Page 15 of Hello Dr. Christmas

ChapterEight

Adam and Eve are in the kitchen, making the cutest little cake pops together. Yesterday, it would have made me jealous to see them all lovey dovey and adorable like that, but today, I’m able to smile and introduce myself to Adam without crying about the fact that he stole my sister and ruined my cat café dreams.

Mary and Sven are also in the kitchen, making egg nog protein shakes. Sven swears that getting proper protein intake will help my ankle heal, so I obediently eat and drink everything that everyone hands me to eat and drink, with no complaints.

“Clara seems to be in a strangely good mood today,” Eve says suspiciously.

I just smile and shrug. “It’s Christmas Day. I guess I’m feeling the holiday spirit.”

“It’s definitely a good Christmas,” Adam says, smiling at my sister like he’s obsessed with her.

Okay. Maybe I’m a teensy, eensy, weensy bit jealous.

I had one great night with a stranger. But these two couples get to haveendlessamazing nights together… and all the emotional, domestic, trusting stuff that comes with a real relationship. I wonder if I’ll ever be ready for that.

“Oh!” Sven exclaims, checking his phone. “He’s here! Let’s go meet him.”

“Finally,” Mary says, clapping her hands in excitement. “Clara, you have to come with me,” she says, grabbing my arm and leading me out of the kitchen.

“Okay, fine,” I grumble, limping on my crutches—but I manage to grab one of Adam’s cake pops first. They are significantly better than Eve’s, but I’ll never tell her that.

As we move out into the family room, I munch on the cake pop intently, focused on the adorable decorations and the sublime taste.

“Cousin! You made it,” Sven is saying happily.

“What’s going on, Sven? You said you needed me to hop on a plane to Minnesota, no questions asked, so I came as soon as I could.” The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I am enjoying my cake pop so much that I do not notice. “Is it your knee? Did you push yourself too hard at the gym and get injured again? Because I warned you to take it easy.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Sven says. “Weren’t you supposed to arrive last night? I thought your flight got in yesterday. I was waiting to hear from you.”

“I was feeling kind of jetlagged, so I decided to crash at a hotel before coming to see you.”

Wait.

Jetlagged. Hotel. Visiting family. I stop chewing my cake pop, and look up at our visitor with wide eyes. Oh my god. It’s my handsome stranger. It’s Mr. Claus. In my house.

Dammit! That’s where I knew his accent from. He has the same accent as Sven. He’s Swedish.

“That’s fine, Cousin,” Sven says, clapping the man on the back affectionately. “I just wanted you to come help out with another family emergency. It’s Clara’s ankle.”

The man’s face displays recognition. “What?” he asks with surprise, looking around the room. When his eyes connect with mine, he freezes.

“This is a very special ankle,” Sven is explaining to his cousin, as he gestures to me. “Clara is a prima ballerina with a company in New York, and she dances in performances all over the world.”

“Iwas,” I correct, “and Idid. Until this happened.”

“I see,” my stranger says, with the ghost of a smile on his features. “That looks like a bad injury. Not your average Christmas shopping accident, if specialists are being flown in from Europe to help.”

Damn.

“Clara, this is the orthopedic surgeon I was telling you about,” Sven is saying. “I want you to meet Dr. Klaus Andersson. Trust me, he can work magic with your bones and ligaments. He is a genius.”

I have been standing here with a half-eaten cake pop in my hand, and my eyes wide as I stare at Klaus. Dr. Andersson. Are we on a first name basis? What do I call him? Also, why would he use the fake moniker of Mr. Claus when it’s so close to his actual name?

I am vastly annoyed.

Mary nudges me forward. “Introduce yourself,” she whispers eagerly.

I stumble forward, still staring awkwardly at Klaus. “Uh, hi, Dr. Andersson. I’m Clara Frost.” I shove the cake pop into the pocket of my Christmas pajamas, so that I can shake his hand.

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