How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

Peppermint candies, huckleberry truffles, and chocolate-covered chips.

Boy oh boy, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, they would lock lips.

But poor Snow Daddy came up short, sent on his way without a kiss.

Some might say he struck out, fell short of love, a total and utter miss.

“You know, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Narrator: I’m just telling it like I see it.

“Yeah, well…there weren’t any chocolate-covered chips. Everyone can see right through you and your inability to be clever and find a rhyme for lips.”

Narrator: Watch yourself, Snow Daddy. I control this story, and if you want any shot at locking lips, then check the attitude.

“Who says I even want another kiss?”

Narrator: Oh, Cole, all the readers and listeners can smell the desperation. Cute that you think otherwise. Now on with the story…

Sitting on my porch, the starry night sky above me, I drape a blanket over my lap as I breathe in the wintry night air. Fuck, that conversation did not go the way I wanted it to, but what was I even expecting the outcome to be?

That she wanted to set everything aside and go on another date?

That she wanted to tell everyone that we solved our differences and that we were friends, that maybe there was more to our relationship than some friendly smiles and touches?

Nitwit.

That’s what I am. An absolute nitwit.

She’s always been better, brighter, bigger than me.

That’s how it will always be.

Stupid of me to think otherwise.

My phone buzzes in my hand and I see that it’s a text from Max.

Max: How did it go? Going to fill me in? Taran was surprised that I delivered her car. I need all the details. Wait…is Storee still alive, or did you kill her?

Rolling my eyes, I text my idiot of a best friend back.

Cole: It was fine. We made candy canes, and we drove back together. She went to her house, I went to mine.

He texts back immediately.

Max: Okay, why did you mention which way you two went when you returned? Were you hoping she’d come back to your place?

Cole: No.

Max: I can smell you lying from here. If we can’t be honest with each other, then who can we really be honest with?

Cole: Jesus, you’re annoying.

Max: No, I’m your best friend, and given our conversations since Storee has arrived, I would have assumed you’d have messaged me by now, letting me know what kind of wench she was. But I didn’t get the wench text, which means something happened, so spill.

This is why you shouldn’t have best friends, because they know too much about you.

Cole: Fine, we talked. I told her about my parents, she apologized, kind of aired everything out, and then we made candy canes together and I liked every second of it. Every goddamn second.

Max: Whoa, okay, was not expecting that. Um, so if I were to say the crush is in full force, would I be right?

Cole: You would be very right, but it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t feel the same way. We’re just friends, so we’re going to keep it like that, plus she lives in California and she has a whole other life there. It would be stupid to get attached.

Max: I can feel how sad you are through your text messages. Did you tell her how you feel?

Cole: No, because I don’t really know how I feel. I mean, today was a one-eighty. I was driving to Clayton intending to show her up, but then when I found her on the side of the road, that all changed. And all those old feelings came back. Now, fuck, now I don’t know what I’m doing.

I stare down at my phone as I hear a crunch in the snow. I glance to the left where I catch Storee walking toward me, thermos in hand. I set my phone down to the side. “What are you doing? You’re going to freeze.”

“You have a blanket. I’ll be fine.” She crosses over into my yard, and then walks up the porch steps and takes a seat next to me. “I brought hot cocoa.” She hands me the thermos, and I uncap the top and pour us a cup to share while she takes some of my blanket and drapes it over her legs.

“Why are you out here?” I ask her.

“Because I saw you and figured I’d join you. Taran’s talking to her boyfriend and doing God knows what in her room while Aunt Cindy is asleep. And, well…I thought things were weird when we left the truck, and I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It’s not weird.”

“Yes, it is,” she says. She takes the cup from me and sips the hot liquid before offering it to me. “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know how to act around you because you make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” I ask, pointing to my chest. “How the hell does that work?”Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

She chuckles. “You just do. You always have.”

“You’re going to have to explain yourself, because if anything, you make me nervous.”

“Oh please, Cole. You know that’s not true.”

“It is. Sure, maybe when we were under the age of ten, you were just the girl who came to visit Cindy during Christmastime, but when puberty hit, that changed things. You were the pretty girl I wanted to talk to—who happened to visit Cindy.”

She tilts her head to the side, those hypnotizing eyes nearly cutting me in half. She has the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. Wide eyes, long lashes, freckles that span her nose and cheeks, which she covers up when she’s wearing makeup. High cheekbones, full lips, and a slender nose decorated with the smallest of nose rings that, if you weren’t looking hard enough, you might miss.

“And you were the handsome guy with the broad shoulders and even broader grin that lived next door to Aunt Cindy, the one I’d try to steal glances at whenever I was in town. And on the best of occasions, you were the one who helped me escape from the insanity of my parents during the holidays by just sitting on this very porch and talking about nothing important.”

