouldered. “Thanks. You too, Molly.”
