Page 6 of Mr. Winter
“I just need to know how she’s doing.”
“Find out like a normal person.”
“Says the guy talking to me in my head…”
Deacon chuckles but I feel like I’ve been pushed. Gods are bullies. “If I have to be Mr. Mistletoe…”
“Mr. Mistletoe? That’s ironic as fuck.”
“Shut up, you probably didn’t even use ‘ironic’ correctly. Anyway, if I have to step out of my comfort zone, then so will you.”
“It hurts like a bitch, Deac. I’m not sitting around with my thumbs up my ass. I’m doing what needs to be done, but all this Christmas stuff was Papa, and that’s all I see when I look at it.”
“I know it’s not the same; I miss him too. I get that it’s hard but having someone helps. I have a meeting but think about it.”
He’s gone, leaving me to think. I get what he’s saying, but I must keep my distance from Arden.
Chapter 3
Arden
Peppermint mocha—the warm and yummy concoction slides down my throat and gives me the closest thing to euphoria a legal product can give me. This time of year I absolutely refuse to drink anything that’s not seasonal, and this unusually cold weather gives me all the excuses I need to overindulge. I’m stressed to the max and am entertaining the thought of ordering a hit on Myron’s punk ass. After another reminder that his stupid ass isn’t part of my big plan, I move back to the Christmas festivities.
First thing’s first, Jack’s older brother, cousin, uncle, or whoever the fuck is hiding in the Winters’ mansion needs to come out to play. I stretch in the comfy, fuzzy Christmas cardigan I keep at work—another thing I pull out on the first of December—and grab the office phone.
Deacon answers after two rings. “What, Leeeesa? I’m not even going to point out that you and my brother managed to stuff yourselves, yet my office is void of food.”
“Shut it, Hiram. You knew where we’d be. Anyway, what’s the name of the dumbass who hasn’t found his front door yet?”
“Who?” His chuckle is rich despite the early hour.
“The Winters dude.”
“Espen. His name is Espen.”
“Hopefully, he’ll remember where the phone is located.”
“You’re calling him?” Deacon’s interest seems higher than I’d expect for such a mundane task, but I humor him anyway.
“Yes, I need one more bachelor for the charity bachelor auction, Mr. Mistletoe.”
“Don’t fucking call me that.”
“My. My. Hiram. Is that the language of one of the leaders of our great country?”
“Um? Suck a dick?” My bark of laughter has him yelling at me. “Get off my phone with your extra-ass laugh and good luck with Espen.”
The snark in his voice tells me he doesn’t really mean it. Espen must be a piece of work.
“Yeah, yeah. Bye.”
I hang up and dial the Winters’ mansion. Edward the butler answers.
“Hi, Edward. This is Arden. How have you been? How are the wife and kids?”
“Great, great, Ms. Voss. Thank you for asking. They’re looking forward to everything you’re planning.”
I withhold a groan. It’s not his fault that his enthusiasm is a reminder of all the work I need to accomplish in the next three days. I take another sip of happiness and move forward.