She hands me the cup and I take another sip. “You were the girl from California who was way out of my league, who is still out of my league,” I say, not caring that I’m putting it all out there.

“You were the boy who set the standard, a standard no one else has yet to match.”

I glance down at the hot cocoa, not sure where to go from here.

“So, yes, I get nervous around you,” she says as her hand lands on my arm. “Why do you think I was rambling on in the Kringle Krampus? I saw you, got nervous, and then I couldn’t shut up from there.”

I chuckle. “You were extremely talkative.”

“And you hated every second of it.”

“For other reasons,” I say.

“For how I left here,” she says, understanding the circumstances.

“Yeah.” I blow out a heavy breath. “Thinking about it now, I kind of wish I’d asked Cindy for your information so I could have at least contacted you. Maybe seen if you wanted to be pen pals again or something like that.”

“Pen pals,” I say. “That would have been really cute in our early twenties. I probably would have been better too.”

I turn toward her. “Would you have written me back?”

“Yes,” she answers, turning toward me as well so our knees knock. “It probably would have made me feel more connected to something.”

“But you were done with the town. Wouldn’t you have been done with me too?”

She shakes her head. “You were the one thing I would think about every time Christmas rolled around.” I hand her the hot cocoa, but she sets it to the side before taking my hand and turning it up so my palm is exposed. She glides her finger over my calluses. “Hard not to think about you now, Cole.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Even with the tension and anger?”

She looks up at me through her lashes. “Especially with the tension and anger because I wanted to know where it was coming from. I wanted to fix it. I wanted this.”

“I wanted this too,” I say.

She smiles lightly and then scoots into my side. I take that opportunity to wrap my arm around her and pull her in even closer. She leans against my chest as I rest my cheek against the top of her head.

“How are you doing now?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“With the loss of your parents. I know that’s something you will never get over, but how are you doing?”

“Probably not as well as I should be,” I answer honestly. “There’s so much I could be doing that I’m not. I’m settled into a routine. You being here is the first time I’ve broken that routine. Honestly, it’s been chaotic since you arrived.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“If you told me a few weeks ago that my cherished routine, the routine that has helped me accept the loss of my parents, would be flipped upside down, I’d probably panic, but now I’d say this chaos has been welcome.” I chuckle. “Fuck, if Max could hear this conversation, his jaw would probably be on the floor.”

She laughs as well. “Is he used to you being set in your ways?”

“Very much so. I think he’s still in shock that I entered the Kringle competition.”

“And all out of spite,” she says.

“Is there really any other way?”

“When you act like a Grinch…no.”

“A Grinch, huh? You really think I’m a green crotch that tries to steal Christmas?”

“A green crotch?” She laughs out loud. “Jesus, I hope you’re not a green crotch.”

I chuckle. “That’s a term my mom used to use all the time when describing someone ornery.”

“Sheesh, an ornery crotch. Seems like that crotch isn’t getting enough proper attention.”

“Isn’t that what makes people ornery in the first place?”

“I don’t know—you tell me,” she says.

I smile against her hair. “Are you asking if my crotch has been getting proper attention?”

“First of all, can we stop saying the word crotch? It’s easily the most unattractive word ever created. Secondly…maybe?”

I laugh. “Interested in my sex life? Here I thought we were just innocently sitting together on the porch.”

“This is the adult version of us sitting on the porch. We talk about adult things now. So go ahead, answer the question.”

I sigh. “Well, let’s just say it’s been a while.”

“How long?”

“This isn’t a very Christmassy conversation,” I reply.

“Yes, it is. The holiday season is all about bringing joy, and joy can be found everywhere. It can be found while hanging ornaments on a tree, sipping a cup of peppermint mocha while watching ice skating, or getting naked with another person and having them play around with your…candy cane.”

“Jesus.” I snort, my chest vibrating with humor. “These conversations really have matured.”

“Yup, now answer the question.”

I rub my eye with the palm of my hand. “I don’t know, a few months, maybe more than that. Like I said, it’s been a while.”

“Who was she? The only reason I ask is because you said you have a very scheduled life, so when would you have time to meet someone? Meaning, is this person still in your life?”

“Definitely not,” I say. “I think it was actually Max’s birthday. We got drunk—”

She lifts up and stares at me. “Was it Atlas?”

“No,” I say with force, which causes her to laugh. “He rejected me,” I add with a smile, making her laugh even harder as she settles back against my chest.

“So you had to go to the second option.”

“Unfortunately, which meant it was an out-of-towner, one-night-stand thing. I went back to her hotel room and, well, yeah.”

“Interesting,” she says.

“Okay, now you have to tell me your last time.”

