She points to the wide-open archway on the other side of the tree that leads into the dining room. “Look out those windows.”
My eyes follow where she pointed while she goes back to work refilling glass jars with marshmallows, candy canes, and other assorted treats for the bar that were running low on the table. Through the archway and into the dining room, I can see a wall of windows outlined with garland and white lights that face out into the front yard. And through those windows, out in the snow flurries, I see my boyfriend wearing black cargo shorts, a red T-shirt, and big, fluffy red mittens, while he frolics around in a foot of snow with another man.
All I can do is shake my head and smile at how ridiculous he looks out there in a blizzard in shorts and a T-shirt, not even showing a hint of being cold.
“He recruited my husband earlier to go outside and help him build a snowman,” Allie informs me. “They’ve been out there for over an hour now, and just an FYI, there was an intense snowball fight about fifteen minutes before you got down here that my idiot husband got a little carried away with, and Bodhi might have a teensy little bump on his forehead.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry he took your husband away when I’m sure you probably have a million things he should be doing around here,” I tell her with a quick sheepish smile before my eyes automatically go back out to the windows, because no matter how ridiculous Bodhi looks with what he’s wearing, damn his ass looks good in those shorts.
“It’s fine!” Allie reassures me as I laugh to myself when Bodhi slips on something, his feet shooting out from under him, and he falls flat on that hot ass in the snow. And then he proceeds to start making a snow angel once he’s down there. “Jason gets a little high-strung this time of year, trying to help out at the bed and breakfast as much as he can on top of his regular job. He needed a little break this morning to stop looking at the to-do list in his damn planner and just have fun. Bodhi’s pretty good at that, as you can see.”
I can see Jason out in the snow with Bodhi, now bent over at the waist, pointing and laughing at him, wearing a more winter-sensible outfit of a thick-lined flannel coat on top of a cable knit sweater with jeans and work boots. He’s a pretty good-looking guy if you like the clean-cut, mountain man vibe. That stupid warm and gooey feeling all throughout my body is back, because I do indeed know how good Bodhi is at getting people to stop being so anal, looking at their planners all the time, and just have fun. He’s been doing it to me for the last six months.
“Did you get the goodies Bodhi came down in search of for you earlier? He was so adorable, rushing around in a panic, loading up his arms with everything I offered from the kitchen.” Allie laughs softly as she pulls a mug from the tray and hands it to me before arranging the rest of them neatly in the corner of the table next to a ceramic snowman cookie jar.
I like Allie even more than I did yesterday when she hands me a black mug with Jack Skellington in his Santa suit painted on it, instead of a mug with a regular boring Santa on it. The Nightmare Before Christmas is the only Christmas movie I actually like. And don’t tell me it’s not a Christmas movie. It’s as much of a Christmas movie as Die Hard.
As I pour myself a cup of hot chocolate from the silver carafe, I mumble out a quiet “yep” in reply to her question about the goodies. The annoyance of waking up alone is put on the back burner when Allie’s question reminds me what I found on Bodhi’s pillow when I woke up and rolled over. Even though I woke up to the horror of Santa hippo eyes alone and without the comfort of morning sex, I still have the sweetest boyfriend ever.
I was so dead to the world I didn’t even hear that stupid hippo song when Bodhi left the room in search of breakfast, according to the note he left behind on a piece of Santa hippo paper from the complimentary pad on the nightstand. Along with a bag of assorted Christmas chocolates, a tin of homemade Christmas cookies, a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, a box of Cheez-Its, and a bag of homemade chocolate-covered pretzels, as a “Pre-breakfast warmup so you don’t go downstairs hangry and light a small child on fire. Text me when you wake up, and I’ll meet you in the dining room. Love you the most-est.”
There was definitely something in both of my eyes that made them water as I ate everything—without even sitting up in bed—that my boyfriend went in search of for me, because he knows me so well, and he’s just always thoughtful like that. It was obviously yesterday’s mascara I didn’t give two shits about washing off last night before I passed out in bed that caused the wetness in my eyes. Good thing I took a quick shower before I came down here and that shit won’t be happening again right now, thank you very much.
“Millie, there you are! I need to talk to you about one of the gifts you bought from my list.”
A guest in her early sixties shuffles past Allie and me through the foyer as the other guest walks away from the counter, and Allie finishes refilling a mug with chocolate-dipped spoons covered in crushed-up bits of candy canes.
“Oh, Tess, I forgot to tell you the good news!” Millie claps her hands as the guest sets a white gift box on the counter in front of her. “I have found my true calling while here at The Redinger House, and I have offered up my services as a personal shopper for the guests. You just give me a list, and I’ll hustle over to the civilized part of the mountain where there’s a Starbucks and Prada and get whatever you need. It’s been going superbly; isn’t that right, Barbara?”
The woman gives Millie a sheepish smile. “That’s actually what I wanted to discuss with you, sweetie. I know my handwriting isn’t very easy to read, and I’m sorry about that. On the list I gave you last night, I actually wrote that I wanted a Craftsman cordless drill for Eugene. It’s the only thing that stubborn man asked for this year. He’s not gonna want… this.”
She slides the gift box closer to Millie, and Millie slides it right back with a smile, while I bring my mug up to my mouth. Allie stops me to lean over and squirt a pile of whipped cream on top, adding a couple of shakes of red-and-green Christmas sprinkles before I can stop her, and then zooming right over to the check-in counter like some sort of Christmas cocoa ninja.
“Does someone need a drill?”
For the first time in my life, I actually jump, and scream like a little girl, when stalker Sheldon pops up right behind me, the reindeer antlers still perched on top of his bald head paired with a dark-blue Christmas sweater with white reindeer and snowflakes stitched on it.
“I’ve got two cordless drills in my trunk with multiple attachments for drilling into really thick and hard stuff if you need one.”
Do you mean a skull, Sheldon? Is that what you mean?
When no one answers Sheldon, he just shrugs and heads into the living room, and Millie turns her attention back on the guest.
“Oh, Barbara, you’re so precious.” She sighs as I grab a chocolate-dipped spoon and mush all the whipped cream and sprinkles down into the hot liquid. “I once had to read a ransom letter on camera for a Columbian drug lord that was written by his brother-in-law who had an unfortunate hand tremor, due to the knife that was sticking out of his hand while he wrote the ransom letter. Your penmanship was a piece of cake; trust me. Eugene is a good man, and a good man should have a cashmere sweater from Neiman Marcus. Don’t worry. The $1,500 extra I spent is my gift to you. Help me help you help Eugene this Christmas, Barb.”