“There’s a lumberjack in my kitchen,” said Kiko, setting down Mother and turning to lock the door behind him. Dom, who had been eating alone at the breakfast nook, turned and shot him a grin that was half-full of misery.
“I don’t see why we have to wear this.”
“It’s tradition,” said Kiko. “I wore that one last year. You look good, by the way.” He grinned. “And lumberjacks do know their way around wood.”
“Is this a fetish you never told me about?” asked Dom. “You hold me at axepoint and force me to fell you?”
“Sounds like it’s one of yours.” Kiko snatched up Mother and changed his diaper, wishing he could stay in for the night.
“There’s pizza and salad,” said Dom, nodding toward the counter. Kiko hesitated. He’d rather not eat, but Dom had specifically set him aside a bowl of salad and
