Page 9 of Missiletoe
“Okay,” I said and began to push myself up, but my arms were shaky, and I fell back down.
That happens to me sometimes after a huge crash. My body just takes its sweet-ass time catching up with the rest of me after I wake up. Sometimes I get hallucinations too. Paris was dreamy enough to be one of those, but since Baz was talking to him too, I was pretty sure he was real.
I finally noticed what I’d been lying in when I plopped back down on it. “Wait, is this a dog bed?”
“I didn’t have a better place to put you, bunny. I’m sorry.” Paris rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect! Baz, we have to get one for every room in the house! And the porch, and all the cars, and…” I continued to list off all the places I regularly passed out in, and Baz whipped out his phone and began to write them all down.
“You own a warehouse?” Paris asked. He seemed to be vacillating between grumpy and fascinated.
I preferred him being fascinated, so I answered eagerly, sitting back up and flailing my arms to keep Paris’s attention on me and not Baz. “Yes, it’s where I keep all my inventions. Well, the big ones anyway.”
“TMI, Vix,” Baz warned.
Oops. I forgot. No telling outsiders about the warehouse of mass destruction.
Time to bust out my excellent lying-with-the-truth skills.
“And they are all completely normal and not dangerous inventions. Only very helpful ones that are good for all humans. Like there’s this one,” I thought fast, trying to figure out how to describe my last projectandspin it into a positive light.
After discarding the first few ideas, I came up with the perfect explanation. “Ok, so you know how a lot of times a whole group of people catch on fire at once and you need to cool them down real fast? I have a machine that can cool up to fifty people down so fast it freezes them all solid. That way the paramedics can come and cart them all…to…mmph…shafety. Schtop trying to cover my…mmph.. mouth, Baz, I’m not f…mmph…inished explaining!” My body was smashed back down on the doggy bed under Baz’s weight.
Jesus. Baz hadn’t needed to wrestle me to the floor like that. It wasn’t like I’d told Paris my machine was for keeping our enemies from catching us when a job went south. Besides, they were always fine when they thawed out.
Mostly.
And because my incredible evasion tactics were elite, Paris nodded and said, “That makes sense. There aren’t enough people trying to make the world a better place.”
I freed my mouth from Baz’s grip and gave him my most lethal of puppy looks. It had an eighty-five percent success rate in getting me what I wanted, but it looked like that day was going to be the sucky fifteen percent because Baz hissed, “You can’t keep him!” right in my ear.
I winced because hissing is still loud when it’s right in your eardrum, and I began to struggle to get an arm free from Baz’s stranglehold on me with zero success. I didn’t have much fight in me because of the whole post-black-out weakness I was still experiencing, but even if I had, Baz still would have won. He fights dirty.
Just when I decided to give up, Baz’s dominant hand loosened from its grip on my shirt, and I managed to slip free.
I was about to grin triumphantly at Baz for my rarified success at defeating him but was stopped mid-smirk when I saw Paris hoist my partner in crime off me, catch Baz’s non-dominant hand, and tuck it inside the massive hand that was trapping Baz’s dominant one.
Baz looked at their hands in shock.
I looked at their hands in shock.
Paris looked at their hands in shock.
Then he shook himself, patted Baz on the head, and said, “Family shouldn’t fight.” Then he reached down, pulled me to a sitting position, and patted me on the head too.
My brain went swimmy, my spine went weak, and my dick decided it was a good time to remind me that we hadn’t had any action since last night and that I should get on top of that problem.
I bet Paris would give me the best dicking I’d ever had if Baz would just unclench enough to let it happen. Fat chance there though. Paris would be lucky if Baz didn’t tear him a new one for grabbing him like that.
I prepared myself to fling my body into the mix so Baz wouldn’t wreck the perfection of Paris’s everything, but something weird happened.
Baz didn’t struggle. After his initial shock, Baz’s face went soft, and his eyes lost his usualready-for-murderexpression. I wondered if Baz was popping wood like me, and for the first time in my life, I had the urge to do real harm to my soul brother.
You know what? I like that description better than brother friend, don’t you? Let’s go with soul brother from now on, okay? Okay, boldly forward.
Then Paris patted me again and the urge to do harm to my soul brother faded. I’d gotten two head pats to Baz’s one. That had to mean something, right?
Of course it didn’t. Baz was there, and out of the two of us, he was easily the most attractive.
