Stuck With You: A Christmas Romance

by Lara Swann

  “Hey.” I murmur, nudging her before that can take over the mood between us too much. “How about we go have a snowball fight?”

  “What? Why?” She looks up at me, confused.

  “I’ve always wanted to have a snowball fight on Christmas day.” I say, honestly. I’ve always liked the idea of that, just as I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a cold, winter Christmas.

  Lauren blinks, looking back at me for a moment, before finally grinning.

  “Sure, why not?” She says, standing up and stretching. I can almost feel that contemplative malaise begin to slip away as she does. “Even if I’m pretty sure snowball fights between two people are meant to be more of a spontaneous-surprise-ambush thing.”

  “Okay.” I agree, following her up off the couch. “Why don’t you go outside, and I’ll surprise you?”

  “Yep. That’s definitely how surprises work.” She eyes me as we start to pull on our winter gear. “Like I’m about to let you start off with an advantage.”

  “Even though I’m the one from California and you won a prize for throwing snowballs just a few days ago?” I ask, amused.

  “Yep. When you put it like that, I’ve got expectations to live up to.” She says, opening the door.

  I reach forward and pull her back into my arms before she can leave through it, kissing her hard and making her gasp against me. “Then I won’t hold back.”

  “Ohhh, please don’t.” She groans, shuddering delightfully in my arms and kissing me again before pulling away and running out of the cabin.

  I laugh and take off after her - out into the refreshingly biting cold, with gray skies darkening the world and snow swirling around us. Perfect. Just what I’d always pictured.

  A snowball hits me as I’m just standing there appreciating all that, and I laugh all over again, spluttering as I wipe it off the back of my head and duck down, looking for cover.

  “Hey!” I try to object, but I’m already forming my own and looking around for Lauren in the wind.

  Within minutes, we’re running and shouting and throwing to the best of our ability, skidding and tripping over in the snow almost as much as we send each other tumbling. It’s hilarious, exhilarating and exactly the kind of fun I was looking for, and everything else vanishes in a flurry of snow and competition, the mood between us lightening almost immediately, as everything else is forgotten about.

  Exactly what I was hoping for.

  By the time we come to a slow stop, we’re both panting in exhaustion and still half-laughing from our child-like antics around the cabin. I’m starting to notice the chill of frozen snow clinging to me in odd places and my gloves are almost sodden with it now - but Lauren is almost covered in it, her dark jacket speckled with snow, her hair damp and every exposed part of skin rosy-red from the cold. It was obvious in moments that I’m clearly the better shot, despite whatever practice she might have had growing up.

  “Truce?” I offer with a grin, raising an eyebrow as I approach warily.

  “Truce.” She agrees, letting me wrap my arm around her shoulder and leaning into me with a sigh. “Thanks, Tristan. This was—”

  I thrust my other hand - and the snowball hidden within it - underneath her jacket and down her back in one quick motion and she jumps away from me with a shriek.

  “Eeeee! Fuck, Tristan—you bastard!” She yells in shock, jumping up and down.

  “You wanted a surprise.” I remind her, laughing at the way she’s shaking herself and trying to dig the snow out.

  “You—you—”

  I pull her to me, her outrage only spurring me on, and kiss her again even as she thumps my chest.

  “If you’re just still for a moment and let it melt…” I say as I hold her.

  “Screw you.” She says, laughing. “C’mon, you know what’ll actually warm me up? Being back in the cabin with a nice open fire…”

  I grin and follow her back towards the cabin, both of us stomping through the snow.

  “You know.” I say. “For someone who won first prize for throwing snowballs, I would’ve thought you’d be a little better at it…”

  “You don’t know how many times it took me to win that prize…” She mutters, and I raise an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Oh? How many did it take?” I grin.

  “And I’m not about to tell you. C’mon, I’ve still got a turkey to prepare.” She answers, as we both get inside and shrug off our winter gear. Half of her clothes are wet anyway, and I start the fire for her while she goes to change, grabbing a towel to dry off my hair as well.

