“Is it really that uncomfortable to sit here with me, or is this about you feeling swishy?”
I turned scarlet within a blink of an eye and hastily tried to free my chin from his grip.
“Ah, I thought it would be that.”
“Would be what?” I asked, irritated.
“You’re not comfortable with me being taller, broader, and so on.”
Sourly I replied, “You forgot to mention overbearing, smart-alecky, and a lot of other stuff.”
“You’re not unmanly just because you’re smaller than me.”
“Thanks for reminding me about the height difference.”
“Well, you are smaller and much lighter.”
I glared and punched him not too weakly on his chest. Dale gave a satisfying sound of pain, then growled. Before I could panic, his fingers slipped underneath my shirt and started tickling me. I shrieked and swatted at his hands. His fingers were everywhere all at once and no matter how much I writhed, swatted, and squeaked, his assault didn’t lessen. I was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down my face. My captor was grinning like a cat that got the cream, and I kept on twisting and begging for mercy.
Jackson eyed us curiously but made no move to get near us. “See,” Dale commented, “Jackson knows how very harmless I am.”
“You’re not! I can’t breathe!”
“Whose fault is that?”