Page 26 of The Alien Reindeer's Bounty
“Don’t take that tone with your mother,” Gerald said, unloading the surplus pies onto the kitchen table.
“This is my house and I get to have a say in who is invited to sit at my table and eat my food.”
The doorbell rang, cutting off what Gerald was about to say. Odessa swallowed her desire to argue with her father. She paid rent and was a grown woman who should be able to control who came and went into her home, but whatever. Autonomy? Who needed that when she had parents who thought they knew better?
Odessa took a deep breath. Picking a fight wouldn’t help anyone. She grabbed a stack of dishes from the cupboard and shoved them at Gerald. “Be useful and set the table.”
“Why is it cold in here? You’re not having trouble paying the heating bill, are you?” Gerald abandoned the dishes and opened the door to the basement stairs.
“Yes, I pay my bills, Dad.” Odessa rolled her eyes, desperately wishing she had been able to utter that phrase and avoid sounding like a brat. “It’s warm in the kitchen.”
“I’ll just go take a look.” He vanished down the basement steps.
“I pay my bills, honestly,” Odessa said, turning to her mother for support.
Patricia lifted the towel covering the basket of rolls and grabbed one. “Be nice, honey. Your father means well,” she said, chewing around a mouthful.
“No, he doesn’t. He acts like I’m still a kid he can boss around.” Yup, she was back to sounding like a brat, but she would embrace it. “And you’re not so innocent either.”
“Me?”
“I don’t appreciate your matchmaking.”
“I’m not matchmaking,” Patricia said.
“And now you’re lying.” Standing in her kitchen, eating the rolls Odessa put in the oven at seven o’clock that morning and—
“The rolls are dry, honey.”
“Argh! Get out.” So much for a peaceful holiday. Surely Patricia knew about the blowout Odessa had with Mads at the store. Patricia and Gerald had their network of spies and knew everything that happened in her life, usually before she did. It was annoying but predictable. “I just want to eat too much food with my family. I don’t appreciate you inviting strays.” That move was manipulative at best and Odessa chafed at anyone telling her what to do; she always had.
“I should go.” Mads stood in the door, holding a bottle of wine.
Well, fuck.
Shame at being caught mid-temper tantrum rushed over her but she owed him nothing. She stubbornly lifted her chin.
He looked good; too good in faded jeans and a slim-fitting V-neck sweater over a white button-down shirt. The navy blue of the sweater brought out the warmth in his eyes.
Mouthwatering, that’s what he was. Who wouldn’t want such a morsel at their dinner table?
Odessa brushed flour dust off the front of her worn T-shirt, acutely aware that she had her lank hair back in a sloppy ponytail, her legs needed shaving, and the red polish on her toenails had mostly flaked away.
“No, Mads, honey,” Patricia said, taking the bottle. She turned to Odessa. “Why don’t I finish up in here and you go take a shower?”
Odessa looked around, searching for a reason to refuse. “Fine. Everything is ready and keeping warm. The turkey needs to be carved, then we can eat.”
“Mommy! Michigan ate the stinky cheese,” Ruby screamed from the living room.
True to her word, the entire plate of cheese was gone, along with the crackers. The string cheese had been spared. Michigan stood with her head bowed, looking ashamed but still licking her chops.
“What happened?” Odessa asked.
Ruby shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno. I went to help Grandpa and the cheese was gone.”
“You were supposed to put the cheese on the table.”
“I did.” Ruby pointed to the empty coffee table.
