Page 87 of Christmas Kisses

Although I shouldn’t, I sling my head back to Christian to make sure his cock is tucked away before I grant Mrs. Roach access to my apartment.

As suspected, tears are glossing her cheeks, and her bottom lip is extra plump from how many times she’s run her teeth over it.

“Did you say he gave you an eviction notice?”

Mrs. Roach peers at Christian over my shoulder for half a second before she nods. She knows what she’s interrupting but is too lost on why she is holding an eviction notice to act cordially.

“It says I have to be out before the new year. Is that right?” She seeks an answer from my eyes as I speed-read the document she thrust into my hand. “That can’t be right. I have a lease.”

Help comes from an unlikely source. “Were you given any grievance notices prior to this? An infringement notice that didn’t involve a sweater?”

Tears fling off her cheeks as she shakes her head. “Never. I pay my rent on time every month and have always had exclamatory inspection reports.”

My teeth grit when I recall why they’ve had to be creative with Mrs. Roach’s eviction notice. She can afford the astronomically high rental prices this building now demands because her husband had an impressive life insurance policy.

After ensuring I have my facts straight, I say, “They’re saying her apartment isn’t safe for tenancy. That the mold in the bathroom is dangerous.”

“Mold?” Mrs. Roach’s watering eyes bounce between Christian and me. “There’s no mold. I have a cleaner come in once a week.” She stops, then gulps. “There was that one water leak a couple of months ago.” Her eyes are back on me. “It made a horrible mess, but I don’t think it is mold.”

“Think won’t work with these people. You need the damage inspected by a professional.”

Mrs. Roach twists to face Christian, the person issuing the caution. “It is two days out from Christmas. How will I find someone at such short notice?”

He fetches his coat like it will hide his elf shoes, before saying, “You found him.”

“You’re a plumber?”

I’m glad Mrs. Roach can’t hold back her shock. I’m too stunned, and perhaps still a little lusty, to force words from my mouth. I can barely stand.

“No. But I am a qualified building inspector.”

My eyes bulge when Christian gestures for Mrs. Roach to show him the way.

She seeks my advice. I nod. It isn’t a confident head bob, but it is a confirmation, nonetheless.

Christian’s shoulders can barely fit through the doorway in Mrs. Roach’s laundry room, so we wait for him in the living room. His inspection of the pipes via the access hole in the laundry room is long enough for the lust thickening my veins to thin a smidge and to double the worry on Mrs. Roach’s face.

She doesn’t want to be evicted any more than I do. This is her home. She might not own her apartment, but she has lived here for over thirty years.

Mrs. Roach sits up straight half a second after the fine hairs on my body stand to attention. Christian’s elf outfit is ruined.He’s covered in a soot that looks oddly similar to health-harming mold.

He announces Mrs. Roach’s worst fear. “There is mold. However”—I don’t breathe while waiting for him to continue—“not enough to warrant an eviction.” He shifts his eyes to me. “I can’t say the same for the building’s structure.” I attempt to interrupt him, so he speaks faster. “A pipe appears to have been cracked for some time. A lot of damage occurred to the trusses of your apartment and the one next door.”

“What does that mean?” Mrs. Roach asks when the tension becomes too much for her to ignore.

“It means you’ll need to move until repairs are done.”

I don’t pay any attention to the snippet of hope in his tone. “No.”

Christian’s eyes snap to me. “It’s not safe to live here. The structure is compromised.”

I shoot up to my feet, needing to pace. “I don’t care.”

“You may not, but I do,” he bites back. “It isn’t safe.”

“Says the guy willing to do anything to force me out of my home.”

“This hasnothingto do with that assignment.”

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