Page 19 of Mistletoe Love Match
“Oh, Mrs. Krangle,” the Santa lookalike remarked, “of course these two are on the good list. Comet wouldn’t have stopped them if they weren’t.”
This was getting weird—again.
“I’m not sure what list we should be on, but I’m Calliope Cress, and this is my . . .” She paused. Her what? Her fuck buddy from Denver? Her stocking stuffer? She felt her cheeks heat. What was she supposed to call him? “This is Alec Lamb,” she finished, sticking to the basics.
“Are you a doctor, Alec?” Mrs. Krangle asked, taking in his attire.
The man was still in scrubs.
He looked down like he’d forgotten he was in his work clothes. “I’m training to be one. I’m in medical school.”
“Isn’t that a godsend, Nick?” Mrs. Krangle said, relief coating her words. “Show him what happened to you when you were handling your Yule log.”
Holy Kris Kringle cosplay kink.Calliope had completely misjudged the Krangles. So much for luring them into the cute cottage to dice them into Christmas pie. These merry folk wanted to get their merry-Christmas freak on.
“I’m not sure I’m the right person to examine your husband’s Yule log, ma’am,” Alec stammered. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt as his cheeks grew rosy. “I’m in my first year of med school. I understand the basic biology and anatomy, but we haven’t learned about treating Yule logs yet.”
Noreen Krangle frowned. “I’m not talking about treating a Christmas Yule log. That’s preposterous. A Yule log is a piece of wood decorated with greenery. I’d like you to take a look at Nick’s hand. He hurt it while he was preparing the Yule log for the guests to burn in the cottage’s hearth. It’s a Christmas tradition, and he crafts them himself.”
Alec exhaled a tight breath. “I thought you wanted me to . . .”
The woman cocked her head to the side. “What did you think I was referring to, young man?”
This was holiday entertainment.
“Yeah, Dr. Alec,” Calliope asked sweetly. She batted her eyelashes at the doctor-in-training. “What were you thinking this nice Christmas lady wanted you to examine?”
Alec threw her a hefty helping of side-eye, and the breath caught in her throat. And there it was—that spark. Electricity pulsed between them. She lived to bust his balls, and with it being Christmas Eve, it was safe to say she also got a kick out of jingling his bells.
“Noreen, it’s a tiny splinter, and you know I don’t like going to the doctor,” Mr. Krangle protested, holding out his right palm—a palm with a decent-sized, raised red bump.
Ew!It did not look good.
“It’s inflamed and could keep you from your Christmas duties,” Mrs. Krangle countered.
Alec’s gaze flicked to the Santa lookalike’s hand, and he pursed his lips. “Your wife is correct, Mr. Krangle. If the area is red and painful, it’s smart to have it checked. Let me wash my hands, and I’ll take a closer look. Take a seat near the Christmas tree. It’s got the best light,” he instructed, gesturing toward a small game table with four chairs.
Clearly, the doctor was in, and barely a minute had passed before the examination commenced. With the four of them seated, Alec and the Krangles focused on Mr. Krangle’s hand, but that’s not what grabbed Calliope’s attention. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Alec as he asked the man to describe his pain. There was nothing dismissive or condescending in her Dr. Wanker’s demeanor. He listened, nodding while the man explained he’d noticed some discomfort last week when he’d been chopping wood for the Yule logs and then again felt the prick of pain when making toys for boys and girls in his workshop. The old man sounded like a right nutter when he mentioned his hand also bothered him while he was preparing the reindeer for tonight’s big event. Still, she could also see the color had drained from his cheeks. No matter who he thought he was, the poor bloke was in pain.
“It’s your lucky day, Mr. Krangle,” Alec said, gifting the Santa lookalike with a warm grin. “You might not be fond of visiting the doctor, so it’s a good thing I’m just a doctor-in-training.”
Mr. Krangle relaxed, and the rosy glow returned to his face. She couldn’t deny her Dr. Dirty Talk had a brilliant bedside manner.
“Calliope?” Alec said, and Jesus, had her name always sounded so sweet when it fell from his lips? “Would you mind grabbing the first aid kit from my bag?”
The Calliope from five minutes ago would have teased him relentlessly for traveling with a first aid kit in tow, but not anymore. Observing him as he worked and seeing this side of him was like watching a picture come into focus—a picture she hadn’t quite expected to see.
“Calliope?” he said gently—like his tongue and lips had been waiting for the moment they got to form the syllables of her name.
She pushed aside this new revelation and snapped out of her Alec-induced stupor. She found the kit and set the plastic container on the table next to the curious ruby-red box Mr. Krangle had been holding when he’d emerged from the back of the cottage.
What the heck was in there?
Before she could inquire, Alec turned to her. “Can you hand me a pair of gloves, two alcohol wipes, and the tweezers?”
Like a good makeshift nurse, she found the items and passed them over.
“Thanks,” he replied, his fingertips brushing hers as she passed him the supplies.
