Page 41 of Wicked Love

This new version of me was nothing like the previous one, where I was a carefree bachelor, but I was beginning to like him a lot.

11

GRACE

The next two weeks passed in a blur. In between strolling around town and entering Christmas-themed activities, Joe and I were busy.

I knew he had talked with Philip twice and promised his father we were doing fine.

I mostly worked on schoolwork during the day, and at night, when we stayed in, we played board games or watched some TV by the fireplace, DH nestled in the middle, forcing us apart. When we went out, we explored the town or drove around for hours just for the pleasure of discovering new places we’d never visited before.

So far, Joe and I had been good at keeping things platonic between us. We had learned to stop touching each other and always stayed at least two feet apart. And until now, it worked fine.

“Are you ready to win?” I asked him as we sat on opposite sides of our designated table for the Gingerbread Decorating Contest.

“I never lose, baby.”

I had no idea if it was a slip of the tongue or Joe really meant to call me baby, but no matter what, it sent a zing through me. Everyone in town thought we were dating, and neither of us ever took the time to deny it. We just rolled with it and embraced the anonymity this town offered. Like in that bar the night we met, we could be anyone we wanted to be here. Damn the consequences.

Status of our relationship: undefined.

“I’m in charge of the icing,” I said.

“You are?”

“Yep. This white thing can’t resist me. I’ll put so much of it, filling every crack that our house will never crumple. And eat whatever is left because it tastes delicious.”

“And what will you do when you get that white stuff all over your hands? Please enlighten me.”

“I’ll lick it clean. I wasn’t allowed icing when I was little. I need to make the most of it while I can. It’s my birthday soon. I deserve a treat.” I dipped a finger into the bowl in front of me and brought it to my mouth as if to prove a point. With swirls of my tongue, I clean my digit. “See. All good now.”

Joe said nothing, and when I met his gaze, he appeared like he was about to eat me up alive.

I melted a little in my seat.

His tongue swept his lips, and I got entranced by the movement.

Why wasn’t he looking away?

“Are you all right? What’s going on?”

He shook his head, his pupils dilated, as we faced each other. “Grace, you have a fucking dirty mouth, and you’re not even aware.”

“Oh…” Everything I just said bounced back inside my head. I cupped my mouth. “Oops.”

“Yeah.” He brought his forefinger and thumb almost together. “I’m this close to blowing a gasket. You are driving me nuts. And it’s a dangerous territory you’re entering.”

“I didn’t…I was… See, I thought—”

The man with the mic, standing in front of the small room, cut us off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our annual Gingerbread Decorating Contest. Each team has everything they might need in front of them. Cookies, house parts, icing, candies. You have one hour to come up with the most incredible designs. Are you ready?”

Everyone said Yes.

“You know how lucky I am to be teamed up with a future designer?” Joe asked.

“I thought it was because of my filthy mouth.” My cheeks warmed up as I held his heavy gaze.