Christmas With You by Tracey Alvarez

eagle-eyed stare. “There you are. Thought you must’ve missed the ferry.” Her gaze flicked over Carly’s shoulder. “And a handsome escort to accompany you home, I see.”
    “Mrs. T. You’re looking radiant this evening.”
    Betsy blew a loud raspberry. “Such charm to go with those good looks.” Her landlady, more infamous for flirting than even Kip, poked one of her walking sticks against the door to open it wider. “After meeting your dear parents the other day, I can understand where you get both those admirable traits from.”
    She narrowed her eyes at Carly. “He’s staying for supper?”
    Other women Carly’s age would resent someone monitoring their movements, but the elderly widow had a heart as big as the Pacific and genuinely cared about her. “That’s right, Betsy. Then I’m going to help him wrap his gifts for his family. You know what men and gift-wrapping are like.”
    “My husband couldn’t have even coped with those pretty gift-bags everyone uses nowadays.” Betsy raised a walking stick and stabbed it in Kip’s direction with a stern frown. “I may be old, but I still remember what Oliver was like at your age. One-track mind—sex, sex, sex.” A shark-ish grin appeared on her wrinkled face. “Carly, you lucky girl.”
    A masculine chuckle sounded from behind her. Heat flashed down the length of her body, as if he’d reached out and grabbed her ass. And not the type of ass-grabbing from a stranger on a public bus, whom she’d want to punch, but the kind of ass-grabbing that led to hot, sweaty sex.
    Before she could think of a witty reply, Betsy made shooing motions. “Off you go, then; the news is on. When you get to my age, you have to have the TV cranked up to hear anything—so make as much noise as you like.” She winked at them and closed the door.
    “She’s as subtle as a brick upside the head,” Kip said.
    Carly attempted to untangle her tongue as they followed the path down the side of the house, to the little one-bedroomed cottage she rented. She opened the door and led the way into her small open-plan living room/kitchen. She dumped her bags on the couch, shivers running up and down her spine. Being alone with Kip in her house was like inviting a tiger in for a bite to eat, not knowing whether she’d end up as the main course. What had she been thinking?
    “You realize my reputation is ruined?” She slipped her purse off her shoulder and tossed it onto the dining table. “Betsy will be on the phone to her church ladies as we speak.”
    Kip placed his boxes and bags next to hers. “Gift-wrapping, the lesser-known but more scandalous activity two un-chaperoned adults can take part in.”
    “Smartass.” Carly flopped onto an armchair and kicked off her flip-flops, while Kip continued to scan her living room.
    He’d never been inside her little place before; when he’d picked her up to go to breakfast with his family, he’d met her at the front gate.
    “Nice place,” Kip said, walking over to the French doors that opened out on a private bricked courtyard lined with pots of lavender. “How come you haven’t put those up yet?” He tilted his head at a large cardboard box, the words Christmas Decorations scrawled on the side, which she’d shoved in a corner of the living room.
    Betsy had insisted Carly bring the decorations here at the beginning of December, steamrolling Carly’s quiet protests that she wasn’t in the mood. In the end, it’d been easier just to take the damn box, since Betsy couldn’t easily navigate the stairs down to the cottage to check whether her tenant had used the decorations.
    “I haven’t even opened it.” Carly rolled her shoulders and pinned on a fake smile. “I’ll get around to it later.”
    Kip turned away from the doors and braced his hands on the back of the couch. “And a tree?”
    “Trees are just for the kids, don’t you think?” Though, every year, her dad had insisted on a fresh, six-foot-at-the-smallest