Mischief Under The Mistletoe

by Maren Smith

  IT WAS A SHORT WHILE later, when Andi was asleep that Max took Marlie back to his bedroom. He’d never expected to meet anyone that he could love as much as Leslie, but the fat man in the red suit had proved him wrong too. There were lots of different ways to love someone, and this beautiful girl had stolen his heart.

  He knew Marlie wasn’t where she needed to be yet as far as Aspen was concerned, but she’d made good headway. She might need a therapist to fully work out all her feelings, he didn’t know. He just knew that he would be there to get her whatever help she might need so she could forgive herself and accept that it wasn’t her fault. And he would be there to deal with Tristan, should the need arise.

  “You’ve had the spanking, now it’s time for the loving,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Can’t I have both?” she teased. Suddenly she clapped her hands and ran to the window. “Look! It’s snowing. I love snow.” Her eyes sparkled like jewels when she looked back at him.

  Max came up behind her. “Yes, you can have both,” he replied in answer to her first question. They watched in comfortable silence as the heavy plops of snow began to cover the ground outside and slide down the window. “Merry Christmas, Marlie,” he whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe.

  She turned and slid her arms up around his neck. “Merry Christmas to you too, Max. Savannah said you were a keeper and she was right.”

  He picked her up and strode with her to the bed. “You’re the keeper, Marlie, and I plan to keep you over my lap and in my bed for the rest of our lives.”

  “Aww... you say the sweetest things.”

  EPILOGUE

  ONE YEAR TO THE DAY, Marlie was sitting on the sofa downstairs with her son, Maximus William the second, safely ensconced in her arms. he tree was beautifully decorated with Christmas lights, and their twinkling shadows fell across Max and Marlie the shelf elves sitting under the heavy branches and leaning against brightly wrapped packages.

  Marlie’s heart was full and overflowing as she watched Max teasing Andi by lifting her gift to him and shaking it to determine what might be in it. Andi’s little fists flew to her hips indignantly. “No, Daddy, you’re not supposed the shake the presents,” she scolded. She took the package from him and put it back under the tree. “You have to wait until Christmas morning!”

  “What about this one?” teased Max as he picked up another box.

  “Mommy, Daddy’s doing it again,” came the plaintive wail from Andi to Marlie.

  Max laughed and grabbed Andi to tickle her until she was gasping with laughter. Then he popped her on her nose with his finger. “And now you know how I feel when you shake the packages,” he told her, his eyes twinkling down at her.

  Andi jumped up with a childish giggle. “Okay, Daddy. I won’t shake them anymore if you won’t.”

  “Deal. “And now it’s time for bed. Give Mommy and Max a kiss and I’ll tuck you in.”

  “Be right back,” Max whispered in Marlie’s ear.

  Marlie nodded, her fingers playing with her son’s tiny hand, counting the fingers once again. Little Max was two weeks old and he had his father’s eyes. He’d been born healthy and strong in spite of her misgivings and worries.

  And there had been plenty.

  But his father had been with her every step of the journey, holding her hand, loving her, supporting her in every possible way.

  She looked over at Max as he eased his long frame down beside her. “Andi all settled?”

  “Yes, she was pretty tired. She was ready for bed,” he replied, slipping his finger into the baby’s tiny grasp. “How’s our son?”

  “Sleeping, as usual,” she quipped. “That’s all he does right now, besides filling his diaper and guzzling my milk.”

  Max grinned and nuzzled her neck. “And how’s my beautiful wife?”

  Marlie smiled up at him. That low gravelly voice still did things to her insides. “She’s loving you more than ever.”

  “So, are you finally able to forgive Santa this year?” he teased.

  She nodded. “I think so. The rat bastard really outdid himself this year.”

  “Marlie!”

  “What? It’s true.”

  He tsked and popped her on the nose. “I can see it’s been too long since you were over my knee. Your language is deteriorating again.”

  “It’s been too long for a few other things too,” she whispered throatily, “but I’ll just have to be patient.”

  “I can see keeping you in line is going to be a full-time job,” he replied ruefully.

  “Just as long as you keep me, copper,” she taunted, her eyes shining with love.

  “Oh, I’m keeping you,” he promised. “I’m never letting you go.”

  “Aw... you say the sweetest things.” She patted his cheek lovingly and then pointed toward the ceiling above them. “In your endeavor to put mistletoe under every door jamb and any other place you could think of this Christmas, including above our bed, you forgot about the sofa,” she taunted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Max looked around in disgust and then he slipped his hand beneath her chin. “Who needs mistletoe anyway?” he growled as his mouth closed on hers. It was one surefire way to keep her saucy tongue quiet for a while.

  Marlie purred with satisfaction. Yep, he was a keeper alright, a real Christmas keeper.

  The End

  Merry Christmas, all you lovely readers out there! If you enjoyed Marlie’s Christmas Keeper and the other Christmas stories in this anthology, please give us authors a Christmas present and leave a review on Amazon!

  Much love and tidings of the season!

