Judge Me by Abby Knox (ereader for textbooks .TXT) 📕

not to talk about Phillip in my stand-up routine, but try telling that to the producers from the streaming service who want to make produce my special. However, every time I break Phillip’s strict instructions with some good-natured ribbing, I get to go to the paddling room. So, obviously, I joke about Phillip a lot.

At this moment, I’m not joking about Christmas cake. Jutting my chin out, I refuse once again. “I said no thank you, sweetie.”

“Is that any example to set for our children?” He leans over and sets the tea down on the coffee table.

I arch my eyebrow at him. “They aren’t paying us any attention today, not with the way you’ve showered them with presents.”

The rolling up of his dressing gown sleeves is slow and deliberate, revealing to me his thick forearms, carved from a lifetime of kneading dough. Planting his elbows on his knees, he shoots me his most severe expression that still makes amateur bakers’ eyelids twitch in nervousness. I know what’s coming. “Listen to me; you’re going to try that fruitcake or suffer the consequences.”

I know what he’s doing, and I’m not going to play this game. At least not exactly the way he wants me to. I might be a ball of sunshine, but I’ll always be a little bit of a brat.

“Fine,” I say, taking a tiny bite of the fruitcake. “Gross.” My shudder of revulsion causes my robe to fall open slightly.

He dabs his upper lip as his eyes fall to my chest. “That recipe has been in my family for hundreds of years,” he warns.

“Then your family has no taste buds.”

He squints but doesn’t blink. “Surely, you can give me a more thoughtful review than that, Chloe.”

I sigh. “Fine. It tastes like someone sucked all the joy out of Christmas.”

He stands. “That’s it. Let’s go.”

I look around. “Now? On Christmas?”

He waves his arms. “You said yourself the children are too busy playing to be bothered with us. Let’s go.”

Every year, we try to play this game. Now that the children are a bit older—and my four sisters and parents are around if the children need something—we can successfully sneak off to the paddling room without notice. Usually, we have to wait until everyone’s in bed.

It might seem a little off-kilter to insist on a paddling every Christmas, but I think it’s important to keep up traditions.

As he unlocks and pushes the door open, he whirls me around with a deep, soul-affirming kiss.

“I love you, even if you insult my granny’s fruitcake.”

I smirk as I reach for the sofa, bending over and flipping up my bathrobe.

“Your granny’s shit at baking, Phillip, just like I am.”

“You earned yourself an extra paddle, my love.”

Whack!

Oh, golly, I hope so.

THE END

Thank you for reading Judge Me. If you enjoyed this short story, please visit my website for links to my Amazon page where you can find lots more titles to read. Follow me there to keep up with my latest releases. Or, just say hello! Turn the page and find out where to track me down on social media and email, or sign up for my mailing list to be the first to know about upcoming projects.

About the Author

Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.

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