Claimed by the Alien Bodyguard - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,77
seriously starting to question your tastes.”
“Maybe in food,” he said, smirking, “but my taste in females is perfect.”
Gabriela grinned. “Damn right, it is.”
They soon finished their hot chocolate, set the mugs on the coffee table, and snuggled together under a big blanket, though Broxen’s legs totally stuck out. He put one arm around Gabby’s shoulders as she leaned against his side, and the other around Ana as she snuggled against his opposite side.
They watched another movie after Elf, lounging and relaxing until well into the afternoon, when Gabriela declared it was finally time to make cookies. Ana came to serve as her assistant, and Broxen leaned on the counter, chatting with them as they worked. Ana insisted he have the first taste of the chocolate chip cookies when the first batch came out of the oven.
The cookie was soft, nearly falling apart as he picked it up, and the chocolate chips were gooey. He popped it into his mouth and groaned as he chewed. “Delicious.”
He reached for another one, but Gabriela gave his hand a little swat, making him pull it back in surprise.
“No more,” she said, smirking. “Everyone gets one now, then we make sure Santa gets his share tonight. We can eat whatever’s left after dinner.”
Broxen tilted his chin down and growled. His violet eyes took on a new glow as he held her gaze. “You’ll pay for that later, female.”
Gabriela’s cheeks warmed, and that now familiar desire coiled tight in her lower belly at the dark promise in his voice. She pressed her thighs together, but it did nothing to alleviate that needy ache.
Down, girl. Soon.
Once all the cookies were baked and set out to cool, Gabriela got to work on dinner, preparing arroz con pollo; chicken and rice. A quick and easy meal after a long, tiring, fulfilling day.
It’d been a wonderful day.
It was quiet as they ate dinner, but not because of any awkwardness or solemnity. Broxen and Ana both were scarfing down their food. He finished his third plate before he finally sat back in his chair and let out a satisfied sigh, and Ana had seconds—something Gabby couldn’t recalling having ever happened except with pizza, mac and cheese, or chicken nuggets. Though the girl did pick out all the green beans.
Broxen insisted on cleaning up after dinner since she’d done all the cooking. It was almost instinctual for Gabriela to brush that off and help anyway, but she decided to take the opportunity and get her shower done, instructing Ana to do the same.
She made the water as hot as she could bear and relished it long after she was done shaving and washing, for once allowing herself to feel no shame for indulging. The troubles that had begun the week seemed so distant, seemed like they’d occurred so long ago, and the future… Well, Gabby didn’t know what the future held, but she was thrilled by the possibilities in a way she hadn’t been since her teenage years, back when it seemed like the whole world was open to her.
Gabriela loved her daughter with all her heart, but she hadn’t realized just how alone she’d felt all these years. She hadn’t realized how big that missing piece of her life had become—not until Broxen had swooped in to fill it.
It was like she’d been waiting for him for all that time.
The fire was still crackling when she stepped out into the living room, and the Christmas tree was as bright as ever—even brighter, maybe, now that it was fully dark outside. Broxen and Ana—who must have taken the world’s fastest shower—were sitting across from each other at the dining table with the oldest game of Battleship Gabby had ever seen set up between them. Ana had a red case folded open in front of her, Broxen the blue.
He was hunched low over his game board, a deep frown on his lips, occasionally glancing over to Ana, who was idly swinging her legs as she waited.
“B-four,” Broxen said.
“Miss,” Ana replied sweetly.
With a huff, Broxen reached into the compartment full of tiny white pegs, and, after fumbling for a couple seconds, plucked out one of the pegs with the tips of his claws to add to the tracker board.
“B-four,” Ana said.
Broxen’s expression darkened. “Don’t copy me.”
“Well?”
He growled. “Hit.”
Ana offered him a toothy grin and marked her board with another red peg.
There were a lot more hit markers on Broxen’s ships than on Ana’s.
Pressing her lips together to hold in her threatening laughter, Gabriela pulled