Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  She’d moved on, like any sane person after a freaking decade.

  Serenity had been his first love. As hard as he’d tried in the last ten years, he hadn’t found anybody else to give his heart to since. Nobody measured up to the woman he’d elevated in his mind. Letting her go to LA had been the dumbest mistake he’d ever made. No, he thought, shifting on his hard, wooden chair, that would have been breaking up with her while they were freshman in college. For her own good, he’d told himself.

  Catching her on the sidewalk had dunked him into sensory overload. What was real, what were his memories of her? The curve of her hip—the silky fabric of her dress, definitely today. She’d been skinny in high school.

  Serenity burst through the door with her head high, her strawberry blonde waves in perfect cascades down her back, almost to her butt. It used to be to her shoulders, kept often in a ponytail.

  Her skin was not as tan as he remembered, though she still had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Her green eyes had been expertly outlined and now sported lashes much longer than he knew her real lashes to be.

  That blue dress just looked expensive, as did her sandals, and pedicured toes. Two toe rings, one in silver, one in gold—no ring on her left hand, but one on her thumb.

  “Serenity,” he called, rising from his seat and striding forward.

  Bob, behind the counter, arched a brownish-silver brow at him in approval, or appreciation, or both. They’d become friends over the last year when Ryker had stopped by after Friday morning beach clean-up for coffee. Now Bob often joined him to comb the shore for trash.

  Time had made Serenity even more beautiful. She had glamour now, as if she’d learned how to shine up her assets for the best.

  The girl he’d known in high school was happy with no makeup, a t-shirt, and shorts—better yet, just a bikini as they’d practically lived on his little boat.

  “Hey!” She smiled cautiously.

  Could he blame her? He’d been a jerk at the end, thinking he was doing the right thing to let her fly—to make her leave the damn nest, because she hadn’t wanted to, but she’d earned a full scholarship. It was her chance to see something besides their small seaside town. And at eighteen, he’d been no king of diplomacy.

  They gave each other a very awkward hug, and he realized by the way she shrank back slightly that she regretted agreeing to meet him. That stung.

  They ordered lattes—iced skinny vanilla for her to go, hot eggnog for him in a ceramic mug, and sat at the table. She popped right back up to take a few pictures of the coffee shop’s interior, focusing on the beachy holiday décor, seahorses and starfish ornaments on the wall, and then she rested her chin on his shoulder and snapped a selfie of them. She showed him the picture—he with a semi-surprised frown—and she laughed ruefully.

  “Still shy?” Serenity shook her head. “How someone as handsome as you doesn’t like his picture taken is beyond me. You would think you had three nostrils or crooked teeth.”

  Bob brought their coffees over, and Ryker didn’t miss the way the barista eyed Serenity’s long, toned legs—a nice compliment from a man who preferred men. “Thanks, Bob,” he said.

  “Thanks!” She tossed back her long hair in a practiced move. “This place is adorable—how long have you been in business?”

  “Three years,” Bob said, preening under her attention as if he wasn’t a grown man.

  Ryker’d forgotten that Serenity had the gift of gab and could talk to anyone about anything, and usually did.

  She handed Bob a business card from a pouch in her sparkly phone case. “Check me out on Instagram—I’ll post about this amazing coffee shop.”

  “Thank you!” Bob pocketed the card and hurried back behind the coffee bar as a customer came in.

  “Why did you give him your card?” He looked at her over the rim of his mug. “You know he’s gay, right?”

  Serenity sipped daintily from the paper straw, then wrinkled her nose. “So, he can follow me.” With an elaborate eye roll, she pulled the straw from her latte and set it aside. “I get that plastic is terrible, but I hate these straws.”

  Plastic was a hot button. “Plastic is harmful to the marine ecosystem. You realize that sea turtles—”

  She held up her hand to make him stop. “Nice to know you haven’t changed. I’m just saying there needs to be a third option.”

  What did she mean by that? They used to talk about ways to make a change, but from what he could see, she just wanted to decorate the world in glitter. “Well, you have changed.”