“Uh, no, thank you. I’m a lady. I don’t share details like that.”

“Oh fuck that,” I say, as her laughter rings through the silent night. “I didn’t just open up to have you shut down on me. Now tell me, who was the last person you fucked…and when?”

Storee

Gird your loins, ladies, because the way Cole says fucked is the most gratifying sound ever.

It sends a thrill through me like…like…

Like warm cider on a cold day.

Like a freshly iced cookie melting in my mouth.

Like seeing that bitch Samantha fall flat on her doll face because I shut the door too hard.

I find it so appealing.

So attractive.

So freaking alluring that I lean in closer.

Seeking out his warmth.

Wanting desperately for him to tilt my chin up and press his lips to mine.

“I’m waiting,” he says. Cute.

I pick at a piece of lint on the blanket. “Well, if you must know, it’s been a while for me too.”

“You really think you’re going to get away with that answer? Try again.”

“Fine, you asked for it.” I clear my throat. “It has been fourteen months and thirteen days.”

I feel him go still underneath me, and I can’t hold back my smile as he pulls away to look me in the eyes. “Are you being for real? You know it down to the very day?”

I laugh. “No, but your look of concern is cute. Let’s just say it’s been over a year. It was with this guy I knew in college. He was in town and, well, we got a little handsy and continued the handsy-ness in his car.”

“You did it in a car?” he asks, sounding shocked. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“Have you never done it in a car, Cole?”

“No,” he says matter-of-factly. “I can barely fit in a regular car, let alone fuck someone in it.”

Oof, the use of fuck again.

That one made my nipples hard.

“Well, it did cause some fumbling, some bumping, and it wasn’t at the greatest angle, which meant I really had to aid in his pursuit of the big O. But we got the job done, shook hands, and went our separate ways.”

“Did you really shake hands?” he asks.

“Metaphorically. He’s more of a high five kind of guy, but I feel like a high five after sex degrades the act of copulating.”

“There you go with copulating again.”

“Do you prefer fornication?”

“I prefer fuck,” he says, making me smile.

I made him say it that time.

“Well, either way, it’s been a while for me and that’s okay. I think the next time I let someone pull my leggings down, I want it to be someone blond…”

I bite on my lip, waiting for his response.

Preferably a growly, possessive response.

“Yeah, I agree,” he says to my surprise. “I want my next fuck to be a blond as well.”

My mouth falls open as I push up to look him in the eyes. His expression is full of mirth as he stares back.

“Or maybe a redhead.” He winks.

“Well, good luck finding a willing redhead. I’ve heard they can be very picky.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I know one who is so picky, she only likes to fuck in cars.”

“Sounds like she’s real bendy.”

Cole clears his throat, his grip on me growing more intense. They’re subtle reactions, but I love them.

Wanting to keep the convo going, I say, “Have you ever done it in front of a Christmas tree?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t have a Christmas tree to do it in front of.”

“Wait.” I sit up and push away from him so I can really look him in the eyes. “You don’t have a Christmas tree?”

He shakes his head. “No, what’s the point?”

“Umm…well, for the obvious reason that you can fuck someone in front of it, but also, you know, because it’s Christmas.”

“There’s no one in my life who’s important enough to fuck in front of a Christmas tree, and I haven’t had one since my parents died. I guess I just didn’t feel like putting one up. Or any decorations for that matter.”

“Wait, so if I went inside your house right now, there wouldn’t be one Christmas decoration? Not one bauble? Not one wreath?”

“Nothing,” he says.

“Cole, that…that’s not right.”

He casually shrugs. “It’s not like I have anyone to share the holiday with. Just seems pointless to me.”

“But it’s Christmas!”

“It’s also Christmas year-round here—I see all the decorations I need.”

“Still, it makes me sad. Walking into Aunt Cindy’s house was always my favorite part of the visit because she decked out the entire place for the holiday season. Every nook and cranny had something. The curtains, the rugs, the bathroom, the kitchen. Every inch of the house was covered, and it just made it feel so warm and cozy. Don’t you want that?”

“I never wanted anything to do with the holiday, I guess, until this year…” He swallows and then lets out a heavy breath. “Until you arrived.”

I roll my teeth over the corner of my lip.

Our eyes connect, and the electricity that’s been building between us bounces and sparks as he drags his fingers over my cheek.

I lean into his touch, my tongue peeking out to wet my lips.

Heat builds inside of me as he slips his hand to the nape of my neck, pulling me in just an inch closer. I press my hand to his chest and lean in, letting him know that I want this.

I want this so much.

I wanted it in the truck.

I wanted it when he was helping me pull the sugar on the hook.

And secretly, when he kissed me under the mistletoe, I wanted so much more.

But he’s hesitant, and I don’t know why. Is he second-guessing himself?