  “Okay.” She sighs in satisfaction, coming back to stand in front of the fire for a moment. “Food time.”

  “Need any help?”

  “Well, I was going to cook for you…but after what you just pulled, yeah, you can help.” She says, giving me a narrowed look that makes me laugh.

  “The fire doesn’t make up for that?” I ask with a smirk, standing up from it to dust off my hands.

  “It’s a start—the potatoes and veg can be next.”

  Next, huh?

  I get the feeling this is going to be a long process. Not that I can say I really mind, not from the spark in her eyes that has me thinking I’ll probably enjoy where it ends up.

  With that, we start preparing a traditional Christmas meal, juggling what feels like a dozen different types of food all at once—putting things in the oven and taking them out at, as far as I can tell, totally random times that Lauren seems to just know, and getting the table set attractively with the crackers and place settings she bought just for this. However much she objected to cooking earlier on this vacation, it’s immediately obvious that it’s not because she can’t. For this meal, at least, she seems to have it down to a fine art. Yeah, she really has gone all out.

  There’s a part of me that thinks I should be finding it all a little over-the-top and unnecessary, but…I don’t. Instead, I’m really enjoying the time in the kitchen with her, and how excited and enthusiastic she seems about every little part of it.

  “Ah, wow.” She says, as we relax in the kitchen with a couple of glasses of wine, waiting for the turkey to rest and everything else to finish off in the oven. “It’s so much easier cooking for just two people.”

  I stare at her. “Mm, Lauren, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’ve been preparing this non-stop for the last two hours.”

  “But it was so relaxed, don’t you think?”

  I laugh, thinking of all the frantic activity of the last few hours. “Ah…I’m not sure that’s exactly what I’d call it.”

  She grins. “In my parents’ house, it’s chaos, I promise you. I mean, okay, part of that might be because we’re trying to juggle the kids and cats and the dog while making Christmas dinner, but still…Mom prepares seemingly endless food in the month leading up to Christmas, we all bring something, and yet…come Christmas day, we’re still all there for hours trying to get everything done. And no matter what, there’s always something we’ve forgotten. Always—oh shit! The gravy.”

  She sets her glass down on the counter with a hard clink and spins around, searching for a jug, then giggles as she starts assembling different ingredients.

  “Well, I guess this is a tradition until the very end.” She grins at me. “And at least gravy is something that only takes a few minutes to make.”

  “Lauren, really, we don’t need—why don’t you sit down and enjoy your wine? Relax now, it’s almost ready.”

  “Nope. I’m not about to let you experience your first traditional Christmas meal without gravy. That would be tragic.”

  “I have had turkey before, you know.” I say, amused. “Just not on Christmas day—”

  “And not with all the trimmings, either.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve tried most of them at some point or another, and—”

  “That’s not the same. Not at all. And this is on Christmas day. So there.”

  “I really hope you’re not doing this
all just for me.” I say, looking around at the chaos that’s exploded throughout the kitchen and feeling a little bit guilty. “I mean—I appreciate it, really, but—”

  But I’m not sure I can live up to that sort of expectation…or appreciate it in the way she wants me to. I’m not about to suddenly fall in love with the magical traditional Christmas…

  “It’s not just for you.” She says, calming down in her gravy-frenzy enough to look back at me with surprisingly understanding eyes. “I told you, I was going to make it just for me, anyway.”

  “Right.” I nod, surprised how much that reassures me. “Okay, well in that case, I don’t mind helping you eat it.”

  I grin at her as she indicates everything is finally ready, helping her carve the turkey while she assembles the food exactly how she thinks it should go on the plates. I had no idea this was so involved.

  “Okay, ready! We’re finally done.” She grins at me, her eyes glittering with excitement, and just seeing that makes all this worth it.

  I take the heaping plate of food she offers me, then pause as I look back at the dishes spread out on the counter.

