Page 3 of Tangled in Mistletoe

I try to shake my nervousness aside as I enter the small bed-and-breakfast and ring the bell. A plump woman in her early seventies hurries to the desk to greet me. She has kind eyes behind her round glasses. And her warm smile reminds me of my grandmother.

“How can I help you, dear?”

“I’m Zeva Dixon, I reserved a room.”

Her smile fades. “Oh, dear.”

“Oh, dear?” This doesn’t sound promising.

She collapses in the chair behind the counter and fans her face. Alarmed, I rush to her side. “Are you okay? Should I call someone?” I cover her hand.

She closes her eyes. “No, no, he’ll just make a fuss.” She pats my hand.

Who? I furrow my brows in confusion.

“I’m plum, sorry, honey. I rented your room.”

“What? But…”

“Usually Eleanore takes care of these sorts of things, but I gave her the day off on account it’s her son’s fifth birthday. Lucky guy.” She chuckles. “getting so many presents in onemonth. I called you dear.” She pats my hand again. “When you didn’t answer?—”

“You rented my room.”

“I’m plum, sorry. You young folks are always changing your minds. I just thought this was one of them times.”

I’m extremely disappointed, but it’s best not to cause her more anguish. “Is there another hotel I can stay at?”

“This time of the year?” She shakes her head. “And with all the festivities approaching, I doubt this town will have a free room available for a week.”

I swallow. This isn’t good at all.

“What about the person who checked in? Can they find another lodging?”

“I can ask, since it’s your room and all. But I’ll be mighty sorry to put a pregnant woman out.” She peeks at me from under her lashes.

I squeeze her hand, understanding the cause of her distress. Even if the couple weren’t expecting a baby, I doubt I have the heart to turn them out. Much less have this sweet old woman do such a horrid deed. “No need to worry Mrs. —“

“Call me Francis.”

“I’ll think of something, Francis.” I reassure her. Straightening, I hesitated before leaving, unsure of my next move.

“Wait!” She hurries around the counter. “My nephew lives in town and he’s got an entire house to himself. If you’ll stay with him, as soon as a room opens up, I’ll send for you.” She presses a sticky note into my hand and marches out the door. I’m treated as if I’d forgotten to run her errands.

CHAPTER TWO

ANDREAS

Iswing my door open, ready to tell the woman on the other side in no uncertain terms that my house isn’t an extension of Francis’s bed-and-breakfast. No matter what my aunt promised, I like my solitude. But my words get caught in my throat when she smiles up at me with lips that are both sensuous and naughty. Dark curls, thick and soft like raven wings, frame her heart-shaped face and smooth, ebony complexion, inviting my fingers to tangle in their spirals. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulders, putting her a smidge over five feet tall.

“Hi,” she says.

Her voice nestles into my chest, soft, comforting, and soothing. “Hi.” The one word sounds gruff, even to my ears.

Then her smile broadens, shattering my boundaries. No wonder my aunt couldn’t say no to this woman. Who could, when she went around smiling like that? I clench my fingers around the door frame.

As she stares up at me, I notice the slightest quiver on her lips. And I have a strange urge to kiss her. To find out if that quiver radiates throughout her entire body.

“I’m Zeva.”

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