  Her brow winged upward at his tone, which perhaps he could have tempered. She forced a smile and drank her latte, without the straw. “So. What do you do with yourself these days?”

  God, this was worse than being set up on a blind date. He’d kept her memory—innocent, sweet, playful, brave, intelligent, willing to tackle things head on—at the back of his mind and now all of those images would be replaced by this sparkling version of her.

  He’d imagined her in Los Angeles, a teacher in literature or debate as she led the feminist’s movement on campus. Or maybe she ran a company. Surely something to advocate equal rights. Making a difference in a way she couldn’t do here. He’d imagined beiges and sandalwood oil—not this…aqua blue Barbie.

  He cleared his throat, his shoulders bowed. “I work at the Volunteer Fire Department as a certified firefighter—I get to ride the ATV up and down the beach.” It was a dream career being able to help folks in need and protect the beach he loved.

  She cupped her napkin around her drink to sop up the condensation. “That sounds very interesting. Are you looking for sea turtles?”

  “Sometimes, during hatchling season, other times it’s just important to have a visual patrol on the beach. No wild parties, like in Miami.” He smiled at her and he wondered if she would remember the night they’d gone to South Beach as teens.

  She eyed him blankly, blinking those incredibly long lashes. No reference to them getting sick as dogs off sangria—he hadn’t been able to drink the sweet wine since. “Do you enjoy your job?”

  “I do,” he said. Serenity took another dainty sip from her cup, her pink lips too perfect to be real. What had happened to the woman he’d loved? “What about you?” Had she become the stereotype actress wanna-be? A model who waited tables while dreaming of her big break? He’d bet his last paycheck that she was no professor. That would be way too dull for the woman sitting before him.

  “I’m a social influencer,” she said with a note of pride.

  He wrapped his hands round his mug. “What’s that?”

  “I get paid to give my opinion on social media.”

  Ryker laughed in surprise. He’d been raised in a house where you kept your opinion to yourself. “That’s really a job?” He’d have to let his dad know.

  “Yeah.” She studied him as if to see if he was serious—but he’d honestly never heard of it.

  “How does it work?”

  Serenity finished her iced latte and rattled the cubes in the cup. “This is really delicious. So, I’ll give Bob at Fresh Brew a good review to my fans on Instagram. I have a quarter million followers.” She pulled another card from her phone case and gave him one. “You haven’t updated your Facebook page since college.”

  She’d checked? He thought back but had no clue as to what was even on that old page. “Why waste time with that? I talk to my friends and family in person.” He ran his thumb over the slick hot pink surface of her card. Serenity’s smiling face peered at him, along with her Twitter handle, Instagram address, and Facebook.

  “Facebook is old-school, but still viable,” she said, flipping her long hair. “Reviews can make or break a business. If I like something then I’ll share it—if I don’t, then,” she shrugged, “I’ll share that too. My followers know that I’ll give them my honest opinion.”

  “What do you review?” Restaurants made sense, or movies. Books.

  “Beauty products, mostly—I share post
s on life and love.”

  Ryker quickly hid his expression in his cup, drinking the eggnog too fast and burning his tongue. By all the angels and saints, he hadn’t seen that coming. She was very attractive, always had been, but she hadn’t cared about makeup or clothes at all in debate class, or on the boat, her nose sunburned, her hair in a sloppy ponytail.

  Designer brands hadn’t been something either could afford if they’d even been interested.

  He forced himself to see the truth. Had there been something that he’d sensed she needed, and that was why he’d been so adamant about her going to LA? She’d been his soul mate, he’d connected with her, and she with him.

  She hadn’t wanted to leave. Who would she have been if she’d stayed?

  It was clear that they’d grown apart. Too far apart. Beauty products? She was famous for sharing her opinion on wrinkle cream that she didn’t even need?

  Serenity made no effort to hide the fact that she was checking the time on her phone. “Well,” she said, too brightly, “This has been…I should get back to Tiff. Poor thing is uncomfortable, and baby isn’t due for four more weeks. They say January 17th.”

