Brothers in Blue A Bryson Family Christmas - Jeanne St. James Page 0,53
muttered.
“You probably fell in love with me the moment our lips met.”
“I don’t remember you being drunk that night, nor are you drunk right now, so does dementia run in your family?”
“My parents are as sharp as tacks.”
“That they are, thankfully. So, you should remember how I resisted.”
His lips twisted. “You didn’t resist. I thought you would swallow me whole.”
“Bullshit,” she whispered as he lowered his head.
“You couldn’t get enough of me,” he murmured.
“I couldn’t get away from you fast enough.”
“Bullshit,” he echoed in a whisper as he dropped his lips to hers.
He closed the gap and she tolerated him kissing her for a few seconds... Okay, like a minute. Or two.
Until they heard the loud, deep clearing of a throat. That got Max’s tongue out of her mouth and back into his own, but he smiled against her lips. “If you ignore him, he’ll go away.”
“That didn’t work with you,” she whispered back.
“Your children are about to bust their seams waiting to open presents,” her father-in-law announced.
Max lifted his head. “Did Mom make breakfast?”
“You should have been here earlier if you wanted breakfast,” Ron told him sternly.
Max glanced at this watch. “It’s only eight.”
“And your children, along with your nephews and Greg, had your mother and me up at five in their excitement to see what Santa brought.”
“Is everybody else here?” Max asked his father. They already knew they weren’t because they hadn’t seen their cars parked outside. But, of course, Max was stubborn just like Ron, so her husband was making a point.
“Not yet. But they’re losing one present for every fifteen minutes they’re late. Except for Matt and Carly, since they’re dealing with an infant.”
“We should all get a late pass since we are dealing with your sons,” Amanda reminded Ron.
“I’ll take that into consideration. Now, your mother made a huge pot of coffee. There’s a French toast casserole and a quiche in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”
“Coffee and Ma’s food or our children, which is more important?” Max murmured in her ear.
“You have to ask?”
“Right. Let’s tiptoe to the kitchen, then.”
But they were spotted before they could stuff their gullets and get caffeinated.
“Dad!” Hannah sprinted across the living room to her father and glued herself to his front, pushing Amanda out of the way. “I’ve missed you!”
Amanda’s lips flattened out.
Max glanced at her over their daughter’s head, shot her a smug grin, then shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. “You know, kid, I’ll remember this moment when in six or seven years you come running to me screaming about how a boy is trying to come up the driveway to take you on a date and your father is standing on the deck with a shotgun in his hands.”
“He wouldn’t do that!”
“Oh, don’t you doubt it. And I’ll remember just how much you loved your daddy more than me.”
“Dad!”
Max chuckled. “We’ll see.”
Oliver ran up and glued himself to the only space left on Max’s body, the back of his thighs and ass, since Hannah wasn’t letting him go or willing to share the front with her little brother. “Daddy, you gonna do the same thing with me?”
“Nope,” Amanda answered their son. “The second the clock hits midnight on your eighteenth birthday he’s going to pack you up in a box and put you at the end of the driveway for UPS to pick you up and ship you out.”
“No, he won’t!” Oliver laughed, peeking at her from behind his father.
“No, I’ll wait until 12:01,” Max told his son, running a hand over his messy dark hair. “Were you good for your grandparents?”
He peeled off both children so he could walk into the living room where Ron was now settled in his recliner, sipping coffee with a gray-faced Chaos already laid out at his feet near the fire. Mary Ann was sitting with Greg on one of the couches, with a coffee mug in her hand, too.
Amanda hoped they hadn’t given Greg any coffee. Today was not a day for him to be wired out of his mind. There would be enough excitement already.
“Did you drink all the coffee, Bud, or did you leave some for us?” Amanda asked her brother. She needed to know in a roundabout way if she should prepare for activity overload. And if they should all wear bubble wrap to protect them from his flying arms.
“No! Grampa said... said no coffee for me.”
Oh, thank fuck. “Good idea, Grampa,” Amanda said catching Ron’s eyes and he winked at her knowingly.