Page 1 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

Chapter 1

“I’m late. Oh, God, I’m so late!” I try to force my foot into the boot, a piece of burnt toast clamped between my teeth.

“Abby.”

The toast falls out of my mouth into my open purse and I groan loudly at the thought of having to clean my purse out again.

“Abby!”

“What?” I glare at my roommate who is leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, grinning like a loon. “This is not a good time to start a conversation with me, Scarlett! My job is on the line.”

Scarlett pursed her lips, trying to contain her grin, “Well, they might fire you for turning up in boxers to school.”

I froze, and the constant draft on my legs suddenly made so much sense now. The pants that hit me on the face made me curse, and I had to kick off the boots again, not that I managed to wear them in the first place.

However, the pants that had been handed to me had a huge tear in them, and just like that I felt like my entire day was doomed.

Sliding onto the wooden floor in the foyer, I look miserably at my dark-haired roommate, “It’s ruined, isn’t it?”

She studies me blankly, sipping coffee from her cup, “What is?”

“My first day to work. I’m late. I’m not even dressed properly. And I haven’t even had breakfast. Today was supposed to be my day. I was going to be super organized and be on time and -”

Scarlett points toward something behind me, and I turn to look.

“There’s nothing there,” I say, scowling.

She tucks her cheek in her tongue, “Look at the clock, you idiot!”

Frowning, I did so and then I blink, “What the hell?”

“I turned back all the clocks last night, because I knew you were going to be late,” Scarlett smirks at me.

“You turned back all the clocks?” I repeat, slowly, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

She slurps her coffee loudly in response.

“All of them?” I ask, stupidly.

Her shoulders move in a shrug, “By an hour. So, by my count, you’ve still got an hour. Go get dressed, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Scarlett, I love you.”

“I know,” She replies, smugly.

“Please marry me.”

“No.”

Laughing in a hysterical relief, I race back to my room, leaving my best friend behind to fix me a nice breakfast.

This time when I come out, I have a loose-fitted white sweater on, and a red skirt with long, black, warm stockings that have no tear in them. I did a little twirl for Scarlett who grins back at me, while placing a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me.

“Very professional, Miss Johnson. I like what you’ve done with your hair. Very sleek, very sexy.”

“I’m not aiming for sexy,” I frown, staring at my reflection in the mirror across the room, my hands going instinctively to the knot on top of my head.

“Why the hell not?” Scarlett demands. “You’re in your late twenties. It wouldn’t hurt you to flirt around with some well-settled man and have a wild, torrid affair which ends up with you pregnant so that he has to marry you.”

I stare at her, the egg still dangling from the fork in mid-air, “Have you been watching the soaps again?”

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