Free The Reluctant Elf (Kindle Single) by Michele Gorman

of our family.’
    He watches me from beneath his mop of hair. ‘You say that, but can anyone you’re paying really be part of the family? I don’t mean to say that you don’t love her, but at the end of the day she is your employee. If something went wrong you could fire her. You can’t do that with family. You’re stuck with them through thick and thin, whether or not you want to be.’
    ‘I’m sure it started out as a financial arrangement with my parents but she’s been with us since I was small, so she is part of my family.’
    ‘Even though you pay her to cook and clean for you so you don’t have to do it.’
    I don’t like his tone one bit. ‘I’m not some spoilt silly rich woman you know. If you must know, we actually have very little extra money. Celine lives rent-free and we pay her a stipend.’
    But that doesn’t make it sound any better. What I mean is that, because she’s part of the family, we all take care of each other.
    Why am I being so defensive anyway? It doesn’t matter what Danny thinks of us.
    ‘You can go home now,’ I say, pushing the discomfort from my mind. ‘Can you be back by eight for breakfast?’
    ‘You’re the boss.’
    ‘I didn’t mean—’
    ‘Good night, Lottie.’
    He crosses the room in just a few seconds until he’s towering over me.
    ‘Happy Christmas.’ He leans down and kisses my cheek, and I feel the warmth of his lips long after he’s left for home.
     

Chapter Ten
     
    Sleep doesn’t come easily and it’s not because I’m waiting for Father Christmas. I’ve got visions of Danny dancing in my head. Something about his vulnerability when he talks about his daughter tugs at my heart in a way it hasn’t been tugged in years. So it’s a shame that he thinks I’m a self-centred Londoner who exploits my “help”.
    And even if it has started to seem like we’re just two friends together in this charade, the fact remains that he’s drawing a salary to be here.
    It’s just past six a.m. when I finally admit defeat. Sleeplessness has won. Mabel stirs when I crawl out from under the duvet. I freeze. There’s no way she’ll go back to sleep this morning, not with a stocking full of presents waiting for her at the foot of our bed.
    But she swallows in her sleep and turns over with a sigh. I don’t risk kissing her.
    ‘I love you, Mabel,’ I whisper instead.
    When I see the black shoes in the hallway, I have to laugh. Rupert has taken me up on my offer to polish them. But my smile turns to a frown as I bend to pick them up.
    Oh no. Please say he hasn’t. Tentatively I give them a sniff.
    He has.
    Mingus has weed in Rupert’s lace-ups.
    That damn cat!
    How does one clean cat wee out of leather shoes? Even Martha Stewart would struggle with that one.
    Rupert won’t appreciate wet shoes so I can’t wash them. But I’ve got to get the smell out somehow.
    I rush to the basement looking for anything that might help. Bleach? No, can’t get them wet. Soap powder could help soak up the wee, at least. But would that leave a white residue? Then he’d think I’d been doing lines on his insoles. And if his feet became sweaty he might end up with bubbles in his shoes.
    My gaze falls upon a bottle of Febreeze on the shelf above the washer. Ah, the miracle spray, saviour of many a morning-after-curry W.C. and student who hasn’t got around to washing his clothes.
    Blotting a cloth inside each shoe first, I soak up as much of Mingus as possible before giving each one a blast.
    It seems to be working, although Rupert’s shoes now smell of Febreeze.
    I take them into the kitchen and give them the polish he wanted in the first place.
    Now they smell of shoe polish and air freshener. He’s definitely going to be suspicious of that, but it’s better than the alternative.
    Mingus rubs against my leg, purring like he hasn’t just urinated in our guest’s brogues.
    ‘Bad cat!’
    He looks perfectly innocent.
    ‘Oh I suppose now you think I ought to feed you?