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“I don’t know. Only one way to find out.”
“Okay. But maybe in a minute.”
“You two okay down here?” Ollie ducked into our makeshift fort. God help me, my stomach flipped just looking at him.
“We’re fine,” I said, smiling up at him. “Discussing the Cuban Missile Crisis.”
“Ah. As one does.” He glanced between us. “Is this a no-boys-allowed club, or can I join?”
“You can only come in if you play with us,” Tillie said primly.
“Cuban Missile Crisis?”
“No.” I laughed. “Would You Rather.”
He crawled inside and laid down opposite me, looking absurdly large under the table. Tillie scooted into my side, and I tucked her close as Frank croonedHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmasoverhead.
“Alright, Tillie. Your turn.”
She sighed, like she was entertaining children. “Would you rather build a fort or bake cookies?”
Ollie groaned and clutched his chest. “Ihave tochoose?”
“Yep.”
“It can’t be both?”
“Nope. That defeats the whole point,” Tillie chirped.
“If Ihaveto pick, I’m going with cookies. Because then we get to eat them.”
“Leighton?”
“I’m with your daddy,” I said without hesitation. And maybe it was my imagination, but then the cheeky bastard had to smile at me like I’d said something a hell of a lot bigger than an answer to the game. I smiled back and gave him a little nod.Yeah, big guy. I’m with you.
“I’m going with cookies too,” Tillie decided.
“Really?” I tickled her side. “I’m surprised.”
“You do like your forts,” Ollie pointed out.
“But if you two are doing cookies together, I want to bake too.”
Cue lump in throat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You work well together. You’re… glowy.”
“Glowy?” Ollie asked.
“Like Christmas lights. Not loud. Just… happy.” She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds dumb.”
“No,” Ollie scoffed, the grin stretching his face permeating his sexy voice. “That’s not dumb. My turn?”
“Yep.”
With his eyes on me, Ollie asked, “Candlelit dinner or breakfast in bed?”
“Why would I eat dinner with candles?” Tillie wrinkled her nose. “That seems unsafe.”