  “Wait, Lauren…we’ve barely touched any of this.”

  “Of course not. Christmas leftovers are the best kind of leftovers.” She says, leading the way to the dining table.

  “Okay. I can get behind that idea.”

  We settle into place, pop some champagne and toast each other with enthusiasm, then exchange crackers before digging into the food - and I have to admit, it really is good. I’ve had roast turkey dinners before, of course, but this…is something more. I’m not sure whether it’s the addition of way more sides and condiments than I’d usually have, or everything being homemade from all of Lauren’s personal recipes, but whatever combination of things…the result really is something special.

  The idea of all the leftovers ready for the next day suddenly becomes even more appealing, and I start to understand why Christmas is usually a multi-day event for most people.

  “Thank you for all this, Lauren.” I say, as the food gradually starts defeating us and we slow down, lingering longer over the glasses of champagne, and then wine. “It’s really good.”

  She smiles, and I can read the contentment in her expression.

  “I’m glad. Thank you for humoring me.” She says, then gestures around us, taking in the decorations, food and everything else as she looks back at me with bright eyes. “So what do you think? Of all this?”

  “I’ve had a great time today.” I say, meeting her gaze and leaning over to take her hand as I smile softly. “And I’m glad I got to experience this—at least once.”

  I genuinely mean it, too. I’m not sure how much of that was due to her traditions, or how much was because I spent it with her, but it’s been a wonderful Christmas. And since I’ve never done this before, it even ticks all my boxes in being something new and different to try, too.

  Her face softens with warmth and she smiles back at me, obviously pleased, until I can’t help myself and lean forward to kiss her, enjoying the way she seems to melt into me now all the effort and activity of the day is done. There’s a wonderfully contented kind of exhaustion between us, and I can’t help wondering whether this is what most people feel by the end of the day.

  “One more thing.” She says, as she pulls back with a covert smile. I’m about to ask, when she pulls something out from the seat next to her. “I got you something.”

  It’s not until she passes it over and I see the wrapping paper that I realize what it is.

  “Oh, shit.” I say, as a wave of emotions passes over me. Damn it, I thought I was past getting emotional about gifts. I immediately feel guilty, too. “I didn’t think we were—I haven’t—”

  “No, I know.” She says quickly. “This isn’t—I just saw it and I wanted to give it to you, that’s all. I didn’t want anything from you. Really. It’s not like that.”

  I can tell from her earnest expression that she means it, but I can’t help feeling awkward anyway.

  “But…” I glance around, looking at the decorations she bought and the meal she’s made, and the feeling only intensifies. “You’ve done so much for me today and I don’t—I didn’t—”

  Shit. Why didn’t I think to get her anything? That’s what people in crazy short-term flings do, right? Get each other something to remember them by?

  “What makes you think this was all just for you?” She asks, smiling softly as she reaches across to take my hand. It brings my attention back to her gaze, which is simply warm and compassionate - not the slightest bit disappointed that I haven’t reciprocated. “Or that you haven’t done anything for me, either? I’m glad you’re here, Tristan. This has been a much better Christmas than I could have imagined and the truth is…I don’t know how I would have felt if I’d ended up out here all alone on Christmas day. I know I thought that’s what I wanted, but…well…I’m glad that’s not the way it worked out.”

  I take a breath as the truth of her words sinks in and I finally push aside my own confused feelings to squeeze her hand back in reassurance. This is a lovely gesture, and I don’t want to spoil it with my strangely mixed reaction.

  “Okay.” I say, giving her a slightly rueful smile. “I guess I’ll accept that, but I’m still sorry I didn’t think about it. This is sweet of you.”

  I push back my plate and set it in front of me as she comes around to perch on the corner of the table to watch me rip it carefully open—revealing a gorgeous, embossed leather-bound book with pattern on the front that hints at a snowstorm over a mountain. I open it up, and the pages inside have plastic pockets that—

  “It’s a photo album.” I say, surprised. “I’ve never seen one in a book like this.”