Is he second-guessing me?

Just one touch, like last time.

One taste.

Please, Cole…

He wets his lips, his eyes bounce down to my mouth and then back up to my eyes, and just when I think he’s going to pull away because he hasn’t made a move yet, he leans in an inch.

But still no connection, and it drives me nuts.

I can see it in his eyes that he wants this kiss just as much as I do.

I can feel it in his hold on my neck.

I could sense it in the truck before we parted ways, but something is holding him back, and I’ll be damned if I’ll sit back and miss out on another opportunity to feel his lips against mine.

So I sit up, mentally take a deep breath, and then straddle his lap, the blanket falling away. Immediately his hands fall to my waist as his eyes stare deeply into mine. His fingers dig into my skin, I catch the bob in his Adam’s apple as he swallows, and when he doesn’t shift away from me or ask me to get off him, I slide my hands up his neck to his cheeks and grip them both right before angling his head and pressing my lips to his.

And I swear on everything in me, the burst of electricity that pops between us when he kisses me back is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

It’s intoxicating.

I grip him tighter, angling my mouth down as a low growl flows through his throat, right before his hands slide up my back, bringing me in closer.

This kiss, this connection—it’s everything.

His mouth, his hold, his taste.

It’s perfect.

This is perfect.

Sitting under the green lights, the dark sky just blanketing us, the silence of the still night around us… It’s everything I could ever have asked for as he parts his lips, deepening our kiss. One of my hands slides into his hair while his tongue swipes across my bottom lip.

I groan and do the same to him, until our tongues meet, tangling, dancing, creating a heat between us. A friction. A connection so great that I never want this to end.

I wish I weren’t wearing a jacket.

I wish I weren’t covered in so many layers, because I want to feel his callused hands across my body. I want to feel the strength of his hold. I want—

He pulls away, catching his breath as his eyes meet mine.

Confused.

Turned on.

Greedy.

He runs his tongue over his lips before he says, “You taste fucking amazing.”

“Then why did you stop?” I ask as I attempt to go in for more.

“Because if I kiss you more, it might go in a different direction, especially with you being on my lap.”

I smirk. “Are you saying you’re getting very turned on…Snow Daddy?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, and if it were brighter out here, I know I’d be able to see that blush on his cheeks that he wears so well. “Let’s just say I might have to test out your bendiness in the truck.”

“I’m not opposed. There’s plenty of room for me to move around.”

“Well, I am. Opposed, that is.” He smoothes his hand over my cheek and down my neck. “You deserve more than a quick fuck in my truck, Storee. You deserve so much more.”

“If that’s the case, show me into your house.”

He winces. “Yeah, you don’t want to go in my house.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just not…it’s not ready for company.”

“Are you messy?” I ask.

“Something like that,” he says softly. “Plus, what if Taran comes looking for you? You should probably get back to your house.”

Okay, any other time I might find this incredibly insulting. I mean, I’m on the man’s lap, making out with him, more than willing to take this so much further, and he’s trying to send me on my way. But I know it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him and his readiness to explore something more.

I can respect that.

“You might be right about Taran. She would have a coronary if she saw us kissing on your porch. That, and I think I’m having a tough time feeling my toes.”

“It’s not that cold,” he says with a laugh, which I’m glad to hear because even though he’s shutting this down, at least he’s still in good spirits.

“It is to me.” And for the hell of it, because he tastes too damn good, I lean in and move my mouth over his one more time, reveling in the way his beard grazes my skin, the softness of his lips, and the way he surrenders his control, letting me kiss him again.

When I pull away, his eyes slowly open this time. He lets out a low, deep “fuck.”

Just the reaction to make a girl feel like she has all the power.

I smile to myself and then climb off his lap. I hold my hand out to him. “Walk me to my house?”

He stands, adjusts himself, and then tosses the forgotten cocoa into the snow. Then he places the cup back on the top the thermos and offers it to me before he takes my hand in his.

Together, we walk along the shoveled sidewalk and up the porch to Aunt Cindy’s door, Taran’s bright lights showing off Cole’s handsome face.

“Thanks for coming over,” he says quietly.

“Thanks for letting me sit on your lap.”

He smiles. “Yeah, you can do that anytime.”

“Noted.” I stand on my toes and kiss him again, but when I pull away, I poke my finger into his chest. “Don’t think this changes anything, though. You’re still my number-one competitor, and I have no problem showing you who should win this competition.”

“Storee, I can tell you right now, Snow Daddy is going to take this one.”

I chuckle. “We shall see. Good night, Cole.”

“Good night,” he says softly.

And then with one more final kiss, I pat him on the chest and head back into Aunt Cindy’s house, a smile on my face, that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach no longer there.