Page 20 of Mistletoe Missus
“Good,” Mitt said but turned to me with unreadable eyes. “Ready for your gift?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
Mitt held out his hand with a smile. “Follow me.”
The door opened, and my eyes gazed past the chauffeur up toward a massive white tent stacked on the ground. Snowy hilltops for as far as the eye could see granted me a beautiful scenery I had never known. Mother Nature in all her glorywith snowflakes falling and a gentle breeze in the mountains somewhere in Colorado.
“Mitt... this is beautiful,” I breathed in awe.
“Beauty deserves something beautiful,” Mitt said simply.
His words held meaning as he tenderly kissed my knuckles, and I got swept away in him like the windblown snowflakes sweeping into his tousled hair. Mitt’s handsome features left me speechless. I wasn’t only shocked by the lengths he’d go to for me, but by his handsome presence that was all mine.
“Come on, beautiful. We have our reception to attend.”
I followed Mitt as we walked hand in hand over an elegant carpet rolled out on top of the snow. Someone placed heated lanterns on either side of the carpet, which was set out as a runway leading underneath the tent. The warmth from them bit away at the chilled breeze and warmed my thundering heart.
“Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” a man welcomed us, dressed in a tuxedo, as he tugged a rope and the tent opened up.
I couldn’t believe the sight in front of me. Everything was incredible. Unbelievable. Unlike anything I had ever imagined experiencing. Mitt had done this reception all for me.
“This is too much,” I whispered as I took everything in.
There were bouquets of flowers, a table for two right by a dance floor, and a wedding cake. The bride and groom sat on top of a massive five-layer cake. There was a clear view of the sky overhead. White lights hung on strands from the ceiling of the tent and gave a nice soft glow to the inside against the cloudy skies from above.
This reception was perfect. Intimate. A masterpiece.
“No. This isn’t enough,” Mitt answered as he led me toward the table and pulled out my chair, his warm breath fanned over my shoulder. “You deserve so much more.”
Mitt left a gentle kiss on my skin and goosebumps came alive. I took my seat as my husband snapped his fingers andservers came rushing with food. Turkey, stuffing, gravy, roasted potatoes, butternut squash, brussels sprouts, and warm buns. The ideal Christmas meal for a festive wedding.
“This is incredible.”
Everything looked delicious, and my mouth watered. I could not hold back—I was starving after such an ordeal. Everything was happening so quickly that I had forgotten to eat, and my stomach grumbled at the sight of all the appetizing food. Not to mention our gigantic wedding cake for dessert.
Mitt took his seat. “Dig in. You look famished, Wife.”
Wife.
The way the word rolled off his tongue made me glance up at Mitt. His eyes were hooded from the low lighting, but I could sense his stare on me. His hazel hued eyes pierced me as he watched me reach for the food and place servings on my plate. The way he watched me pick up my fork and eat some turkey with gravy on top. Goodness. The meat was divine to the point I almost moaned, but I closed my eyes and devoured some more. Salty, sweet, and spicy mixed all together. All the flavors were warm on my taste buds, and a shiver ran down my spine. My eyes opened, only to find my husband still peering at me like I was his newest obsession.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked with food in my mouth.
Very unladylike of me, but Mitt’s plate was empty. He hadn’t moved a muscle since I last glanced at him. All he did was observe my every move as I shoveled food in my face because I had worked up an appetite. God. He’d think I was a damn pig!
Mitt answered, “No.”
“You’ve got to be starving,” I added as I reached for a bun and buttered it with a knife.
“I am. But for something far more addicting.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Not what. Who?”
“Okay. Who?” I questioned as I took a bite of the bread and chewed.
“My wife.”
