Fireworks sounded the minute his hands grazed her skin, or maybe it was a whistle. She kissed him harder. Something was off.
The fireworks got louder.
And then someone was knocking on the door to the tree house.
“Okay, you two!” Grandma yelled. “Get down here! We have plans to make! And a wedding to attend! Get down!”
Jake, obviously not caring, continued kissing her.
Char kissed him back; that is, until he was jerked away from her by Grandma herself, whistle in hand.
Jake swore violently as he covered himself with the blanket. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Grandma shrugged. “You have the rest of your lives to fornicate in the tree house…”
“Not fornicating if you’re married,” Jake pointed out.
“Fine. You can screw later.” Grandma glared. “But the caterers are here and the cake has arrived. I need the topper.”
Char felt her eyes widen. “Uh, it was um…”
“I know you have the topper,” Grandma said, sounding bored. “Blanche confirmed that you paid for it.”
“Expensive piece of work, that cake topper,” Jake grumbled.
“Down, both of you.” Grandma blew her whistle one last time and made her way down the ladder, all the while yelling. “You have ten minutes to bring me the topper.”
“Or what!” Jake called after her.
The whistle was all they heard, and then Charles Barkley made his way outside barking. He had a shock collar around his neck, with one push he stopped barking and whimpered, falling to the grass in pain. “Use your imagination. I do believe they have these for the male—”
“Fine!” Jake yelled. “Have it your way!”
Now was the time to panic. “Jake, we don’t have a stand for the topper. We can’t just let it ruin the cake.”
Jake swore. “It either ruins the cake by falling through it, or by sitting on a stand that says ‘Tits Forever’.”
Char covered her mouth with her hands and laughed. “To be fair we got sidetracked.”
“You,” he pointed, “were a distraction. Had you not waltzed around me in high heels and short skirts, I would have built a damn topper.”
“Right. So where’s your hammer?”
At Jake’s guilty look, Char shot him a triumphant glare. “Wow, do you even know what a nail is?”
He grinned shamelessly. “I think I’ve proven I can nail things.”
“Holy crap, it’s a tie between me wanting to give you a high five or slap you.”
“What happened to the whole naked option? That not on the table anymore?”
“Negative.” Char threw on her shirt and stood. “That left the table the minute Grandma mentioned shock collars and alluded to male parts.”
“Noted.” Jake winced. “Fine, let’s get this over with. Maybe nobody will notice?”
“Right.” Char nodded. “And maybe Grandma and Mr. Casbon didn’t play Charades last night.”
Jake flinched. “Arousal. Gone.”