  Brandy Golden

  BRANDY GOLDEN

  As for me, I love books of all genres, but nothing better than a good romance story. There is no limit to the imagination. The mind can travel anywhere and a well written book is the transportation to exciting places where anything you can dream can happen. Alpha, take charge, protective heroes are always my favorite men and I love writing about them. If the feisty heroine gets herself in trouble and gets a well-deserved spanking, that's just the icing on the cake.

  I have lived in the midwest most of my life but have ventured into at least half of the fifty states and found plenty of inspiration for my books. I love history and do a lot of research when planning a book so I can be as realistic as possible in my time periods and settings. I want my readers to have a great experience and feel like they are in the setting as they follow the storyline.

  I have a great family which includes five wonderful children and a patient husband. I’ve been writing for several years now and I hope you enjoy reading my stories as much as I love creating them for you.

  Brandy Golden

  FIND BRANDY HERE:

  Website: https://brandygolden.com/

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  http://eepurl.com/c4Ep35

  THE CHALET

  Delia Grace

  CHAPTER ONE

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  The sound of the icicles dripping off the roof was driving me batty. I also really had to pee and the watery serenade was making it worse. But Francis wasn’t back from his break yet, and we really weren’t supposed to leave the desk unmanned.

  Sighing, I flipped through the reservation book one more time. A week ago, we had been booked solid for the holidays; that’s why I was doing both front desk and housekeeping. But a lot of people had cancelled due to the awful weather we were having. We had a “cancel for any reason” policy, and people sometimes took advantage of it. The owners weren’t crying over the lost business though. They were already in Germany with their relatives. Whether we had one guest or one-hundred, Francis and I were stuck here.

  So far, we had a couple of families; on
e with snotty teenagers, and the other with snot-nosed preschoolers—opposites of each other, but both just as distasteful. I hated families. At least the ones who came here. Every child acted as if they were entitled to having me as their personal slave, and every parent acted as if I was their nanny. If I wasn’t firm from the moment we met, they would try to dump the kids off on me their entire stay. That wasn’t part of my job description. We had a local girl who came and babysat on an as-needed basis, but it was the holidays. She was going to be busy with her own family. I squeezed my legs together.

  Where on earth was Francis? His smoke break was supposed to be up ten minutes ago. I bet he was flirting with that new barkeep from the village. Ugh. She was the quintessential “Swiss Miss from the Alps”. I was convinced that if he went home with her, he’d find lederhosen in her underwear drawer.

  The phone rang. I waited, hand extended over it, until the second ring was fully completed. Mrs. Haverty insisted we not answer until two complete rings because it made us appear more busy, and because it could be “quite alarming” for the person on the other end if our answer was too abrupt.

  “Hello, The Chalet, this is Addi speaking. How may I assist you?”

  “Adelaide. How many times do I need to remind you, dear, it’s Adelaide. Your full name sounds much more distinguished.”

  I rolled my eyes, but kept my tone neutral. “I apologize, Mrs. Haverty. How may I help you?”

  “I know that with the nasty weather we likely lost some business. Do we have the Alpine Suite available?”

  I looked in the book. “Yep. the Russells booked it, but they cancelled last night. Their jet couldn’t make it through the storm, and they ended up going to New York, instead.”

  “Excellent. Some dear friends of ours, Antonio and Natalie Flores, are already in Europe and their travel wouldn’t be inhibited by the storms. They were coming to visit us for the New Year, but had the opportunity to come sooner and spend Christmas week as well. Please make up the suite and personally care for them during their visit. Spare no expense. As I’ve said, they are dear friends.”

  I nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t see me through the phone line. “Yes, Mrs. Haverty. The very best, Godiva on their pillow and champagne in their whirlpool.”

  I could swear I heard Mrs. Haverty clapping in glee before she abruptly hung up.

  Rolling my eyes again, I marked their names into the book. She hadn’t said exactly how long they would be here, but since she had mentioned the New Year, I crossed out through the first week in January. It was a start, at least.

  Finally, Francis sauntered up with a stupid doe-eyed grin on his face.

  “Oh my goodness, Francis! How does a ten-minute smoke break turn into all afternoon?”

  I didn’t even give him a chance to explain, just grabbed the key ring and rushed to the bathroom. After I was done “freshening up”, I trudged up to the top floor to the Alpine Suite. It was my favorite spot in the chalet. Sometimes when we didn’t have any guests up here, I’d sneak away and sit in the window seat and daydream for hours about what life would be like if I didn’t have to be so grown up. I’d spent a lot of time researching my desires, and the nearest thing I could come up with was age-play. But, even that didn’t seem quite right, because most of the material I came across online was very sexual. And, I didn’t want to pretend to be a kid while I was having sex. I wanted to play like a child, be treated like a child, essentially be a child.

