Grumble Monkey and the Department Store Elf Read Free Page A

always take our laundry home to mom?”
    I wouldn’t have , thought Nick. His mother would have given him quiet hell for something like that, despite the fact that Charlotte—their maid—would happily have done it for him. Charlotte would have done anything for him. She’d certainly been more of a mother than his own had ever been.
    “You have a great heater in this thing,” Kit said enthusiastically and rubbed his hands together in front of the vent. “What kinda car is this?”
    “Bentley Flying Spur,” Nick said. “What did you think it was?”
    Kit shrugged. “I didn’t know. That’s why I asked.”
    “You couldn’t tell it was a Bentley by looking at it?” Certainly, the kid knew what a Bentley looked like. Half the reason Nick drove one was because people always knew what a Bentley looked like! Look like money, and you make money. The Law of Attraction and all that shit.
    Kit rolled his eyes. “I know cars have five wheels. Four are rubber and the last one is the thing you steer with. I don’t know a Bentley from… ah….”
    “A Tracker?” Nick offered.
    Kit giggled again. “Well, heck. I know that much!” He rubbed his arms hard. Shivered.
    Hell. He needs to change his clothes. We can’t leave yet. I’m never going to get to San Francisco .
    Nick sighed inwardly and drove his car back to the brick building.
    “What are we doing?”
    “You need to change. You’re going to catch pneumonia.”
    “But you’re in a hurry. Your heater will dry me off.”
    “ Change . It’s not like we’re going to get anywhere in a hurry in this stuff!”
    “My mom says you can’t catch a cold that way anyways—”
    “Bull!” Nick parked the car. “Get something to wear out of that trash bag of yours.” It was a command, using his most “boss” tone of voice. The one that said “Do not argue with me!” Nick pointed at the building and snapped, “Get your ass in there and get changed. Now.”
    “Yes, sir!” Kit saluted, jumped from the car, and, taking his duffle bag with him, disappeared into the building. Apparently, he had something clean. He was fast too. Kit was in and out before Nick had time to get impatient. And that was saying something.
    Nick elected not to comment. He simply started the car back up—having already thrown his wet coat in the back and grabbed the Irish wool sweater he had ready for just such a possibility—and slowly and carefully headed back to the on-ramp. What color jeans was Kit wearing? Maroon? Hell.
    Just as he reached the highway, a semi roared past as if it were a summer day, throwing slush all over the car. He cursed the man. Serve you right if you jackknife that thing.
    “Holy cow!” cried Kit. “Did you see that?”
    Holy cow? Really? Holy cow?
    It was with that thought that Nick steeled himself for two hours of chitchat with Kit the elf-kitten. He pulled onto the highway, safely, while Michael Bublé sang “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow….” Nick spared a finger from the wheel to stab at a button on the radio and change the station. This time it was Lady Gaga singing about how she lived for the applause. Hell! Why not?
    And it was only then it occurred to Nick to wonder what kind of “two hours” Kit meant. Did he mean two-hours-in-this-weather two hours? Or a regular two-hours-on-a-nice-day two hours? Which meant it could be a hell of a lot more than that. Four, at least.
    What the “heck” had he let himself in for?
     
     
    T HE GUY was kind of cute, thought Kit. Dark-brown hair with just the tiniest hint of gray, big brown eyes with thick brows, a nice masculine square jaw, a shadow of a beard, probably about forty— woof! And if Kit’s gaydar was working as well as it usually did, he was pretty sure they both played for the same team. It was too bad he was such a grumble monkey.
    Kit looked around at the interior of the car. It was gorgeous. There were about a billion buttons and panels, and the seats looked like they were made of