Page 6 of Mountain Man's Naughty Elf
I groaned, rolling over to check the time. 7:38 AM. Later than I usually slept, but the howling wind had kept me up half the night. That, and the knowledge that a strange woman—a very strange one—was sleeping on my couch and being hunted by the town's mayor, of all people.
The metallic clang of a pan being set down propelled me out of bed. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a thermal shirt before descending the stairs from my loft bedroom, preparing to assess whatever damage my uninvited guest had caused.
I halted at the bottom of the stairs.
My kitchen—my precisely arranged, minimalist kitchen—had been transformed into what looked like the aftermath of a baking competition. Flour dusted the countertops. Eggshells and measuring cups cluttered the sink. And there, humming "Jingle Bells" while expertly flipping something in my cast-iron skillet, stood Pepper.
She wore my clothes—a flannel shirt that hung to her mid-thigh and sweatpants rolled up multiple times at the ankles. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she'd apparently abandoned the ridiculous elf shoes, padding around my kitchen in thick wool socks. My socks.
"What," I said flatly, "are you doing?"
She spun around, spatula raised like a weapon, then broke into a smile that was far too cheerful for the early hour. Or any hour, in my opinion.
"Good morning, sunshine! Hope you like pancakes."
I approached the stove, inspecting the skillet. "Those aren't pancakes."
"Sure they are. Christmas pancakes." She flipped one onto a waiting plate, revealing its distinct evergreen tree shape. Next to it sat something vaguely resembling a snowman and what I assumed was supposed to be Santa's face. "I found a squeeze bottle of syrup in your cabinet. Makes for decent pancake art."
My jaw tightened as I surveyed the invasion of my carefully ordered space. "You went through my cabinets."
She had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Only the kitchen ones. You have a very...systematic organization method."
"Force of habit from the Marines." I ran a hand through my hair, mentally shifting to alert status despite the sleep still fogging my brain. Three years since Afghanistan, and I still categorized threats from least to most urgent: elf-on-the-run, ruined kitchen, bad weather.
"How long have you been up?" I asked.
"Couple hours. Couldn't sleep with all that going on." She gestured toward the windows, where the blizzard still raged unabated.
I gravitated to the coffee maker—at least she'd had the sense to brew a pot—and poured myself a mug.
"I hope you don't mind," she chirped, wielding the spatula with a flourish as she transferred the last misshapen pancake to the plate. "I figured making breakfast was the least I could do after you saved me from becoming a Christmas popsicle."
I grunted noncommittally, taking a long sip of coffee. It was good. Strong, the way I liked it.
"There's bacon keeping warm in the oven, too," she added, sliding the plate of festive pancakes across the counter toward me.
My stomach betrayed me with a growl. It had been a while since anyone had cooked for me. Years, probably.
"Thanks," I muttered, taking the plate.
She beamed as if I'd delivered a lengthy compliment. "You're welcome! I wasn't sure if you were a syrup or butter person, so I put out both."
I doctored the pancakes and took a bite. They were...surprisingly good. Fluffy, with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg I hadn't tasted since my mother's holiday breakfasts years ago.
Pepper watched expectantly, her bright green eyes fixed on my reaction.
"They're fine," I conceded.
Her smile widened. "High praise from the mountain man. I'll take it."
I took another bite to avoid responding, using the moment to actually look at her in proper light. Without the ridiculous costume and with the snow melted from her hair, I could see she was pretty. Not in the polished, artificial way of the few women I'd encountered in town during my rare supply runs, but in a vibrant, lively way that seemed to brighten even the winter-darkened cabin.
A detail from last night surfaced. "Your hat," I said. "The evidence is still in it?"
"Safe and sound." She pointed to the pointy green monstrosity drying near the fireplace, perched on top of her elf costume. "USB drive is tucked in the lining."
I nodded, relieved that at least that part of her wild story wasn't a hallucination. "Good."
