Page 18 of Mistletoe Love Match
But before Alec could reply, footsteps echoed through the space.
Mrs. Krangle emerged from a hallway that led from the back of the cabin. “Oh, good! You made it. Welcome to Mistletoe Cottage. The tour is quite short. This is the family room and the bedroom. The couch is a sleeper sofa, but as you can see, it’s rather large. Our guests tell us that it sleeps two just fine the way it is. I suspect there’s a bit of cuddling involved to make it work, but you two look up to the task.”
One bed.
Calliope nodded to Mrs. Krangle and studied the couch.
For as much sex as she and Alec had engaged in over the last few months, they’d never physically slept together. She assessed the sofa’s overstuffed cushions and zeroed in on a quilt slung over the side. It was a delightful thing with stockings embroidered onto red and green squares. She clenched her core muscles. Her Dr. Dirty Talk could really stuff her stocking on a couch like that.
“What’s that about stockings, dear?” Mrs. Krangle asked with a crease to her brow.
Oh, bloody hell!Had she said that aloud?
“Calliope, is everything all right?” Alec pressed, watching her closely.
“You were mumbling, dear. I couldn’t quite make out what you said,” Mrs. Krangle offered.
Thank God.
Calliope nearly breathed a sigh of relief, then made the mistake of catching Alec’s eye.Bollocks!The twist of a smirk on his face indicated he’d been able to make out plenty. She shifted her stance, willing her cheeks not to burn with mortification. “I was admiring the quilt embroidered with stockings. It’s lovely. Every stocking has a different toy in it. There’s such attention to detail,” she blathered like a twit.
“Aren’t you sweet? I quilted it myself,” Mrs. Krangle answered brightly, then waved them in. “And between the three of us, I have to admit I do love getting my stocking stuffed. Mr. Krangle is so inventive when it comes to stuffing a stocking.”
Was this lady kidding?
“Is he?” Alec inquired.
Blimey!If Mrs. Krangle hadn’t been there, Calliope would’ve kicked this git in the shins.
“Oh, yes,” the woman trilled. “You should have seen the enormous gift he stuffed into my stocking last year. I can’t wait to find out what he’ll do tonight.”
Sweet Jesus, make it stop.
“Jolly good fun getting stuffed on Christmas Eve,” Calliope stammered and again made the mistake of glancing at Alec.
The man pressed his lips into a hard line, suppressing what had to be a full-throated belly laugh.
“What’s down the hall?” she asked, changing the subject and praying there wasn’t a room piled high with stuffed-stocking quilts. She’d never look at a stuffed stocking the same way again.
Mrs. Krangle clasped her hands in front of her. “The kitchen and the bathroom.”
Hark the Herald!They were back on track.
If she didn’t imagine Alec stuffing her stocking until she couldn’t see straight, she’d be fine. She surveyed the room, admired the decked-out tree, then zeroed in on a wooden reindeer ornament. It reminded her of the flesh and blood reindeer who’d wandered onto the road.
“Where’s Comet? Is he still outside? That can’t be safe,” she said and was met with Mr. Krangle’s hearty ho-ho-ho of a chuckle.
The man walked toward them, coming from the back of the cottage, with a ruby-red shoebox under his arm. “Comet knows the way back to Dancer, Dasher, Prancer, and Vixen, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, and—”
“Rudolph,” Calliope supplied. She might as well play along.
Mr. Krangle frowned. “No, Frank.”
She eyed the man. “You’ve got a reindeer named Frank?”
“Frank is our dog,” Noreen Krangle answered, then tapped her chin. “And that reminds me. You haven’t told us your names. We’re not as familiar with the children on the naughty list.”
Was the bad kid list really a thing?
