Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
A snicker popped out of me. “What can I say? This holiday does funny things to me. And to my mom, actually. That’s just how it goes. Buckle up. This is your life now.”
He grumbled something beneath his breath, but I didn’t miss the spark of amusement in his eyes.
“Just think, Halloween will be over in a few hours.” I twisted my mouth as I contemplated whether to give him a heads-up that I was even worse at Christmas …
Nah.
“And thank God for that,” he muttered.
With a haughty look, I gestured at my Wednesday Addams outfit. “You’re just jealous because you so want one of these costumes.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice dry as the desert, “It’s been on my birthday list for decades.”
I felt my lips split into a smile. “Ooh, sarcasm suits you. I want to see more of this. You totally work it.”
Seemingly fighting an eye roll, he heaved a good-natured sigh.
He’d been gifting me with similar sighs ever since I shook up our villa’s décor with my Halloween decorations a few nights ago. The poor guy seemed to have expected me to merely hang up the occasional garland and maybe set out a few props. He hadn’t been prepared for the fake cobwebs, strings of pumpkin lights, hanging ghosts, plentiful amount of votive candles, or the plastic spiders I’d attached to the windows.
The singing cauldron hadn’t gone down well with him either. Or the fake cat skeletons. Or the spooky lanterns.
And when he’d walked outside the next morning to find several pumpkins, tombstones, and dismembered body parts in the front yard, he’d done a double-take.
I’d offered to take some, if not all, of the decorations down—both inside and outside. But he had shaken his head and said, “I can handle them for three days.”
He’d commented no more about the decorations. Except for the cauldron, which he’d threatened to trash if I didn’t permanently switch it off because he was “done” listening to a creepy voice repeatedly sing about a wicked witch being dead. I’d called him a whiner but had turned it off nevertheless.
“Let’s eat before our food gets cold.” He pulled the stainless steel covers off our plates, filling the air with the scents of hot meat, tomatoes, and garlic.
Fairly salivating, I dragged the yummy smells into my lungs. “I’m starving.”
“I don’t know how you could possibly be hungry when you’ve been stuffing candy down your throat practically all day.”
“Candy isn’t filling.” I grabbed my glass of wine from the counter. “You don’t need to put my plate on the table, I’m going to eat in the living room tonight.”
His brow creased slightly. “Why?”
“Because that’s where the TV is.”
“And?”
“And I’ve reached my it’s-horror-movie-time portion of the evening.”
Another self-suffering sigh. “Right.”
Even as I knew he’d turn the offer down, I suggested, “You should join me. Take a peek into my world. See how the TV can be used for more than merely watching live sports.”
Exasperation tinged with humor once more flickered in his gaze.
“Come on, it won’t be the worst thing ever. Or do you have a hate-on for scary flicks?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind them. Though I’ve yet to watch one that is actually scary.”
Feeling my lips curve, I latched onto his wrist without thought. “Oh, my friend, some do exist, I swear. Allow me to educate you.”
Dax glanced down at where I’d wrapped my fingers around his wrist. Feeling awkward, I was about to release him. But then he twisted his hand, joined our palms, and tugged me closer. “What’s my incentive?” he asked, gently bumping the tip of his nose against mine.
I double-blinked at his unexpected move, my belly going all aflutter. “Uh, what?”
He loosely fisted the end of one of my braids. “I’m going to need an incentive,” he said, adopting his bedroom voice, conveying what the nature of the enticement would need to be.
My hormones perking right up, I said, “Fine, I’ll … um, I’ll ride you on the sofa when the movies are over.”
His gaze narrowed. “Movies plural?”
“Well, of course. I mean, it’s Halloween.”
“Funnily enough, I’d noticed,” he deadpanned.
Snorting, I rolled my eyes, not quite managing to bite back a smile. “Are you going to join me or not?”
Letting out a long hum, he idly curled my braid around his fist. “All right.”
I felt my lips part. “You will? Really? I thought you’d say no.”
“You only asked because you thought I’d decline?”
“No, I asked on the off-chance that—for once—you’d do your civic duty as my husband and watch TV with me.”
His mouth tipped up. “My civic duty?”
“Yes. You’ve neglected it thus far. You should really correct the oversight.”
He released my hair. “Hmm, then let’s wheel the trolley into the living room so I can get started on that.”
“Boom,” I said, delighted. “I’ll carry our glasses.”
I thought he’d sit apart from me, but he settled at my side on the sofa—our plates balanced on the cushions we placed on our laps. “Have you seen The Conjuring 2?”