Season's Schemings (Cyclones Christmas, #1)

by Katie Bailey

“Shut the hell up about potatoes.” “But they’re the best part of Thanksgiving dinner! Everyone knows that.” Triple J puffs out his chest and glowers at our teammate. “It’s my Irish blood, makes me love the things. Can’t get enough of ‘em.”

“Binge-watching Collin Farrell movies while you eat Lucky Charms doesn’t make you Irish, dumbass,” he grouches.

Seb chucks my chin. “Have you forgotten where we are?” “Oh my gosh!” I squeal, almost sliding off my stool again. “We’re in Vegas, baby!”

Why does my husband have to be so damn sexy? And why does he have to know it? I can tell that he knows how flustered I am, but he seems to take pity on me, because he simply nods. “See you tonight, Mrs. Slater.”

To make a certain someone in the crowd proud that she’s wearing my damn name on her back.

“You look at her like my daddy looks at my mommy. And they’re super happy together. So, I’m going to go with yes. She is lucky to be married to you.”

“You are too much.” But she’s not. She’s exactly the right amount of… everything.

“Well, I’m bringing a new tradition.” Seb shoots me a cheeky grin. “Voodoo cookies for anyone who upsets my wife.”

“This one is from me, for you and your fiancée.” Adam takes the package, without thanking his grandma, and rips it open. He stares at the contents until all of us are staring at him, too. Waiting. “Well?” Elizabeth demands. “What is it?” Adam holds up a vintage-y wall sign—one of the ones you buy on Etsy or at craft markets with swirly letters that spell out inspirational quotes. Only this particular sign says: Live, Laugh, Love Don’t be a dick

“Thank you,” I cry into his chest, any embarrassment at my display being drowned by gratitude. His hand tightens on the back of my neck, holding me ever closer. Somewhere in the far, far distance, Dot applauds. “Now, THEY would get a sign that says ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’”

“Well, Captain, it’s that… I think I might have accidentally fallen in love with my wife.”