Advent Calendar – Day 14 – An Unwrapping Mr. Darcy excerpt!

Welcome to day 14 of our Advent Calendar! Today, is a bit of nonsense, a short excerpt from Unwrapping Mr. Darcy.

The door closed, and Elizabeth pivoted to face the darkened street. The Rolls Royce still sat along the curb—exactly where she’d left it. Why did she promise Charlotte? She didn’t want to sit in Mr. Darcy’s car, or sip his wine, or . . . who knows!

Elizabeth took her time on the steps, but as she approached the back of the car, Mr. Carson jumped out and opened the door. “I hope you had a good evening, miss.”

She forced a smile, a part of her fighting the urge to snap at him. He had no control over his employer, so she shouldn’t take out her frustrations on him. “Yes, thank you.”

She slid into the plush interior and buckled herself, turning down the glass of wine the driver offered when he resumed his place behind the wheel. Her eyes burned and a slight ache behind them threatened to become a full-fledged pounding in her skull. She just needed to hold it together until she reached home! Once the door of her apartment shut behind her, she could cry to her heart’s content.

The man made no sense whatsoever. He was in love with her? Charlotte claimed to have seen it all along, so why hadn’t she? Was she so blind? Or had her perception flown out of the window? How could she have gotten it so wrong?

It wasn’t just being blindsided, though. Why did her body react in such a crazy way around him? She had to work to concentrate in his presence and he rarely touched her, but when he did, it was strange. No one had ever caused the shivers and goosebumps he did.

Her head fell to the back of the car seat. It was almost as if she didn’t know herself. She’d never reacted that way to anyone, and the remembrance made the muscles tighten in her shoulders, squeezing through her neck to her head. Oh, there was the mind-numbing pounding.

She closed her eyes and began to envision this fantasy of telling Darcy where he could shove his Advent calendar. The ruder and more drawn out her diatribe, the more cathartic it all became—until he kissed her. She shot up like a light. What was that?

“We’re here, miss.”

After scanning the backseat, she unbuckled as Mr. Carson opened the door. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

She peeked over her shoulder when she walked into the building. The man hadn’t driven away yet but stood by his door while he watched her go inside. Normally, she took the stairs, but she got into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor. As the doors closed, Mr. Carson climbed into the car.

Her feet dragged when she left the elevator, and when she reached her apartment, the key stuck in the lock a little. It figures. Nothing was going to go right for her tonight. When she finally managed to open the door, Grunt’s furry little face poked around from the hall table to greet her.

She dropped her clutch and picked up Grunt, cuddling him to her chest. “Hello, sweet boy. I’m so glad to see you.” Two steps more and she came to an abrupt stop when she looked up at the living room.

“Grunt!” He spooked and jumped from her arms onto the back of the sofa. “Really! You had to do this tonight?”

Her tree. Her beautiful Christmas tree lay across the coffee table. Baubles hung precariously from its branches and a few appeared to have rolled or were batted away since they now resided in various corners of the room.

She peeled off her coat and tossed it across the chair so she could try to stand the tree back up. All she needed was the wood floor to be water damaged. Afraid that the tree sap would be everywhere, she removed her jewelry from her wrists and her hands and placed the pieces on the kitchen island before sticking her arm inside the prickly branches. When she hauled it upright, the tree still stood straight, but ornaments and shards of colored glass littered the floor, and a good-sized puddle soaked part of her area rug. At least the broken ornaments looked like the cheap ones she’d bought rather than the heirlooms her grandmother had given her.

She dug two towels out of the hamper and threw them down to soak up part of the mess then she went to her room, changed from her dress into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top, and gathered more of her old towels from the bathroom.

A rattle came from the living room and she growled. “Grunt!” The little twerp found a tiny glass bauble and was chasing and batting it across the wood floor when she returned. Without warning, she scooped him up and tossed him into her bedroom. She then continued drying the rest of the water.

In the end, it took her almost ten minutes to wipe it all up, including getting under the tree stand and propping part of the area rug so it would dry without marring the wood. Another fifteen was spent sweeping and vacuuming the broken glass, and another five re-hanging the ornaments that had survived.

When she finally shoved her vacuum back in the laundry room, she let Grunt out of his prison. He’d scratched at the door and meowed for the last five minutes, and the sledgehammer now pulverizing her cranium couldn’t take the sound another second.

After she kicked off her shoes, she padded barefoot to the kitchen, pulled down one of her cheap, old wine glasses, and felt around the back of a bottom cabinet for that bottle of merlot she was certain was hiding back there. After several blind passes, her hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle, and she pulled it out, pouring a hefty glass the moment it was uncorked.

The oaky vintage rolled over her tongue on her first gulp. This wasn’t a nice leisurely glass. This was stress relief, pure and simple. Before she reached the couch, she turned back to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle and took it with her. “Always be prepared” sounded like a pretty good motto all of a sudden.

Something sharp and painful made her hiss and draw up her foot. She sat on the sofa and set the wine on the coffee table so she could take a look. Was it a good idea to be padding around without shoes after the mess she just cleaned up? No, of course not, and now, she was paying the price. A tiny shard of green tinted glass peeked out from the pad of her foot.

The small wound didn’t bleed much and didn’t require a Band-Aid, so she hobbled to the kitchen and washed the sliver down the sink before she returned to her comfy spot on the sofa. She’d turned the Christmas lights on while she redecorated, so she drank her wine and dimmed the overhead lights so the only illumination came from the tree.

What a night!

What was she going to do about Mr. Darcy? She drank down the remainder of her first glass and refilled it. At least she didn’t have to think about it right now.

She pulled a comfy blanket from the drawer in the coffee table and covered her legs. She loved Christmas! She loved Christmas trees! What kind of tree did Mr. Darcy have?

Gah! Stop that! She drank down the rest of her second glass.

Grunt hopped up and stretched himself across her lap and began to purr. She couldn’t help but scratch behind his ears while he tilted his head so she hit all the right places.

“You’re such trouble. And you know you’re too cute for me to stay angry for long.”

She continued to pet him while she sipped her wine. Her head started to lighten and her vision became a bit hazy. She blinked a few times. The pounding in her brain was starting to subside, but thoughts kept whirring and whirring around in there. Why couldn’t humans have a switch so they could turn that shit off?

It didn’t take long before she stared at the bottom of her wine glass. Crap! How did she drink it all so fast? She set it on the table and watched the lights twinkling while Grunt’s little motor slowly faded. He was falling asleep.

She rested her head against the back corner of the sofa. What was Mr. Darcy doing? Was he upset about what happened, or had he gone to bed like nothing was wrong? What did the man wear to bed? She’d seen him in jeans that day, but usually, he wore a suit. Maybe he wore a pajama suit to bed? She giggled and pulled the blanket a little higher before everything faded away.