Page 31 of Unwrapped

Wrapping the cozy robe I found hanging in my bathroom tighter around me, I add my cream and sugar and practically inhale my coffee wondering who the hell that was.

“Good morning.”

I manage a grimace and pour myself my second cup. Sally putters around and I shriek when she screams.

“They’re gone! What did you do? Binge at midnight?”

“Me?” I squeak.

She hold up an empty tin that was full of a least two dozen cookies the night before.

“It was him.”

“Who?”

“The big man who was in your kitchen about three minutes ago.”

“Hmmm,” she takes her rolling pin and smacks it across her palm. “Was he movie star handsome with a shit eating grin and dimples.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, swallowing my coffee too fast.

“That’d be Mac. Damn him. We’re going to be late and if I don’t have enough cookies Devon is going to freak. And pregnant woman are hell on wheels.” She throws her hands up and starts pulling ingredients from cupboards. “Don’t just stand there we have two hours to replace three dozen frosted cookies.”

My eyes roll. “I’m one starring you on Trip Advisor for this.”

She pauses mid tirade. “You do that, and you’ll be on his radar.”

“Whose?”

“You didn’t Google Roque Salvatore last night.”

“Nope.”

“It’s probably better…you’d have never gotten a wink of sleep.”

“Because he’s the boogie man, right?”

She shrugs…, “who happens to be sex on a stick.”

“Wow. I’m so impressed.” I bring a hand to my chest in mock feeling faint.

“I’ll be the one laughing when he shows up and scares your tits off.”

“If that happens…it’ll be a point one star.” We don’t speak much as we both bake bleary-eyed and manage to pull the last tray from the oven with thirty minutes to spare.

“I’m going to shower.” I yawn.

“There’s no time. I’m sorry.”

“Fine. I don’t really want to go anyway.”

“Of course, you do. Santa’s going to be there.”

“I stopped believing years ago.”

“You’ve never seen a Santa like this. Trust me. I might even sit on his lap.”

“What makes him so special?”

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