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“And the sewing machine?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Do you know anything about putting on a pageant?” Ben asked, clearly worried about my credentials.
“Oh, honey, what don’t I know about pageants?”
Ethan
Kristen was in the cramped office, the books Mom always kept so meticulously spread out all over the top of the desk. There was the motion-sensor singing snowman Dad inexplicably loved. But there was no sign of Dad.
And no sign of Lexie.
I closed the door behind me and the snowman started singing.
“I thought you took the batteries out of that thing,” I said.
“Dad put them back.”
“You haven’t seen—”
“Your wife?” Kristen asked, turning to me like a cat with a mouth full of canary.
I sighed and internally prepared myself for the Kristen Kringle Interrogation, which sometimes, no matter how I answered, ended with a nipple twist. “How did you find out?”
“She told me, Ethan. Your Vegas showgirl wife who you must have married…when?”
“Last Christmas,” I said. “When I was down there securing the United Earth deal.”
“Was it a dare?” Kristen asked. “Or a joke? Like, I’m trying to imagine a world where Golden Boy Ethan Kringle gets married to a Vegas showgirl—”
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“Oh, I do, Ethan. I really think I do. You married her and forgot to tell us? Have you been keeping her a secret all this time?”
“I don’t remember marrying her,” I said.
“What?” she cried. “You’ve been married for a year and forgot? What is wrong with you?”
“There was tequila involved.”
“Oh, well that explains some of it. You’re a real lightweight on tequila.”
“Do I need to remind you of your high school graduation?”
“Fine.” She lifted her hand. “Point taken. But what are you going to do with her?”
“Do with her?” I knew what I’d like to do with her, but she’d made herself clear about that last night. “I’m getting to know her.”
“Getting to know your one-night stand wife. To what end?”
Oh, typical Kristen. “I wouldn’t have married her if there wasn’t something between us.”
“Yeah, her boobs. Which are—” she lifted her eyebrows “—fabulous.”
“Don’t,” I said. “I know it’s out of character…”
“Yeah, like attack of the body-snatchers out of character.”
“While she’s here she’s working at the front desk because she’s a front desk master.”
“Maybe you should have a conversation with her about her clothes.”
“Fuck no. I like her clothes.”
“But what about your campaign for mayor?”
“What about it?”
“You think people are just going to be okay with you getting drunk and marrying a Vegas show girl?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I am. People know me. They won’t judge me if I made a mistake.”
“Oh, Ethan, you can’t be that naïve.”
“I’m not.”
“Look, they might leave you alone but the town is going to be all over her if they find out you’re married.”
“Why, because she’s gorgeous? Because she’s not from around here? Because-“
“They’re going to think she’s a stripper!” Kristen said and then went absolutely white.
Shit, I thought. Shit. Shit.
I turned and saw Lexie standing there.
11
Ethan
She’d put holly in her hair and the wide neck of her red sweater had slipped down over her shoulder and I wanted to worship at her collarbone.
“Lexie,” I said, trying to steamroll over the awkward silence. “I’m—”
“If I could strip, trust me, I would,” she said. “But I’m great in a kick line and total shit on a pole. It’s a rhythm thing, and I think a hip thing. I’m not sure. But those girls make bank and at the good clubs they get a lot of respect. And the ones that work at the shitty clubs don’t have a lot of great choices and they’re doing the best they can. I understand you think it’s a negative thing, but that’s on you. Not on those girls.”
“I’m sorry,” Kristen said, her face set in sincere lines. I tried to think of the last time I heard her apologize and couldn’t come up with anything. This could be a first for her. “You’re absolutely right. I was being an jerk.”
Lexie nodded, accepting the apology, and then turned to me. She was wearing skintight leggings and a red sweatshirt that didn’t stay on her body and was cut just below her breasts.
“We’ll keep our marriage under wraps,” she said, and I knew she’d heard me call it a mistake. “I wouldn’t have said anything to Kristen but I got a little flustered. From now on, I’m just a girl you hired to work the front desk.” She turned to leave the office but then ducked back in. “Do you have a sewing machine?”
“Umm…yeah.” Kristen said. “I mean it’s old, but my mom had one. Why?”
“Because I’m doing a Christmas pageant with the kids staying at the inn. It will be awesome. Spread the word.”
And then she was gone. Kristen and I were not known for being speechless. But we stared at each other opened-mouthed and then my sister, whose hair I’d held back while she threw up the night of her high school graduation, started laughing.
