Christmas Carol

“Mierda, this place does belong to a grandmother. What was Sam thinking?

“Cyrus! Have you seen my niece yet?”

I let out a heavy sigh. How I ever got to be one of Ida Sue Lucas’s minions I don’t know. I like her. She’s a hell of a woman and the mother of a former player on the team I used to play on. Her and my buddy Parker are really tight and when she found out I was transferred to play in Montana she became my best friend—especially since apparently she has a family member that lives here in Mistletoe.

“I thought you said it was a cousin’s daughter?”

“It doesn’t matter, Cyrus. Family is family. You don’t need titles,” she mutters. “Now, have you seen my beautiful Carol yet and gave her the package?”

“Not yet. I just got in town, Ida Sue. I’ll do it in the morning.”

“Well, horse feathers. I was hoping you had met her. It’s important to have people you can count on in a new neighborhood, Cyrus.”

“Ida Sue, I think I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a while now,” I mutter. I start to sit down but I panic at the thought of sitting on the sofa. Instead, I lean against the breakfast bar that separates the living area from the kitchen.

“I know Cyrus, and I don’t mean to step on your tender man particles and all, but—”

“Tender man particles?”

“I know how sensitive you guys can be, but you’re a little on the skinny side, Cyrus,” Ida Sue says like she’s breaking something to me that’s going to physically or mentally pain me. I sigh.

“Ida Sue, I’m in peak condition,” I mutter, ignoring my injury, because it is healing.

“You need someone to look out for you until your unfortunate injury is healed. These things can be hard for a man,” she says, as if she’s horribly sad for me.

I resist the urge to grab my dick to make sure it wasn’t cut off and something is wrong with me. She’s making me sound pitiful.

“I’m fine, Ida Sue.”

“Oh, I know. But I also know how these things can get in a man’s head and cause… shall we say, delicate issues.”

“I can assure you. I have zero issues,” I all but growl.

“That’s good,” she says, but damn if I can’t hear the doubt in her voice.

What has she heard? What has Green and Parker been saying?

Carajo! I know it’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman, but it’s not like my dick hasn’t been able. I just don’t have a woman in my life and don’t have the time to worry about finding one. Although I have to admit that little morsel that lives next door did make my dick sit up and beg for attention. I’m still semi-hard just thinking about the way she was shaking her ass. She could be fun to toy with. But she’s obviously a Christmas fanatic and her dog is a pain in the ass. I don’t need that kind of baggage in my life. I have time for a quick fuck but doing that with a woman that might be my neighbor for the foreseeable future is bad mojo. I don’t need the issues that could cause.

“Did you hear me, Cyrus?” Ida Sue asks, and I remember I’m on the phone. I got lost thinking about my pretty—and curvy—neighbor.

“Sorry, what did you say Ida Sue?”

“I said, make sure you go by the bed and breakfast and give her the package tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it, Mi reina,” I respond with a smirk.

“My queen… I like that. I will need to work on getting my Jan to call me that…”

“Later, Ida Sue,” I laugh, hanging up and wondering if I should feel sorry for Ida Sue’s man. Hell, as much energy as that woman has, I should probably envy the bastard.

I spend the next few hours checking out the townhome. It’s not bad. I actually like the setup. There’s a large living room, with a small kitchen. They’re open to each other, although separated by a breakfast bar. There’s a hall to the right that leads to a large, spacious master with a huge en suite. There’s a laundry room and another small room that’s an office across from the master. Upstairs are two bedrooms that share a bath. It’s actually surprising how big it is for a townhome. The only issue I have is the décor. I wonder if I could load the owner’s shit up in one of those portable pod buildings and get my own stuff. The owner leased the place to me for six months. She’s apparently in Florida. That’s the only details I have since my agent arranged the whole thing. I told her I didn’t want to buy property here and she said I couldn’t afford it anyway. This was her compromise when I told her I wasn’t living in a damn bed and breakfast where Ida Sue’s family ran it. I really didn’t want to live there when I found out it was called Kringle’s Bed and Breakfast.