A Hope River Christmas by Margaret McHeyzer

Author:Margaret McHeyzer [McHeyzer, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2021-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

“I think you should let Charlie or me come over and pick you up, so you can stay here tonight and have Christmas morning with us, Hope and River, and Elle, Jake and Ezra,” I say to Aunt May.

“Now listen here, Tabby, I’m going to tell you what I told those other two.” I take a breath and wait for the rant. “I’m staying home tomorrow because it’s the only day of the year I can sleep in, and enjoy my own company.”

“Aunt May,” I sigh as I stretch on our bed and look up at the ceiling. “You didn’t come to Christmas last year either.”

“And I won’t be coming next year either. I’ll see you all at the Boxing Day festival.”

“Aunt May…”

“No, I’m not coming. You have a good Christmas Day and give everyone a kiss for me, I have to go, because I have things to do.”

She hangs up, leaving me frustrated but not really surprised. “Ugh,” I groan, disheartened by her stubborn ways. A horrid aroma wafts into the bedroom, warning me that if I don’t get up now, Charlie will destroy the kitchen with whatever he’s attempting to cook. He’s ordinarily not too bad at cooking basic food, but whatever he’s attempting smells horrendous.

Charlie’s totally decked the house out, hanging mistletoe from every doorway. Lights adorn nearly every window. The Christmas tree is so massive it nearly touches the ten-foot-tall ceilings. I walk through the hallway, and smile at how festive and sweet the entire house is. If it was up to me, I’d have a Christmas tree up, and be done with it. But he’s so sentimental when it comes to Christmas, loving to decorate the entire house.

Dressed in only my panties and Charlie’s oversized t-shirt, I find him standing in front of the range in just his jeans, trying to make breakfast for us. I walk up and hug him from behind. “Whatcha making?” I ask as I kiss then peek over his shoulder.

“French toast,” Charlie proudly states as he turns his head and kisses my cheek.

“You sure?” The smell makes me gag. “It doesn’t smell like it.”

Charlie turns on the spot, and grabs my ass. “Are you saying my cooking skills are lackluster?” He pinches my ass cheek and I smile.

“It depends. Will the truth offend you? I mean, how do you even fuck up French toast? It’s one of the easiest things to make.”

“Fine. You make it then.” He steps away, and tosses the spatula on the kitchen counter.

I narrow my eyes at him, and step toward the mixture he’s been using. “I know what you’re doing,” I say.

“What?” Charlie leans against the island counter and crosses his arms.

“What did you use in this?”

“Milk, sugar, and I thought I’d spice it up with a little wine.” I turn to stare at Charlie, my eyes narrowing and my forehead crinkling. “What?”

“Wine and milk?”

“Yeah, what?” He shrugs. “I thought I could surprise you by making you breakfast in bed.”

I slide the interesting concoction over to another burner on the range before turning it all off.

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