Page 101 of Not Your Average Vixen
This had to stop.
She cleared her throat. “Tonight, we need to get the kids to bed and then finish up a few things for the rehearsal dinner. After that, you can do whatever you want.”
He nodded as the gondola came to a stop, and the Kringle Mountain House glowed against the mountain backdrop as the darkening skies crept in.
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
The light snow continued to fall as the wind kicked up, swirling snow across the mountain. They headed to the house only to have Delores open the door as they stepped onto the porch.
“Good! You’re back. The children were asking for you,” she said, ushering them in out of the cold.
Smoldering logs crackled and popped in the roaring fireplace as they entered the main room to find it quite altered. The sofas and loveseats sat bare of their padding, and the cushions and throw pillows littered the ground.
“The floor is lava!” Cole called, adjusting his candy apple red glasses as he hopped from pillow to pillow.
Bridget searched the room. “Where is everyone?”
“Dan wanted to leave a little early on account of the snow,” Delores replied.
Bridget checked her watch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think they were leaving for another half hour.”
“It’s no trouble. I was happy to spend some time with the youngsters. I’ll be in my cabin if you need anything. And don’t forget about Frosty. Safety first,” the woman answered with a singsong trill as she headed out the side door that led to the cabins.
What was up with Delores and safe sex?
“Uncle Scooter, your feet are in the lava!” Carly cried, blessedly calling attention away from the condom filled snowman as she leaped from a chair to a couch cushion.
“Save yourself!” Cole cried.
Bridget chuckled, but when she looked at Soren, his green eyes again flashed that deep, agonizing pain. He glanced at her, then back at the kids. He smiled at them, but it wasn’t his Uncle Scooter smile. That grin brimmed with affection and excitement. This one showed a hint of melancholy.
He kicked off his snow boots and jumped onto the pillow next to Cole.
“Birdie, you’re not going to make it. Help her, Uncle Scooter!” Carly directed.
“Can’t she get on her own cushion?” he asked.
“They’re not cushions! They’re rocks!” Cole corrected, getting into it.
“And they’re the only things keeping us from getting burnt to a crisp!” his sister added, not to be outdone by her little brother.
“The floor is lava!” the children cried in unison.
Reluctantly, Soren reached toward her. “You better play along. If you haven’t noticed, Carly and Cole don’t mess around with this game.”
“Remember last Christmas when you jumped over the coffee table to get to the couch, and Uncle Tom balanced on one foot until we threw him another pillow?”
Soren ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Hurry, Birdie! Hurry!” Carly chided.
Bridget took off her boots, then reached toward Soren. He took her hand, and the electricity they could not seem to escape crackled between them as he pulled her onto the cushion.
She inhaled. He no longer smelled like the inside of a whiskey bottle. No, now the tantalizing sandalwood scent she remembered from their first night sent her reeling. She rocked back, but he caught her.
“You need to be careful. Someone might not always be there to catch you,” he said, looking as shellshocked as she felt.
She nodded. She knew that better than anyone. For the last ten years, she’d had only herself to rely on.
