That was not a young lady helping out. That was a drop dead gorgeous grown woman who basically glowed. Big blond hair. Big boobs. They couldn’t be real, could they? She was tall and stacked and tanned. She was also one of those women who wore a lot of makeup, but it actually all worked on her. She didn’t look overdone, she looked like perfection.
She had to be someone famous. Oh shit, was this someone who maybe followed Matt? Some star actress or supermodel who was chasing him down? My brother had a thing for actresses and models.
Cautiously, I approached the front desk.
“Hi,” I said.
Why would a supermodel chasing after Matt be behind the front desk?
“Oh, hi. Welcome to the Kringle Inn. Do you have a reservation?”
“I’m Kristen Kringle,” I announced.
“Oh, well then, you’re probably related to the owner.”
“Something like that. And you are?”
“I’m Lexie Platzski. Ethan’s wife. Well…” She laughed. “Ethan’s wife for right now. I came here to get a divorce, but apparently you guys are in a bind and needed my help. So here I am. Helping.”
Here she definitely was. It took a few seconds, maybe because I was still a little loopy from all the sex last night, for me to catch up.
“I’m sorry, so you’re not a supermodel here to see Matt?”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. Not a supermodel. Vegas showgirl, actually.”
A bark sounded from behind the counter.
“What is that?” I asked.
Lexie bent down and picked up a tiny dog. It was one of those dogs people carried around in purses and backpacks like a toy, only it was a dog.
“Not a what. A who. This is Baby Girl.” Lexie petted the dog and then dropped several loud kisses on top of the dog’s fluffy head. “Aren’t you, my baby girl? Yes you are.”
The dog barked at me.
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be real. A Vegas showgirl and her dog, Baby Girl, were working the front desk of the Kringle Inn?
Ethan’s wife?
“I need coffee. I need, like, serious amounts of coffee, right now.”
“I just put on a pot in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
She was smiling, wearing this incredibly sexy red sweater that kept falling off her shoulder. Was she wearing a bra under that? And the dog was nuzzling something in her mane of blond hair. I think it was holly.
At least it was Christmas themed.
“You’re Lexie,” I repeated, like I was slow on the uptake. “And you’re a Vegas showgirl and you married my brother Ethan. Ethan Kringle. Ethan going-to-be-mayor-of-Salt-Springs Kringle.”
“I know, right? Can you believe it? Crazy times.”
I walked away, not knowing what to think, and headed to my office. This wasn’t happening.
Ethan was married? To a stripper from Vegas. Or showgirl, whatever. How did that happen? How did he not tell anyone?
Things I could not deal with right now. Instead, I just went into my office, opened up my laptop with all my spreadsheets, and got down to the business of saving the inn.
* * *
