Cotton walked into the kitchen, unzipping his jacket. “Shit, marthy, it’s cold out there. That fucking wind is like...”
He stopped, still.
Emmy was standing there in nothing but an apron and a pair of the highest, sparkliest heels he’d ever seen, stirring a bowl of...of...Oh, who the fuck cared what she was stirring?
He took a step forward and hit his knees. Happy holidays to him.
For Sonya. ;-)