Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Luke has a hot pink pillow with monster googly eyes on it held over his crotch.
I cover my mouth, stifling a laugh.
He looks exhausted and grumpy, his hair sticking straight up in the front. He also looks handsome and delicious and like everything I’ve ever wanted all in one sexy, pissed off package.
I want to keep him, tuck him into the pouch of my reindeer costume and tote him home for a long shower, more sex, and fresh scones.
But reindeer costumes don’t have pouches and Luke is clearly missed at home.
It’s time to go our separate ways, but I’ll always have my memories. Like this one of the mayor finding me naked and smelling of sour milk and sex, right in the middle of the town hall lobby…
“Doesn’t anyone know how to knock?” Luke growls. He gropes to his right and finds my reindeer costume. He drapes it over my bare legs.
“We knocked,” Elliot protests. “There was so much knocking!”
“Those mats are from the children’s play area,” Misty says, sounding thoroughly outraged, and ignoring Elliot’s urgings to retreat. Her tiny head is like a turtle jutting in and out of its shell as Luke’s brothers do their best to block her view.
“I’ll replace everything here,” Luke says. “This afternoon, if possible.”
“Oh, and the pillows!” Misty yelps.
Misty has been mayor since the eighties. She’s approximately a thousand years old and barely five feet tall. Her winter coat weighs more than she does. Fortunately, she also refuses to admit her eyesight is shot, and while she does have tortoise shell glasses on, it’s common knowledge the prescription lenses, and the frames themselves, have been on her nose for the last thirty years.
I’m grateful that what’s she seen was probably blurry.
And that she might possibly think we were just sleeping.
The same can’t be said for Elliot and Bran, however.
“I guess the holidays aren’t the only thing coming,” Bran says, a gleeful grin splitting across his face.
“Dude,” Elliot says. “What are you, twelve?”
“And a half,” Bran says. “I’m twelve and a half. And jealous. Looks like Luke had a way better snowed in night than we did.” He waves at me. “And you, too, Holly Jo? I hope Luke was a gentleman. Or at least—”
“Last night isn’t up for discussion,” Luke booms, now up and dressed and moving between me and our unexpected visitors. “Now kindly wait outside.”
“It’s okay,” I say, finally managing to wiggle my bottom half into my reindeer outfit while still wrapped in Luke’s coat on top. Fully covered, I leap to my feet and back toward the hallway. “I’ll just pop into the bathroom and be right back. We can explain everything and clean up our mess and forget this ever happened.”
I wince as I turn and scamper into the ladies’ room in the back hallway.
I don’t want to forget this happened. I want to burn every moment into my memory. If I had my camera with me, I’d take a few shots of our mussed bed and Luke’s crazy hair—maybe even Misty’s outraged face—and tuck them into my keeper box where my favorite photos are stored for safekeeping.
Sadly, however, my camera is at home on my kitchen counter, beside the three batteries I’m charging for the shoot today. Hopefully, they managed to get enough juice in them before the power went out. Though I suppose I still have time to charge them before this afternoon’s puppy shoot.
I reach out, flicking the light switch, a strange wave of sadness rushing through me as the bathroom lights flicker on.
It’s just more confirmation that last night is really over, and it’s time to move on.
I know it’s time. I know that having more steamy sex and sleeping snuggled in each other’s arms like we were made to fit perfectly together hasn’t changed things, that Luke still wants nothing to do with me beyond one perfect night. But when I emerge from the bathroom to find Misty alone in a now mat-free lobby, I’m still shocked.
“Wh-where…” I turn, scanning the museum room and the empty offices before turning back to Misty. “Where did they go?”
Misty pushes her glasses up her nose with a trembling hand. “Home. They threw the mats and pillows in the dumpster out back and jumped on their snowmobiles.” She fixes me with a firm look. “They promised not to speak a word about this, however, and I hope you’ll do the same, Holly Jo. The last thing we need is a sex scandal right before the holidays.”
“Right, a sex scandal is always better in the spring, around St. Patrick’s Day, maybe,” I mutter, my stomach dropping like an elevator in freefall.
“What was that?” Misty asks.
“Nothing,” I say, forcing myself to pull it together.
Misty doesn’t appreciate my humor, and there’s no reason to cause her further distress. I just need to smooth things over and get out of here as quickly as possible, before I do something embarrassing. Like cry or try to dig a pillow out of the dumpster so I can have something Luke touched to remember him by.