I shrug and say, "Well, now I have some help with decorating the tree, I guess."
Watching the beautiful woman giggle, I feel my stomach flip.
"I would love to help you decorate the tree. I love Christmastime."
"Perfect. We can do that after breakfast."
Placing her mug on the table, my houseguest fixes me with her eyes.
"I think we should start over, don't you?"
"I would love to," I say, reaching out my hand.
When Alana takes it, the electric thrill from her touch engulfs my entire body, and I fight the urge to pull her to me and capture her mouth with mine.
"Nice to meet you. I am Lorne Morrison," I quip.
She laughs, her porcelain skin blushing.
"Alana Fairchild, it's a pleasure to meet you as well."
With Frank Sinatra crooning Christmas songs in the background, we string the holiday lights and then hang up my ornaments.
"These are really unique," Alana says, studying them.
"I am quite the loner mountain man type of guy, but I have traveled. And whenever I do, I always pick up a couple of ornaments where I am."
Once the tree is decorated and glittering with lights, we settle in front of the roaring fire to read. At one point, Alana looks up and asks, "Do you still have Wi-Fi right now?"
"Yeah. I don't think I've lost service," I say.
"Do you mind if I log in to social media and post about where I am and that my phone service is out?"
"Oh, yeah. Good idea," I say, grabbing my laptop and handing it to her.
She settles back with her book after posting, and I find myself stealing glances at her. The firelight flickers across her pale cheeks as she reads.
Damn, this woman is a curvy knockout.
After a second night sharing a bed with the voluptuous beauty, my body is reeling from another cold shower. We've grown more comfortable with each other in my tiny cabin. Alana has already started planning what we could make for Christmas dinner with the groceries I have on hand.
"Oh, yay, you have cornbread mix," she says, staring into the pantry.
We spend the evening before Christmas Eve doing our new routine - relaxing by the fire with our books. When Alana finishes hers, she places it on the coffee table and stands up to stretch. She walks over to my shelf of DVDs and gasps, pulling out a couple of movies.
"You haveDie HardandGremlins!" she says with obvious excitement in her voice, making me laugh.
"I do haveDie HardandGremlins."
"We should totally do a movie night," the curvy billionaire says, bouncing on her feet.
"Sure, let's do it. I have some microwave popcorn too."
As the popcorn pops in the microwave, I glance out the window, saying, "Looks like the snow finally stopped."
"Good," Alana says as we sit together on the couch to watchDie Hard.
By the end of the night, the two of us have killed a couple of bottles of wine and are giggling our butts off atGremlins.
