Page 14 of Mistletoe Love Match
They were being watched.
She turned toward the window, feeling like she’d landed smack-dab in a Christmas thriller. And—just as one would do in a Christmas horror flick—she shrieked and totally lost her shit. “What kind of bloody creature is that?” she exclaimed as a giant snout pressed against the window and smeared its gross snout juice across the glass. “That is no bloody woodland badger. What’s coming out of its nostrils? Is that thing liquifying right in front of us?”
Alec inched away from the window, taking her with him. “Whatever it is, it’s breathing hard.”
“Damn the Wild West!” she cried. “I could be safe in the UK noshing on sticky toffee pudding. But no. I’m here, stranded on the road, and about to be ravaged by a bloody peeping Tom Buffalo.”
The beast moved back a few inches and watched them curiously, like they were an exhibit in a zoo.
“It might be a bull elk,” Alec offered, observing the creature, when a sharp knock pulled their attention to the passenger-side window.
“It’s not a bull elk. It’s Comet, the reindeer,” came a muffled woman’s voice.
Comet the reindeer?
Had they fallen through a rip in the universe and ended up at the North Pole?
“Who the bloody hell is that?” Calliope cried. “Where the hell are we, Alec?”
Dr. Dirty Talk tried to speak, but nothing came out. The guy was as gobsmacked as she was.
She couldn’t see who was out there, thanks to the visor lights illuminating the passenger-side window. All she saw was their reflection until a beam of light sliced through the glass.
“Are those aliens?” she demanded, shielding her eyes. “Crazy Americans are always on the telly ranting about being abducted from the middle of nowhere. I never believed it until now.”
“It’s got to be a flashlight,” Alec answered, but the bloke didn’t sound all that sure.
Whatever the source of the light, she’d be seeing spots for days.
The beast at the window lumbered in front of the Jeep, and the light from the torch vanished.
“Ho, ho, ho! It looks like we’ve got a couple of naughty-listers here, Mrs. K,” came a man’s warm voice infused with a comforting jovial quality.
“That it does, Nick, dear. That it does,” the woman answered.
Naughty-listers?
They really had fallen through a tear in the universe and landed smack-dab in a bizarro Christmas world.
No, that was insane and impossible.
She needed to see what they were up against.
Drawing upon the nimbleness of a beached whale, she flopped from Alec’s lap onto the passenger seat. With the same grace, she smacked the visor closed, then saw two older adults dressed as Santa and Mrs. Claus. The couple were dead ringers for the fictional festive characters. Decked in puffy coats and wooly mittens, the man waved as the woman held up a plate of cookies.
If they were getting abducted by Christmas aliens, at least there’d be snacks.
She rolled the window down an inch. “Who are you people?”
“Ho, ho, ho! We’re the Krangles,” the man announced warmly.
“The Kringles?” Alec repeated.
The white-bearded man chuckled, and his whole body jiggled like a bowl full of—that’s right—jelly.
“We’re not theKringles,” the cookie lady corrected. “We’re theKrangles. Swap theIfor anA, and that’s us. I’m Noreen, and this is my husband, Nick.”
This had to be a joke. And who knew Mrs. Claus had a first name?
