Page 3 of Christmas Bubble

“Why?”

He huffs and mumbles under his breath as he holds out the box, “You didn’t need to bake the most delicious cream-filled Shaabiyat just for me, Bubble. But I’ll take it anyway and devour every bite of your specially-made gastronomical orgy.”

I stare at him and then burst into laughter. “Did you just saygastronomical orgy?”

“Open the box, and you’ll find out.”

I do, and I’m immediately teased with the scent of orange, rose, and buttery, flakey pastry.

“What is this?”

“I told you. It’s Shaabiyat. I saw the recipe on a blog.”

“Shay-what?”

“Never mind. Have a bite and tell me if it doesn’t taste like the swinging sixties are making a return in your mouth.”

I raise a brow. “What do you know about the sixties? You’re a kid.”

He shakes his head, kissing his teeth. “Oh, Coach, Coach, Coach…I could show you aaall the ways in which I’m definitely not a kid. Just say the word, and I’ll give you a free ticket to the Bubble's Privates Member Club.”

I snort. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

His gaze runs again from my eyes to the tips of my shoes. My winter coat suddenly feels too hot as Bubble’s eyes travel to mine again. I feel exposed in ways I can’t explain or understand.

“Am I?” he asks in a sultry voice, and I swear my dick reacts.

What the fuck?

Maybe it’s the cold. It’s getting to my head.

“I should get home,” I say, pointing at my car.

He moves around me, leaving a waft of strawberry scent in the air.

“Think of me when you’re licking the cream off…” He nods to the box in my hand. He walks toward the building for his cheerleading practice with strangely compelling confidence.

The kid can’t even be thirty yet, but he walks and talks like he’s sussed out the world and found it ripe for his taking.

2

BUBBLE

I clapmy hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, my supple cupcakes, let’s nail this pyramid like you’re a soft-serve ice cream.”

“Melting in the sun, leaving your hands all creamy and sticky?” one kid says.

The entire team laughs. Even Justin, the assistant coach. I elbow him, and he snorts.

“No, we want a good sturdy base, a nice swirl, and those perfect cherries on top. Girls, are you ready?”

They get into formation, and I press play on the stereo. Music with a steady beat fills the large room. This routine isn’t new, but I tweaked the ending. I know it’ll push them a little out of their comfort zone, but I have faith. We’re focusing on pyramid lifts today, which will be tough on them.

It takes the full practice to get it right, but they do it. Not that I had any doubt.

A year ago, this high school didn’t even have a cheerleading team. And now they’re well on their way to reaching the level needed to compete at the cheerleading high school nationals if they want to.

“Gather round my little muffins of amazingness,” I call out to them as I turn the music off.