Page 39 of Not Your Average Vixen
“Yes, that’s me. My name is Bridget, but Lori’s always called me Birdie.”
“I like Birdie better,” the little girl chimed from Soren’s arms.
“His name is Soren, but that’s a stupid name, so we call him Uncle Scooter because scooters are cool,” the little boy countered.
Bridget pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“Hey, you know that’s not how I got my nickname,” Soren said with a playful edge.
“Yeah, I do. Mommy gave you the name a long time ago because you have a hard to remember name that spells Scooter,” Cole conceded.
Bridget smiled at the little boy and made a mental note. If Tom’s sister had given him that nickname, Soren and the Abbotts must have been close for quite a while.
“Guess what we were doing, Uncle Scooter? We were out looking for Christmas fairies,” Carly said, answering her own question as Soren set her down.
He frowned. “I’ve never heard of a Christmas fairy.”
“Aunt Lori says that Christmas fairies help Santa and the elves,” Cole chimed as his sister nodded.
Bridget joined the trio. “That’s right. My dad used to tell me and Lori that the Christmas fairies would fly down from the North Pole to make snow angels for the good little boys and girls to see. So, if you ever come upon a snow angel with no footprints leading up to it, that means that a Christmas fairy probably made it. And if you happen to see one, they may grant you a Christmas wish.”
Cole nodded emphatically. “I’m going to find a Christmas fairy and get a Christmas wish! I’ve got new glasses, and I can see far, far, far away. I’m going to ask it what its name is, and then tell the fairy to tell Santa that I’ve been really good this year and that Carly’s been really bad and should be on the naughty list.”
“No way! You should be on the naughty list!” Carly threw back along with a handful of snow.
“Hey, easy! I’m sure neither of you are on Santa’s naughty list,” Soren corrected, separating the squabbling siblings.
She smiled at him, fascinated with the difference between the giant douche canoe, Soren Christopher Traeger Rudolph, and the light-heartedness of Uncle Scooter. But the man’s expression darkened the moment he caught her watching him.
“And you shouldn’t call Lori, Aunt Lori. She’s not your aunt,” he said, making damn sure to catch her eye as he corrected the children.
And boom! There it was. While he could play with kids and appear to be a decent human, he was still the devil. The devil who looked like sex on a stick dressed as if he were ready to model for Mountain Sports Weekly in his down jacket and dark jeans—but a wedding crashing devil, nonetheless.
“You’re not our uncle, and we call you Uncle Scooter,” Cole said, sharing a confused look with his older sister.
Soren’s expression soured. “That’s different.”
“How?” Carly asked.
“Yeah, how?” Bridget echoed, goading the worst best man.
Soren pointed to a spot in the distance. “I think I saw a Christmas fairy. You guys better check it out. You wouldn’t want to miss out on making a Christmas wish.”
The kids took the bait and headed for a grove of evergreens.
As soon as the siblings were out of earshot, she marched over to the man and pushed up onto her tiptoes. It barely got her to his perfect chin. Damn his towering physique!
“This is your warning. Do not pull anything like that again!”
His eyes glimmered like a cheetah ready to pounce. “Like what? I’m not wrong. She’s not officially their auntyet.”
She grabbed his coat—again—and yanked him down. Cheetah eyes or not, she was nobody’s prey. And when it came to Soren, unlike every other man in her life, she seemed to have no qualms flashing her badass vixen ballbuster side.
His gaze flicked to where she crumpled his coat’s down collar. “You’ll owe me a new jacket if you keep this up.”
“You’ll be lucky to make it out of this mountain house with your coat,” she shot back.
Confusion marred his perfect stupid face. “What the hell does that mean?”
