Page 12 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
After recounting what happened, I huff, “It’s Krampus!”
“Stop that nonsense,” Ollie mumbles, trying to stifle his laugh. Rague doesn’t give me the same courtesy, and his growly, rumbly chuckle makes my hair stand with outrage.
“Nonsense?” I repeat in a high-pitched voice this time. “You were there the night we summoned him. You remember the candle blew out.”
“A draft,” Ollie deadpans.
“The door slamming?” I insist.
“A stronger draft.”
“And how do you explain the whisper in your ear?”
“What whisper?” Ollie frowns at me, while a cloud of smoke billows from the maggot’s house as I see firemen running around.
“Ah! You didn’t hear it,” I exclaim.
“Neither did you, Lori. You’re just obsessed with this crazy-as-fuck curse.”
“Do me a favor and from now on, use your inside voice.”
Ollie frowns. “My what?”
“You want me to spell it out? Shut up!”
But of course, he ignores me. “Krampus is Santa’s brother, a fictional character. How can he be causing this mess?” He points at the flames coming from the roof.
“Santa. Move the n at the end of the word and you get Satan. Coincidence? I think not, mate.”
“You’re borderline certifiable. But assuming that you’re right. You’ve been naughty since the day God gave you the gift of talking. Why would Krampus start punishing you after you turned ten?”
“Because we summoned him!” I remind him of this essential piece of information, at which he scoffs.Scoffs!My tragedies are objects of ridicule for my bestie—ex-bestie!
Rague is on the phone when he says, “Rami is listening to the firemen’s radio. They are still trying to put out that flaming beauty. But there are no casualties from the house—except the donor. Everybody is accounted for.”
“That’s a relief!” I breath out, feeling part of the boulder on my shoulders lifting.
“He also said that you’re—and I quote—‘a pending disaster with a never-quitting ass and hairless legs.’” An insult paired with a compliment. After a couple of seconds, Rague adds, “Now Bez is trying to strangle him. Hunter is not there to defend Rami, so I think your fiancé will succeed.”
I raise a fist of encouragement but stop before it reaches my head as my shoulder protests vigorously and achingly. “Fuck!”
Rague passes me his phone.
“Sod off, Reacher. If Bez doesn’t kill you, I will,” I hiss, thinking it’s Rami on the other line.
“How’s my feisty Little Wasp?” Bez’s raspy voice soothes my fury—slightly.
“Enraged and murderous,” I clip.
“Sex on a stick. I’ll pound all that killing fury out of you as soon as you get here,” he rumbles, making my balls shiver with desire. I love when he fucks me in his childhood bedroom, it feels so forbidden and improper. But my aching shoulder is making known its disapproval.
“How about a nice Lori ride?”
“Why?” Gabe’s flat voice has a hint of suspicion in it. I never turn down a pounding from my men, and he knows it.
“I might have hurt my shoulder.” Bez’s angry, rumbly growl makes me add quickly, “Stop that! I’m fine, just need to ice it for a while.”
“Next time, I’ll be there with you,” he says, filling his words with finality.
