The Snowmaiden, A Bride for Krampus - Jeanette Lynn Page 0,5
of that piling up white stuff already up to my tall snow boots. Standing out here less than ten minutes and my toes were already starting to prick. I supposed it wasn’t the best idea to go for the bargain buy when that could lead to regret; i.e. don’t buy cheap snow boots and then act surprised when you start to freeze your toes off in them. Oi.
Thankfully, I had a couple pairs of thick wool socks I could use to line the boots if need be. I just needed to lug all this crap into the den of a cabin Dad had loaned me and dig them out of my bag. Turning with a renewed sense of purpose, a mission to unfreeze these feet, I took a deep breath.
And then wished I hadn’t.
A garbled noise left me, followed by choking sounds.
“I don’t remember it being quite this… quaint,” I mumbled to myself.
Small didn’t even cover it. The phrase converted fishing shack came to mind, but in the small cabin’s defense, it was so covered with snow, the trees surrounding it, sidled up next to the little house in a way that made me worry for my safety if one of those monsters were to tumble, I couldn’t really say if it simply looked smaller due to all these factors or I’d just built it up to something larger in my mind.
“It’s bigger on the inside,” I said with a laugh, flicking my Tardis themed scarf over my shoulder, drawing the middle of it up over the lower half of my face to help chase the chill.
Thinking of the DVDs I’d brought hoping to initiate the little bros on all things Dr. Who, I hoped this woodpile had a TV and DVD player. Or working electricity, I thought, eyeing it critically.
Back into my car I quickly dove, nabbing up my laptop bag, as well. I could always watch the DVDs on that. I held out little hope there was Wi-Fi to use to log into my digital movies account and watch something that way or download a few books for my reading device. Dad had money but he was cheap.
When I opened the door to this place, I expected to find the bare minimum, if I was lucky, with a dash of neglect.
With a bit of wiggling and picking at the ice crusting the lock, threatening to leave me stuck on the tiny cement slab of a front porch step, I had the key in the lock and was turning it when the smell hit me.
Expecting mustiness, a stink akin to patchouli and a thick smothering of pepper hit me. “Ugh. Dad,” I garbled out, nose crinkling. Stepping inside, dumping my things where I stood, I found the light switch, pausing to mumble, “Aziz, light,” to flip it on. The lights came on, those mock daylight bright bulbs the old man had favored illuminating the room. “I stand corrected.” Muttering under my breath as posh meets pothead with a bachelor pad flair I didn’t care for greeted me, I scooted my bags out of the way and reached behind me absently, searching out the doorknob.
Shutting the door behind me, I began the task of peeling wet layers. The chill in the air was uncomfortable but nothing compared to the howling winds gusting that freezing crap around outside. Peeling my gloves off, shaking my head, I pulled out my phone. A quick look around as I got the small electric heater going had me wanting to sanitize the place. Opting to stand in the middle of the room, I shook my head as I scrolled through my contacts list.
Clicking on that familiar number, I pressed talk and waited. He answered on the first ring. Considering the contents of his… love nest? Party den? This certainly was not your granddaddy’s weekend fishing hole, I wasn’t surprised in the least.
“You’re having your eldest child chill at your hoochie hut,” I said flatly, “instead of telling your wife to drink some man-up water and accept you had a life before her, and your horrid first life children are all part of that deal. Whether anyone liked it or not.”
“Hoochie hut?” Dad burst out.
“Love den? Sexual sanctuary? Pit of promiscuity? Seriously, am I going to find things I shouldn’t if I have a peek around?” I quipped quickly to add fuel to the fire, because I was annoyed, on top of everything else, to be shunted off to his den of iniquity like one of