“And if you feel like killing someone, I’m not above stabbing Adam’s gingerbread man with a toothpick.” “Excuse me?” Seb raises a brow at me. “Didn’t you say you have a tradition where you make gingerbread people in everyone’s likeness for Christmas? One cookie per person?” Wow. I mentioned that once, weeks ago. This guy listens. “Uh-huh,” I reply. “Well, I’m bringing a new tradition.” Seb shoots me a cheeky grin. “Voodoo cookies for anyone who upsets my wife.”