  The baby. “What sex is she having?”

  “Well,” she said, her eyes flashing, “very little right now I’d imagine.”

  “What?” That teasing glance! He wanted to laugh with her no matter the joke. Oh, what had she even just said?

  She laughed and tapped his hand. “They’re having a boy but haven’t decided on a name yet. It’s such a big responsibility, naming a person. I don’t have a good track record—remember my parakeet, Blue? Because he was blue?” With a smile she got to her feet and brought her empty cup to the trash, tossing it in. “Listen, have a great holiday, if I don’t see you again before I go back to LA.” She waved to Bob, then to Ryker, then ducked out the door.

  He remembered the bird all right, and how sad she’d been when it had died—how thoughtless her mother had been suggesting she toss the dead pet in the trash, so he’d helped Serenity bury Blue in the sand dunes.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Bob said. “Makes me want to consider switching back.”

  Ryker got up and watched her walk away, the blue of her dress a beacon. So, coffee had been a disaster. Reality sucked. “Yeah. But looks aren’t everything. She used to be a really cool girl. What’s a social influencer?”

  Bob, somewhere in his fifties, wiped the counter with a white towel. “Hell if I know. But Ryker, you need your head checked if you don’t think she’s worth your time.”

  He tapped his temple in agreement. One head-check coming up—he’d call his brother Toby to set him straight. “Maybe. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven? I have new grippers for the plastic bottles since the last one broke.”

  “Perfect. See you there.”

  Serenity Perez. She hadn’t turned out how he’d imagined at all—yet he knew he wouldn’t forget the sway of her…hair, as she’d sailed out of the coffee shop on a wave of something floral. He’d sent her away…but he always thought she’d come back.

  Chapter Three

  Serenity was in no rush as she dallied back to her sister’s house; the temperature was in the high seventies, nicer winter weather even than California. Ryker weighed heavily with each step. Hot, hot, hot. Of course he’d be a fireman, and patrol the beach. He’d been a lifeguard for years. Buff and oblivious to the stir his red swimsuit had caused any woman with a pulse. She posted the selfie she’d taken of them, captioning it, Facing My Past.

  Salt tinged the lightly humid air and she shared photos of hibiscus and gardenia as well as the birds of paradise before arriving at Tiffany’s sweet three-bedroom bungalow—built from cement in the sixties and made to withstand tropical storms.

  Two palm trees, on either side of a limestone path, shaded the front yard. A detached garage created a twelve-foot breezeway they’d enclosed with screen, allowing a covered area for the dogs.

  Lush Kentucky grass ran to the fence and the Intracoastal Waterway in the back of the property. There was a fenced-in pool area with a barbecue. After three years of dog-walking, her sister had bought this place on her own, before meeting Jonas. Her business paid well—especially during season, October to April.

  She knocked lightly before opening the door; two black and white spotted Dalmatians greeted her with wagging tails and bright black eyes. For the Christmas holiday each pup wore a green and red plaid collar, monogrammed with their name. To the left was the sitting room with the television, faux fireplace and mantel, and an eight-foot Christmas tree. Cinnamon incense. To the right was the laundry room. Straight back was the kitchen, and the second three-foot decorated tree, that overlooked the canal as well as the pool.

  “Tiff?”

  “In the bedroom,” her sister called, and the dogs darted down the tiled hall as if to escort her straight there.

  This side of the house had the master bedroom with an en suite bathroom, and the other had two bedrooms with a shared bath—and the leering Santa on the toilet seat. Ho, ho, ho.

  Her sister was folding towels, using her baby bump as a shelf. She wore a dark green t-shirt and maternity shorts. “How’d it go? Aren’t the dogs great?”

  She and her sister shared the same green eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and freckles. Their mom used to joke that it was like Tiffany was Serenity, but shrunk in the dryer. Neither of them had appreciated their mother’s sense of humor.

  “Cyrus is a horse, and Sweet Pea should be named Pudgy.”