  I knew it was a stupid daydream, but that’s what it was—a dream and not reality. It was something I didn’t have to share with anyone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE SUITE WAS GLORIOUS. Instead of separate rooms like most of our suites, the Alpine was one giant space. One wall was taken up with built in bookshelves, another a massive cushioned window seat. There was a white marble Jacuzzi the size of a small pool with a waterfall effect bubbling the hot water into the tub. The entire suite had skylights and faced the mountains. The white of the snow was almost blinding. Turning slowly, I grinned at my favorite part of the room. Taking up more floor space than any piece of furniture had the right to was a massive bed. It was double the size of a king-size bed! And this bed was built into the floor. You didn’t climb up into it, you sank down. It was like lying on a cloud. Making it, however, was a massive pain in the butt. Thankfully, the mattress had a lift under it so I didn’t have to dig down to find the edges. But it took custom made sheets and was awful to deal with. I squinted, trying to remember the last time we had someone up here. Mrs. Haverty’s rule was a week—if it had been more than a week, the bed had to be remade, but I thought that was ridiculous. I knew the bedding was clean from the last clients. Flopping on the bed, there was no dust, and it smelled like fresh linen. Passed my muster. Sighing listlessly, I closed my eyes for a second.

  And, that was my undoing. Because the next thing I knew, Francis was yelling and a male and female were laughing, and I was jerking out of a very deep slumber.

  “Shoot!” I stood up in the middle of the mattress and promptly fell flat onto my face—darn cloud of perfection was impossible to walk on. Crawling to the edge of the bed and finally getting my footing, I stammered to the couple. “Oh, gosh, I am so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Flores. My name is Addi, uh, Adelaide. I’m your concierge for the visit. I came in to change the sheets and prepare everything for your arrival, and I, umm...” I couldn’t think of an even remotely logical excuse for how I came to be sleeping in the middle of their $2000 per night luxury accommodations.

  I dropped my hands in defeat, and stared at my toes, before steeling myself and looking up at them with my, “I work with elitists every day of my life and I know how to deal with them” gaze.

  “Of course, I will see about getting the entire room ready for your arrival, I apologize for the...less than pristine conditions, and we will, of course, comp you anything you’d like this evening.” I remembered belatedly that this entire trip was on the Haverty’s dime anyway, but at least it sounded good.

  Mrs. Flores laughed. “It’s all right, sweetie. This room is amazing. It could mesmerize anyone into a deep sleep. Were the sheets clean?”

  I hesitated a second and then nodded. “Yeah, I had just changed the bedding. But, of course, I’ll redo them. I only need a moment to go collect the correct bedding.”

  They are clean. I defended my lie in my head

  Mrs. Flores shook her head. “No, don’t be silly. One little girl sleeping on top of our bed couldn’t possibly have soiled anything. Unless you wet yourself. Do you wet the bed, Adelaide?”

  She looked at me with piercing blue eyes and a smile that cut through to my very soul.

  I shook my head slowly at first, and then shook myself out of my reverie.

  With a forced laugh, I finally spoke. “Of course I didn’t wet myself, Mrs. Flores. Everything should be in pristine...” Crap, I’d already said that. “Uh very... good... condition?”

  I wiped my hands on my slacks. I felt very uncomfortable with this entire interaction. Something about this couple unnerved me. Pausing, I took in their physical attributes. Mrs. Flores was slightly shorter than me, but had a very confident and authoritative presence. She had chin length deep brown hair with red highlights, black glasses over her bright blue eyes, and a business suit and heels covering her velvety sepia skin. I didn’t have to touch it to know it would feel like soft velvet. And the business suit and heels didn’t make her appear dumpy, but sexy as all get out.

  Mr. Flores hadn’t spoken up until this point, but he didn’t seem any less dominant than his wife. He was tall and dark in a grey suit with a deep red tie. Everything about him was dark. His hair was jet black and perfectly styled, no glasses covered his almost black eyes, and his mouth had been in a smirk since I’d stumbled out of the bed.

  I blinked, realizing the room was deadly silent and everyone was staring at me. Crap. They must have asked me something. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  It was Mr. Flores who spok
e this time, in a very quiet tone. I couldn’t place his accent, Spain? Greece? With a name like Flores, I’d assume Spain, but you could never be sure.

  “I was wondering if you could receive some packages for us. We had all of our Christmas gifts shipped here. I’d like to show my bride the sights, and cannot be certain we will return in time for the shipment.”

  I nodded and backed toward the door. “Certainly. Should I arrange the room, as well?”

  He smiled. “That would be perfect, thank you.”

  “If there’s anything else you need, please let me know. I’m available to you for your entire stay. Please think of me as your personal concierge.”

  Exiting as quickly as I politely could, I ran downstairs to the lavatory to look in the mirror. My face appeared normal; I don’t know how. I’d felt like it would be solid red. Splashing some cold water on it, I took a breath. They had startled me out of a deep sleep. That’s why their presence affected me the way it did. It had nothing to do with the dominance that exuded from the two of them. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BACK AT THE FRONT DESK, I saw scribbles in the book indicating that even more patrons had canceled while I was away. This was going to be the slowest Christmas season ever. Staring into the huge fake tree we had lit up in the center of the room, I let my mind wander a bit. What would it be like to feel their gazes wash over me again? What if I did something wrong like break a lamp or, heaven forbid, they’d caught me in my lie about changing the sheets? Would their looks be angry or more disappointed? Were they yellers? Would they throw things like divas were sometimes apt to do? I hadn’t felt like they were the violent type. Actually, I’d felt like Mrs. Flores would have lectured me firmly and then sent me to bed without supper. There was something matronly about her. Not her appearance, but...something.