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None the less, I had to be sure. “But seriously, is it decaf?”
“For your information, it’s decaf passionflower, chamomile, and rose green tea. My own blend and a bestseller in the gift shop.”
“Blech!” The sentiment was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Edgar made a grand re-entrance with, “What the hell, Mols, you having tea or drinking a friggin’ garden? That baby of yours is gonna revolt on principle alone. I would be kickin’ the daylights out of that big belly of yours if you made me ingest flowers pretending to be tea. That’s some craz…
Holding up my hand, thumb and middle finger poised to snap again, I gave Eddie ‘the look’ then laughed out loud as he swallowed his words, spun on his toes and tried to make a grand exit.
In his exuberance to be sure that: (A) I saw what he was doing. (B) Relayed said extreme and amazing display of angst and displeasure to Molly and Nate. And most importantly, (C) Felt bad for once again threatening to silence him, my eccentric Elf did exactly the opposite.
It was in grand style, but it was everything but dignified and something I will never ever never forget. Oh, and will remind him of at least once a day for the rest of our very long lives as partners, compatriots, and buddies.
Nose in the air, bell on the end of his pointed hat jingling like the chimes of St. Mary’s, his harrumph and grumble were legendary. Seriously, it would have been in any and all animated movies the Mouse ever wanted to put on the big screen. Throwing his left foot forward, the fluffy white ball adorning the tip of his elven slipper bounced and bobbled like it was Christmas morning, as Edgar shoved all his oomph and gusto into what was supposed to be a stomp.
Instead, the curly toe of said shoe got caught in the curly tip of said beard and my frumptasatic Familiar gave a whole new meaning to my granddad’s favorite expression – ‘ass over tea kettle’. Screaming at the top of his lungs in a language I am sure he was making up as he went, Eddie did three complete somersaults, derailed my toy train, knocked the bottom row of decorations from the tree, and finally stopped with his ass in the air, his head on the floor, and his back up against the five-foot Nutcracker – Niles - who stood guard by the front door.
“Oh, my Goddess,” Molly hooted, her laughter so contagious that I lost the battle to contain my own. “Please tell me you filmed that. If what actually happened came anywhere close to the image that Eddie’s screams and hollers conjured in my mind, that shit will go viral in a matter of minutes.”
“No,” I chuckled. “I didn’t even think to pick up my phone and hit the camera button. I was too busy watchin’ Elf booty roll all over my house.” Gasping for air, my giggles still getting the best of me, I added, “He bowled right over my train, and made the Nutcracker blush with a fabulous booty slam.”
“Shut. Up.” Edgar growled, rolling over onto his tummy, pushing up onto his knees, throwing his beard over his shoulder, then finally, getting to his feet. Slapping his red and green jacket so hard that the golden buttons jingled and jangled as they bumped together, he snarled, “I could’ve been killed. At the very least, thrown out my back, dislocated a shoulder, or for the sake of Rudolph’s nose, broken my leg, too? What if it wouldn’t heal like yours? What if we were both laid up and on crutches? Who would take care of you, Ella Bella Butthead?”
Head poking forward like a chicken pecking the ground as his tiny clenched fists slammed into his little hips, the sight of my frazzled Familiar’s outrage only served to pour gas on the flames of my laughter – not to mention Molly and Nate’s. We were laughing so hard, tears were running down our faces, we were gasping for air and all three of us were clapping or slapping our legs. It was the first ever ‘laugh riot’ I’d ever hosted, and damn was it fun.
But that didn’t stop Edgar. Oh, heck, no, he kept right on yelling.
“I’m all you’ve got. I’m the only one who can put up with your crazy, zany antics. I laugh at your jokes, help put glitter on anything and everything even though it makes me sneeze, roll the cookies in sugar when you forget, put the buttons on the gingerbread men and women, remember the recipe for Granny Brown’s fruitcake. I’m the only with enough patience and…”
“Oh, hush, ya’ old fuddy-duddy,” Molly scolded, her laughter making the reprimand all the worse for poor Edgar. “If you don’t watch it, you’ll be spending the holidays all by your lonesome, out there in that cabin in the middle of all that snow without so much as a drop of my famous eggnog to keep you warm or figgy pudding to fill your belly.”
“Yeah, well, I oughta… I mean, I should… Why don’t you…”
Once again laughter erupted on both ends of the phone, and this time I was quick enough to hit the facetime button so Molly and Nate could see my fickle Familiar in full stuttering splendor. On and on he went, stammering and spluttering, his cheeks getting redder by the second, his breath coming out in pants, and his little chest heaving like he’d just finished the Boston Marathon. Or what I thought they would look like if he ever so much as walked quickly in any direction but towards the refrigerator.
(Note: Edgar and I do not run. It’s in our contract. We might walk fast if the coffee is fresh and the cookies are warm. But running? Nope, not gonna happen.)
“Oh, go suck on Krampus’ toe,” he finally roared, tossing his incredibly long beard over his shoulder, spinning on his toes, and finally, making the grand and glorious exit he’d tried a few minutes before.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I let out a giggling sigh, “I swear, just when I think I’m gonna strangle that Elf, he does something like that, and I remember why I keep him ar…”
Turning the screen of the phone back towards my face, what I saw not only shocked the candy cane striped socks right off my feet, but threw me for a loop, and made my heart skip a beat. There he was. Just as gorgeous as the last time I saw him. Hardly aged at all in all those years. The handsomest man the Great Goddess and the Universe had ever created – Liam Archer.
“Hey, Ella.” His deep voice rumbled through the phone, sent chills up my spine, and wrapped around my heart.
I was hot and bothered and breathless.
I was speechless and stymied and ready to zap myself to Nowhere, USA just to be in the same room with him.
Damn it all to the Island of Misfit Toys and back, his smile was just the spark my libido needed to wake up after so very long, rev into overdrive, and tickle my lady parts. And those dimples, oh bless me Tannenbaum, those dimples needed my lips on them ASAP.
So, what did I do?
I squeaked like the mouse I was trying not to get turned into, juggled the phone from one hand to the other like it was a hot potato, and after slamming it back onto the table, disconnected the call as quickly as I could. Throwing my poor broken leg that wouldn’t heal off the chair it was propped on, I sprung onto my good foot, limped into the living room and threw myself onto the couch.
Grabbing the pillow I’d designed, constructed, and embroidered the Christmas tree on the front of all by myself with Granny Brown’s Sew-It-For-Yourself Spell, I smashed it to my face and screamed at the top of my lungs. After all, what’s a girl to do when she comes face-to-face with the one man in all the world made just for her, her one True Fated Mate, her Dragon, her hunka-hunka-burning love for the first time in a really long time?
Answer: Anything but what I did.
