Page 2 of Her Yule His Log

“No answer? Here, wait a second, I’ll call my assistant,” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at me.

That rankled. I mean, I was not dressed fashionably or anything. I’d had a long drive. Leggings and a sweater with a giant snowman on it worked fine for me. But apparently his highness here expected something better.

“Yeah, Gil? I have a guest here, I need you to contact someone from the resort and find another cabin for a miss—what’s your last name?” he asked.

“Leonidis. Natalie Leonidis.”

“Miss Leonidis,” the ridiculously handsome man said into the receiver.

I was confused, tired, and hungry. Not to mention, disappointed. No way was I giving up my cabin, dammit. I’d spent far too many hours trying to pick the right place for this little getaway.

After the stranger hung up, he turned to me and indicated I should sit. I didn’t like being told what to do, never had, so I crossed my arms and glared.

“You told him to find me a new cabin, but this is the one I rented,” I began.

“As did I, and I am already here,” he said, plating up his steak.

My mouth watered and my stomach growled. Embarrassment filled me, but what was I going to do? I’d only had a granola bar during the drive, and I was counting on that steak, which I had specifically asked for when I painstakingly filled out my preferences for food for the weekend.

“You’re eating my steak,” I said.

“Your steak?” he asked, eyebrows flying sky high.

But even that shocked expression did nothing to take away from his attractiveness. I mean, really? Did he need all those muscles or those cheekbones? And for fuck’s sake, was that a cleft in his chin? Why men were the prettier of the sexes, I hadno idea, but it was grossly unfair. He didn’t even have wrinkles, and he was definitely over forty. It was almost too much.

Maybe that was why I resorted to arguing over his meal,er, make thatmy meal. I should have stopped. It wasn’t as if I needed to draw any more attention to the fact I like food. The man had eyes and the size of my ass was not something I could hide, especially in leggings.

“Yes. My steak. I spent half an hour filling out a form about what I wanted them to stock for me,” I said.

The stranger narrowed his eyes and looked at me again. I squirmed. Was he judging me? I was used to that. Being a plus-sized woman meant people judged you for being hungry, but I was human. I ate.

My body just happened to hold on to what I ate a little longer than most. I liked to joke it was part of my Greek-Italian heritage, but really it was because I refused to give up carbs.

As a writer, I depended on snacks to get me through those patches of intense writing where I sometimes didn’t cook anything homemade for days. Sandwiches were great for those times. Anyway, my stomach growled again, and I saw him cock his head to the side.

He sliced the steak in half and grabbed another plate. After putting half the steak down on one, he added some sauteed green beans and a scoop of mashed potatoes onto each dish, handing me one.

“Do you drink whiskey?” he asked, and I nodded.

I wasn’t a connoisseur or anything, but I’d had it before.

“Want soda or do you take it neat?”

“Soda, please,” I replied.

His phone beeped as he poured, but he seemed unrushed. He handed me the drink and sat down, ignoring the message. We spent the next fifteen minutes eating and talking. I was surprised to see he had good taste in music and even better in books. Ispied a copy of my latest novel on the coffee table in the living room that sat just beyond where we were eating.

“You like to read?” I asked, nodding my head at the book.

“Yes. I find that author particularly talented,” he said easily.

“Do you?”

“Yes, he’s great.”

There it was.He’s great. Everyone always assumed N. Leo was a man. But maybe that was my fault for not using my full name. Either way, it was fine. In fact, it amused me. His phone beeped again, and I was impatient to see if it was his assistant.

“Any news?” I asked, taking a bite of the perfectly cooked meat, and trying not to moan.

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