  Tiffany burst out laughing. “She needs more walks, or for her owner to stop feeding her treats. She has the best temperament, though. But I want to know about Ryker—how was coffee with your old crush?”

  If what she’d felt back then had only been a crush, then she wouldn’t be a mess of conflicted emotions right now—but she didn’t share that with her sister. Serenity leaned against the doorframe and scanned her pictures, checking her stats. The selfie with Ryker had a lot of likes. “He hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “What do you mean?” Tiff reached for another towel from the laundry basket.

  She showed Tiff Ryker’s half-frown selfie at the coffee shop. “He still hates pictures, and when we were having coffee at that super cute Fresh Brew, all I said was that I wasn’t a fan of the paper straw—that earned me an immediate lecture on how many tons of plastic are in the ocean killing the fish and coral.”

  Tiffany sighed. “I see him sometimes cleaning up on the beach. He takes that stuff seriously.”

  “So do I—but I’m not going crazy about it.” She and Ryker used to lie beneath the stars and dream of how the world could be better. It was great that he was walking the walk and doing his part. She was too, in her way.

  Her career had begun with modeling contracts in college, where she’d grown a steady following as she shared the good and bad parts of her journey, including name brands of clothing or swimsuits, makeup, sunscreen…and then companies started offering her products in exchange for reviews. She always gave her honest opinion and was now able to charge an ample fee for her endorsement.

  The picture of the inflatable Santa on the dolphin already had a thousand likes. “Funny how neither one of us ended up with a normal job.”

  “Mom complained all the time of having to work nine to six, and how it killed her soul working in a cubicle.” Tiff shuddered. “Guess that made an impact, huh?”

  Serenity gave an unsure smile. “Have you heard from Jonas?”

  Tiff’s eyes welled as she heaved the stack of towels from the foot of her bed to the bathroom closet. Not even this room had been saved from Christmas decorations, with a snowman toothbrush holder on the sink counter. “Nope. Not since he landed.”

  “You know that if things are tight for you, I can help okay? No strings.” Serenity lowered her phone to make sure Tiffany knew she was serious. “I have some money set aside for emergencies. With the baby coming, you shouldn’t be stressed.”

  “You’re sweet, sis, but we have money.” Tiff
any set the empty laundry basket in her closet. “I didn’t want to burden you too much, so I have another person walking the other four dogs for me.”

  Tiff had told her once that she charged forty-five bucks a dog, per day. Serenity did the math quickly on her phone. 86,000 a year. “Wow.” That made cleaning up after the furry beasts a little easier to take. “So why is Jonas in Beijing for a job interview when you’re so close to your due date?”

  “It’s a month out still,” she touched her belly, “and this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him to manage a finance company in Fort Lauderdale. He had to jump on it. Finance is his expertise—not dogs.” Tiff scratched behind Glitz’s ear. “I mean, he helps with them because we’re a team, but it isn’t his passion.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  Her pert nose scrunched. “Just you being here takes a load of worry off my shoulders. Thanks for coming so quick. I know you’ve got a lot going on. What did you think of the full-immersion seaweed wrap?”

  LA was all about crazy new things which was what she loved about it. It was also over-crowded and expensive. It had never felt like home, not like this. But with Ryker here? How could she move back? He was the same, but he’d also changed. A fireman, for heaven’s sake. She’d checked his ring hand, but it had been bare. Why wasn’t he married? She waved her hot face as she recalled his hands on her waist, the way his touch had slid off. His hard chest under her cheek.

  “You okay?” Tiff asked. “You’re bright red.”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. Seaweed wrap. “My skin was amazing afterward, but the price point is high, a thousand bucks, so I don’t know how to make it accessible across America.” She would be meeting with the new company via Skype next week to discuss a launch for the New Year.

  “You have the best job. I love the samples you send and can’t wait to wear that combo foundation, moisturizer and sunscreen but right now everything makes me break out.” Tiffany pulled her hair back into a loose bun. Her sister wore no makeup, no product, and yet the woman was stunning.