Page 49 of Christmas Kisses

My stomach gurgles when my attempt to contact my lawyer is thwarted by a voicemail message. Their office is closed until the new year, and I don’t have a leg to stand on since I forwardedall the documents about my wrongful eviction to my lawyer last week.

3

CHRISTIAN

“You can’t honestly expect me to sharemyapartment with a stranger becauseyoumade a mistake four days from Christmas.”

The blonde who kept my towel knotted to my body without the need for hip thrusts her hand at me during the “stranger” part of my reply. I dressed while she demanded an immediate meeting with the building supervisor, but my cock is still acting as if not a piece of clothing is wedged between us.

“I have a lease.”

“That has been contested for over three years,” Mrs. Richler replies. “I also saw you sneaking out of the underground garage with a box,an extremely large moving box. So, understandably, I assumed you had finally moved on.”

“SexMart was having a sale. One hundred dollars perbox.” The blonde kicks the box she arrived with. “I took abigbox. Luckily”—Mrs. Richler’s cheeks inflame when she pulls a massive flesh-colored dildo out of said box—“or where would I have hidden these during my thirty-mile bus trip home?”

When she waves around a dildo not firm enough for penetration, for some stupid reason, my eyes shift to her ears,and then laughter bubbles in my chest. It is ridiculous of me to do and highly immature, but you can’t see the images filtering through my head as I imagine her trying to shove the gigantic lifelike dildo into her ear.

“Christian.” Mrs. Richler chastises me like she’s my mother, barely controlling my laughter.

My chuckles can’t be helped, and I’m not the only one amused. The blonde only strays her eyes my way for half a second before a cheeky grin stretches across her gorgeous face.

Her mind is as deviant as her body—cheekily corrupt.

This is proven without doubt when she mutters, “Fortunately for me, the strap-on needed to test out this big boy on anunwantedhouseguest slipped between the cracks of the many otheremasculatingtoys I brought home with me.”

The burning of my throat is heard in my reply. “There are hotels close by, right?”

The blonde smiles in victory.

Mrs. Richler is on the opposite end of the scale.

“There is, but with Christmas only four days away, they’re all booked out.”

The blonde folds her arms over her chest, highlighting her fantastic tits. “Not my problem.”

When shown through this apartment, I pictured a lady in her mid-sixties with a hundred stories of her youth. The furniture is dated and covered with plastic, the bed sheets are floral, and the one towel I found had a hand-stitched lace edge.

If you had told me someone in their early twenties lived here, I would have never believed you. So saying I was shocked when Mrs. Richler announced my target recently turned twenty-four is an understatement. I was blindsided.

Mrs. Richler sighs. “Have a heart, Angel.”

Angel?Is that her name, or because she is too fucking perfect for any other nickname? She has ruddy lips, perfect tits, and aface that would have any man with a pulse checking for the scars the removal of her wings would have caused. She is a stunningly beautiful woman.

Considering my objective for flying halfway across the world on a whim only days out from Christmas, that is thelastthing I should notice.

I stop admiring Angel’s sweltering curves when Mrs. Richler mutters, “Your mother would be rolling in her grave if she could hear you now.”

“Hey. That’s not cool. Don’t do that.” I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you think you are worth. Never use a person’s dead parent against them. “Angel was here first, and she clearly doesn’t feel comfortable with me sharing her space, so I’ll find somewhere else to stay until another apartment becomes available.”

I’ve only just collected my suit jacket from the chair I tossed it over mere minutes ago when I’m interrupted by the person I was hoping would throw me a lifeline. “That could be weeks away. Possibly months.”

“It’s all good.” I place on my jacket and then spin to face Angel. “As you said, my housing situation isn’t your problem.” A smile tugs at her lips when I murmur, “Though you have me tempted to download the Airbnb app.” When she grimaces at the end of my reply, I realize Mrs. Richler is unaware of her side gig. “Because your tip earlier about pool houses being vacant during winter could get me out of the pickle I’m in.”

Angel seems remorseful for her earlier words, but if my intuition is anything to go by, it has more to do with me standing up for her than an error in processing a tenancy application. “Do you have someone you can bunk with? Any family or friends nearby?” Her tone dips with jealousy. “A girlfriend?”

I fiddle with the lapels of my jacket while using her unexpected neurosis against her. A woman as beautiful as hershould never experience jealousy, but I’m confident it’s the cause for the spasm in her jaw, so I run with it. “I’m new to the area. All my acquaintances are back home.” She looks more miffed than pleased by my reply, so I unexpectedly drop my guard. “I also don’t have a girlfriend…anymore. I moved across the globe for a new start to avoid watching her marry my best friend.” Since my reply is honest, it sounds that way. I just fail to mention we broke up five years ago, and it was amicable.

Angel is still apprehensive as she inches closer, but since it is more based on her neurosis than mine, I act ignorant. “Ravenshoe is facing a horrific rental crisis.” She shifts her eyes to Mrs. Richler and narrows them. “Hence me fighting for the tenants with years left on their pre-boom agreement.” Her eyes are back on me. “But I don’t want their mistakes to affect you.” She groans her following words like she’s never had a stranger bunk in her spare room. “So you can stay here, with me, until my lawyer’s office opens in the new year or one of the nearby hotels has a vacancy.” She watches the bob of my throat as I swallow my relief. “But…”

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