Not one of the Weathers girls thinks it feels like Christmas. This is the first Christmas without their beloved Gram whose death they are processing. A change in plans, work, and the wacky, wild, winter weather separates them this year. With Skye in Scotland, Storme in Michigan, and Sunny in Tennessee, it didn’t look likely that they would even be together, let alone, home for Christmas. Not even the magic of Christmas can make that happen. For that, they need a Christmas miracle.
Is that miracle in the hands of a stranger named Gabriel? Are a man called Luke and another named Craig, not to mention Jesse—someone for whom Sunny admits she may have more than the hots —part of the miracle? Can these men help the sisters find some peace on Earth and feel goodwill in their childhood home at their lodge in the Smoky Mountains, or will it be a blue Christmas?
Not beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Scotland
Skye Weathers Scraper was in Scotland working her dream job as Project Manager on Ronald Rump’s new comedy club, The Rumpus Room, at The Rump Roost Tower and Golf Course. Thanksgiving had come and gone, and Christmas was fast approaching. She was still a bride and missed her new husband, Luke, her sisters, and the hills of the Great Smoky Mountains. Funny how the holidays never bothered me the past ten years. I was fine being away from the drama, but with Gram’s death…it matters now. What’s happening to me?
Although she felt at home in Scotland, the Scottish mountains seemed more jagged, saw-toothed, and separate than the rolling green more rounded mountains of home. She was irritated with herself. After all, mountains are mountains. It must be missing Luke that was at the root of her discontent. And it was Christmas, after all. Her heart would have to be the white quartzite of these hills for her not to feel out of touch and lonely, even though there were green mountains here too. She even missed the twang of Tennessee—so different from the Scottish brogue. Oh, sure the languages were related but still.
Hating to admit it, she wanted to be home for Christmas. Lord have mercy, I sound pathetic. No, I sound homesick. Oh, to feel Luke in my arms right now, to kiss him, to be naked with his tight, hard butt and that juicy cock…better not go there. Her girlie parts were moist just thinking of him. If she kept this up, she’d be dripping wet. That memory led to their steamy encounters in Cove Lake and how he delighted her with one explosive climax after another. Skye longed for the soapy shower that lasted until the slick lather had them both begging for more—and getting it. The memories were hot even when the water ran cold.
If anyone had said that she would ever yearn and pine for a man, she would have laughed them off the planet. That was before Luke rocked her world and made her life heaven on Earth with his touch, his tongue, his rock hard…she had to stop this train of thought. Luke was thousands of miles away, and all the memories couldn’t change that fact. It was time to face facts. She was in Scotland, he was not. Truth be told it was more, much more than his body that she missed. She missed him. His voice. The calm his presence brought her. Missing his strength, steadiness, and dedication not only to her but to his work as a ranger for the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Reining her thoughts in, she shook her head in an effort to focus. It was Christmas, and she had festivities to plan and supervise.
Skye was too busy getting things done according to Rump’s wishes. There were so many times when she questioned how he did business. The job was not as thrilling as she had hoped. Rump was doing a lot to Americanize Christmas by adding glittery trees, lights, and wreaths. Even though Christmas music was piped in and she was listening to familiar lyrics of Christmas being merry and bright, she wasn’t feeling it. When I’ll Be Home for Christmas played, she very nearly lost it.
Shutting down her laptop, Skye left her office and went for a walk in the cold. She saw Annika, Ronald’s daughter, approaching with a sneer on her face as if asking: What are you still doing here? I’m in charge. Lately, more and more often, Skye’s work was glossed over in favor of Annika’s take on things. Skye was getting tired of it and sighed.
Once again, nausea washed over her. How she longed for Gram’s comforting words and maybe even some good old fashioned southern comfort. This would be the first Christmas since Gram’s death and instead of getting better, her grief only deepened. Home for Christmas…yeah, in my dreams.
The ordeal of opening the Rump’s Roast at the Rumpus Room, while successful as far as the guests were concerned, did not go over well with The Ronald. The event was planned around a lavish Great Gatsby theme. Women were dressed in beaded flapper gowns, and feathered headbands while the men sported two-toned shoes and wide collared pinstripe suits. The guests entered the festivities by sliding down a carefully constructed spiraling slide to the banquet ballroom located below. Skye and the staff tried it several times and landed smoothly on their feet, even when holding a cocktail. Their host, Ronald, was the last to join the festivities. The spotlight and cameras were on him when he landed squarely on his rump! He was not amused when the photos hit the news. He held Skye responsible. Making matters worse, his thin-skinned pride was wounded when fun was poked at him. There was a Roast the Host segment, and even though he selected the Toastmaster himself and reviewed the one liners, Ronald couldn’t stand that others laughed when the punchlines played out. Everyone knew it was all in good fun and good-natured teasing—everyone except for The Ronald himself!
Annika stopped directly in front of Skye and spouted. “Kiss your dream job good bye. You’re fired.”
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