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“You got your food in already?”

I slid my eyes to the side. “Um, before last night, that was on today’s agenda.”

He stood. “And you were giving me shit about shopping on Christmas Eve last night?”

“I forgot. Now I’m starving, and for more than your cock, so, I’m just saying, you’re cordially invited to my feast.”

“Will it be good?”

That earned him a pointed look. “I don’t eat bad food.”

“But can you cook?”

“Yes. Not all of the brunch recipes are Lark’s idea, you know.”

“You got beer?”

“No.”

“You like wine?”

“Yes, but only with certain food, and if I find a decent rack of lamb or standing rib roast for my feast, I’ll need a snazzy bottle of dry red wine.”

“For cooking or drinking?”

“Both.”

He stared at me for a beat. “I’m looking forward to Christmas for the first time all year. Costco, here we come.”

I couldn’t hold back my sass. “For the hundred-count box, right?”

“Woman, you are trouble.”

My head tilted. “But you called me a good girl last night.”

“You don’t get moving, I’m gonna show you what happens to bad girls, and spoiler - it’ll leave you on edge.”

Edging did not sound like something I wanted to try. Not with him or at least not yet. “Okay. I’ll get dressed.”

I’d forgotten how great it was to shop with a biker. I didn’t like why it was great which was because so many judgey people gave bikers a very wide berth. As Tundra and I navigated the aisles of Costco, lots of people all but scurried out of our way. The same thing happened whenever I hit the grocery store with my dad back in Biloxi. Part of me could get used to this…but we only had three and a half days and this was temporary.

I also loved shopping with Tundra because he had the same attitude as Dad - though the holiday may have had something to do with it. If I even touched a product, he said, “Put it in the cart, babe.”

Looking at the cart now, the money from last night’s tip jar would be gone fast.

Also, it looked like we’d be having a feast tonight and tomorrow because Tundra insisted on the rack of lamb and a beef tenderloin.

I glanced up at him after he added the beef to the cart. “We’re gonna have to cook tonight and tomorrow because I don’t think I can handle that much meat in one day.”

He gave me a devious look. “You can when it’s my meat.”

“Ba-dum-bum,” I muttered with a smile.

“You drink eggnog?” he asked.

“I can.”

“Got that bottle of rum at your place,” he murmured.