“Cutting a long story short,” I tell her so she knows I don’t want to drag the conversation out. “The person that was staying there before me got stranded, and I couldn’t exactly let her sleep out in the blizzard.”
“Her?”
Ignoring the excitement in her voice, I carry on. “Turns out Amelia is kind of Christmas crazy, and given it’s keeping her happy…I thought I’d get her another distraction. You know, keep her out of my hair so I can focus on work.”
“Amelia’s a cute name. Is she cute too?”
“Do not get ahead of yourself, and for the love of my sanity, do not tell Mom…or Nanna.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You’re not a guy, Daph, you can’t be a Scout. Besides, aren’t Scouts Catholic?”
“Not anymore, killjoy. They’re open to all denominations and sexes.”
“Huh, I guess you really do learn something new every day.”
“Whatever, just answer my fucking question! Is she cute? Pretty?”
“Amelia’s nice.” If I say anymore, I know she’ll never let me get off the phone unless I hang up on her. That in itself would be asking for more trouble than I’m equipped to deal with. “You’d like her.”
“Well, ummm, okay. I better let you get back to the tree situation, then. Don’t forget water, lights, decorations… Don’t be a weirdo and all miserable…you can take a break or two…”
“Sure.”
“Not every woman is like she who shall not be named.” Daphne pauses before adding, “Ooooh! Take a photo?”
“Sure, I’ll send you a photo of the tree.”
“I meant the girl, dumbass!”
“Amelia’s a woman.” The comment rolls off my tongue to visions of shapely legs and soft curves that have my pulse quickening.
“Well then, I meant the woman. Take a photo of her…you know, I need to know you’re safe and that she’s not a psycho…weirdo…”
Yeah, they would definitely get along. In fact, I’m certain they could be two peas in a pod.
“Bye, Daph.”
“Photo,” she repeats before I hang up and focus on the task at hand—mission Christmas tree.
With the smallest tree I could find over one shoulder and the small bag of random lights and ornaments from the small store at the farm in hand, I tackle the front door open. The smell of ginger and honey is enough to make me feel at home, reminding me of Mom’s Hanukkah lebkuchen. It’s the ultimate scent of my childhood.
“Seriously, I’m such a freaking ho!” I stop in my tracks at the sound of Amelia’s remark.
“Everyone loves a ho ho ho at Christmas, Mrs. Claus.”
“Stop it, Kate, I feel like…like…”
“A hussy?”
There’s a breath of a second where I think Amelia knows I’m back and eavesdropping on their conversation, but then she sighs, “He’s so freaking tall. You know, the hot kind of tall that you need to get on your tippy-toes to kiss.”
“Wow, we’re on to kissing already,” Kate giggles, and my heart picks up its pace.
“Every time I see him, it’s like a shot of female Viagra, and I’m this dope that can’t stop grinning or ogling him…”
“So basically what you’re saying is that you don’t want me to send in the rescue party after all?”
“No! I still need to get to LA for Christmas—I can’t let Seb spend the holidays alone. Especially since Mom and Dad decided to go skiing again this year.”
That little tidbit stings for reasons I’m not entirely sure about. Let’s face it, we should never have met. If it wasn’t for the weather, we wouldn’t be here right now. Together.
“I’ll keep a lookout for any news on US flights. If worse comes to worst, I’ll drive up to you with a shovel in tow and get you back to London.”
“If you don’t get me out of here soon, I can’t be blamed for what will happen if he keeps looking at me with his dreamy eyes. He brushed some snow out of my hair, and I swear I was gonna burst into flames!”
At her remark, my hand fists tighter around the bag I’m holding, while the same pull that had me touching her tugs harder at me.
“You know, you could make the most out of the situation since you’re so smitten. A fling might be just the thing you need. Besides, I hear he’s the perfect height.”
There’s a pause before Amelia sighs, “He really is the best kind of tall.”
“Exactly, you wouldn’t have that weird neck contortion problem. You just open up and…what is it you Americans say? Gobble gobble?”
It takes all my control to stop the laugh that threatens to burst from my mouth.
“Oh my God! Stop!”
“Come on! Where’s your sense of fun?”
“Gobble gobble? Wrong holiday, Kate.”
Biting down on my lip, I swallow down the chuckle that fills my mouth. There’s a certain kind of satisfaction that vibrates through me at the notion that I was right—Amelia’s quietness and coy glances are nothing but a decoy for the spitfire inside her. And the longer I listen to them laugh over all the possible Christmassy pun innuendos, the harder it becomes for me to restrain myself. I could drop the tree and throw her over my shoulder…
Maybe I was wrong about one thing: Amelia isn’t a force of nature. She’s straight-up dangerous. To my sanity. To my rules. To everything I swore I would never do again.
“Seriously, you should be telling me to stay away.”
“I most certainly should not. Your mouth, his cane…what’s the worst that could happen?” When Amelia doesn’t reply, she adds, “After this you’ll never see him again. Live a little.”
“I don’t know… All I do know is that, God, his eyes are so freaking blue, Kate, and I swear, my fingers are itching…like burning to get all tangled in his hair.”
The growly groan that follows makes my dick twitch in approval of the images her words are painting in my mind. The recollection of yesterday and how it felt when our hands touched briefly…the current races through me all over again, and I find myself edging closer to the kitchen doorway, catching myself just in time, before I come into view.
“Adam has something about him that…I don’t know…I think I’d let him do anything to me. Any way, any how. I’d let him fuck me in ways that would make a nun sweat.”
Fuck, I need to do something to stop things from getting weird, or Amelia’s walking out of the kitchen to find me sporting wood over her conversation with her friend…that I shouldn’t be listening to.
Still, my heart thrums, beating erratically… I want. I want. I want. My body reacts, overriding every order my brain is giving.
I retreat to the door and make a point of clunking the tree trunk on the wooden floor to announce my presence before calling out, “Honey, I’m home!”
There’s no point in berating myself over my words. At this point I’m grateful I can use the bag in my hand to hide the bulge in my pants. That I haven’t completely lost my mind and showed her exactly what I want to do to her.