  “I asked if they could do that—for the pages on the inside.” She says. “I thought it would be a nice memento.”

  I look up at her.

  Shit, she went to that effort too?

  “It’s beautiful.” I say softly, running my hands over it again. There’s a strange hot-electric feeling in my chest as I do, and I know it’s mostly just my not-quite-discarded hangups about holidays and presents, but that doesn’t make it any less powerful. “Thank you, Lauren.”

  “You’re welcome.” She says, looking just as happy as if she’d been the one receiving a gorgeous, unexpected gift.

  She leans forward and I stand up to pull her back into my arms, kissing her long and hard, and trying not to let the unexpected waves of emotion overwhelm me too much. Damn, I certainly wasn’t expecting Christmas this year to make me feel like this…but she’s right. This is so much better than I would have found out here by myself.

  We spend the rest of the evening finishing the champagne—and then the wine—while we chat quietly and clear away the leftover food. A while later, we finally collapse together onto the couch - and it’s perhaps the best part of one of the best days I’ve had for a long while.

  Chapter Ten

  Tristan

  “I can’t believe I managed to pull you away from your photography for this.” Lauren says, laughing as she sorts the jigsaw puzzle pieces into different piles.

  “And I’m surprised you’re letting me infringe on your alone time at all.” I retort, smirking at her as she blushes, redness spreading across her cheeks.

  “Okay, that’s fair.” She admits, giving me a sheepish look. “And I’m sorry about all that. I was clearly mistaken…it looks like what I really needed from this vacation was company, instead…”

  She leans into me, brushing her lips across mine, and I wrap one arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. We’re both sitting on the couch together, with the puzzle laid out on the table in front of us and the fire slowly fading in the background. The wind whips around the cabin, snow spattering against the walls and creating a just the right atmosphere for this kind of intimate time together.

  “It’s true, I’m not sure I would have thought of doing something like this on my vacation.” I
acknowledge. “But there are certain advantages…”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Well, it’s relaxing…”

  “You haven’t gotten to the part where you just can’t find something that fits, yet.”

  “And we get to sit close together like this…” I continue, ignoring her quick retort. “…where we’re rather prone to distraction…”

  I twist around, pinning her back against the couch and making her moan as I kiss her hard, leaving her breathless and pressing up against me. That just makes me smirk.

  “Tristan…that’s not fair…”

  “It’s the best kind of fair.”

  “Not sure…I can argue…with that…” She says, in between snatching kisses from me and trying to get her legs wrapped around my hips. I’m more than happy to let her and from there the afternoon devolves into alternating between the puzzle and…all the distractions surrounding it.

  It’s not how I ever would have pictured myself spending a vacation, but I’m surprised by how much I enjoy those simple moments when we curl up inside together for whatever crazy idea Lauren might come up with next - whether it’s jigsaw puzzles, movies, making apple pie or picking out one of the random board games Greg left in the cabin for some friendly competition. They’re almost as good as the times I drag her out of bed at sunrise to go hiking and we find a few totally pristine, untouched areas together in the snow.

  With all of that to occupy us, the days pass quicker than either of us would like, even as we try to make the most of every moment and ignore the eventual end of what has quickly become one of the best vacations I’ve ever had.

  The day before New Year’s Eve, we go back to the Maroon Bells area again, both of us wanting to see it one last time. This time, I do bring my camera, as I have occasionally to the other places we’ve explored this week - mostly because I like the thought of filling the photo album she gave me with some of the activities we’ve done here together.

  It’s strange when I think about how often it hasn’t been with me over the last few days - and how much less interested I’ve been in taking photos at all - but for once, I don’t want to slip into the tunnel-vision that my work usually gives me. I’d much rather focus on enjoying this time with Lauren while I can instead. My camera will still be waiting for me when this vacation is over - and I’m surprised by just how much I’m enjoying the break, too.