“Screw you, Benji. He is important,” Sasha said, hot and flushed. Benji and Rosie shared a gotcha smile, and Sasha wanted to face plant into her pancakes. She’d played into their tricky little hands. “I fucked up because I didn’t want to say goodbye to him. I let him weasel his way under my defenses, and now I’m screwed.”
“Why don’t you tell us about him?” Rosie said.
“Fine.” Sasha ate a bite angrily, then moaned because the pancakes were so fucking tasty. “He just moved here from Topeka, as in he hasn’t even unpacked his vehicle, and is hoping to live with his sister. He used to be an accountant but is enrolled in school starting in the spring for horticulture and landscape architecture. He’s sweet, expressive, willing to experiment. Great in bed. He loves romance novels and Christmas. I don’t know. I liked him.” She lifted her shoulders, despair souring the food in her stomach.
“So he’s perfect,” Benji said, pretending to swoon into Rosie, the back of his hand on his forehead.
“Except for the whole homeless, jobless thing,” Rosie added, playfully shoving Benji away.
“He has a plan, though and doesn’t seem to be a flake,” Sasha said.
Rosie tapped a pink fingernail against her bottom lip. “You keep defending him. You like him, Sasha. What’s holding you back?”
“She scared,” Benji whispered, pretending Sasha couldn’t hear him.
“Yes, fine. Okay. I’m scared. Wouldn’t you be? The last time I fell for a Christmas-loving, softhearted asshole, he literally left me at the altar. P.J. was a good guy too. He was sweet and open and we matched. I thought we fit. I can’t trust … myself. I can’t trust myself.”
The aisle at their wedding flashed in her eyes, unwanted and painful. It had been lined with candles and Douglas fir garland. After Rosie had informed the guests that the wedding was off, Sasha had sat down at the end of that beautiful, festive aisle and bawled her eyes out. Tears pricked her eyes at the memory, the embarrassment rushing up on her like heartburn.
She took a shuddering breath. “The anniversary of my jilting is days away. It’s hard to imagine allowing myself to be open ever again. Also, look around. Benji, how many men have cheated on or ghosted you?” She ignored his indignant disagreement. “And Rosie, you’re currently waist deep in divorce lawyers! You can’t even be in the same room with he-who-shall-not-be-named. Our parents hated each other. And—”
“Stop.” Sasha reeled back at Rosie’s quiet voice. It was her teacher voice, and it worked wonders on tiny children, as well as grown-ass adults. “I am not you. Benji isn’t you. Our parents are immaterial. They don’t count. The jerks Benji and I have dated or married are not … what’s his name again? Percy?”
“Perry,” Sasha said, her voice small.
“Perry. That’s a sweet name. He sounds nice. If you don’t believe in relationships because they’re not right for you or you know they won’t ever fulfill you, then fine. If you’re not ready, I understand that, and we’ll support you. But don’t you dare blame not wanting a relationship on me and Benji.”
Sasha stared at her sister for a long moment, her heart lumped in her throat. Benji’s eyes were wide.
Then the floodgates opened. No rhyme or reason for it. Maybe it was her sister’s strong, soft voice—she hated feeling like she’d gotten in trouble. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or maybe it was that she was facing down her belief system, the core of herself, that she’d been holding onto so tightly, and it was crumbling.
Once the tears hit her cheeks, Rosie yelped in surprise and knocked over her empty mimosa glass while reaching for her.
“Oh shit, Sasha. I’m so sorry!” Rosie said.
Both Benji and Rosie rushed to Sasha’s side of the booth and enveloped her in their arms. Which made her cry harder.
“I’m sorry. Don’t be nice to me. It’s making it worse,” she said with a sniffle, when Benji kissed her temple.
He laughed, and Rosie rubbed her back vigorously. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to cry.”
“I hate Christmas,” she said with a wet laugh. “Saying goodbye to him today sucked. I gave him a prostate massager as a gift.” She hiccupped a little. “And he was so funny and charming about it, and I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to kiss him again and see him again. But he doesn’t want to be friends-with-benefits. He’s a romantic.”
Benji cupped her cheeks between his hands. “You are my hero. A prostate massager to your one-night stand? God, I wish I was as ballsy as you.”
“Two-night stand,” Sasha corrected him.
Rosie brought them back to the issue at hand. “Sasha, you have to tell him how you feel.”
“I don’t know.”
Wouldn’t taking that jump be better than never seeing him again, never experiencing his rough, greedy kisses? She couldn’t imagine never handing him another sex toy, never seeing him laugh or blush. She wanted to see the things he created out of seeds and wood and mulch, wanted to experience the gardens he built when they were in bloom and beautiful.
She closed her eyes, a fissure shooting through her resolve like someone had taken a nutcracker to her heart.
Her life yawned out in front of her, and it suddenly seemed barren. Not because she’d be unhappy living it the way she had for so long. Romance and love weren’t required to feel complete or content. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she had all the love, connection, and intimacy she needed, that her life was full and good.
But her life was missing Perry Winters.
It was a puzzle piece clicking into place. She didn’t need him to be happy. But she wanted him. She wasn’t sure she could let him in completely. It might take work. It might hurt at moments and end in heartache. But maybe he was worth it.
Not maybe.
He was worth it.
She hadn’t thought she’d ever be willing to risk her heart again.
But Perry was … special.
“I think he’s worth it.” She scrubbed a stray tear off her cheek. “Worth the possibility of pain.”
“Christmas is about possibility, Sasha,” Benji said with a big grin. “You got screwed in the Christmas karma department last year. The world owes you a big strapping Christmas hero. He is strapping, right?”
Perry had said he loved Christmas because of the possibility in the air, the potential. Maybe he’d been on to something.
“He’s strapping.”
“And does he want you?” Rosie asked, always the logical one.
“He did. But I kind of rejected him.”
There was no kind of about it. She’d rejected him.
“We need a scheme,” Benji said with a triumphant cackle. He’d had the most mimosas that morning. “A Christmas scheme. You’re the Grinch, and he’s the schoolgirl that cured the black hole where your heart used to be.”
“He’s Cindy Lou Who,” Rosie whispered, excitement and awe in her voice. Evidently, even Sasha’s rational, reasonable sister could be moved by the spirit of the season.
“A Christmas scheme,” Sasha repeated, her mind reeling with all the things Perry had said he loved about Christmas—the possibility in the air, the romance, the excitement. “I think I know exactly who could help.”
Chapter Nine
Valerie woke Perry up from his doze on the couch with a mug of eggnog.
“Hey, Val.”
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Sorry I passed out on you.”
“It’s okay. You needed the shut-eye. You’ve got dark circles. Looks like you’ve been punched.”
He felt like it too.
He hadn’t slept much since the snow-pocalypse had passed and everyone had gone back to their regularly scheduled lives. Including Sasha.
He was moping, basically. Sad that he’d felt a connection that evidently wasn’t there. Mad at himself for wanting to push when she wasn’t interested.
He was also exhausted from a busy morning setting up for the Soiree. The enormous formal dining room had been converted into
a romantic dance floor, with a small portable stage at one end for a band. There were candles all over the main floor of the inn, which would lend the night an intimate ambiance. Mistletoe had been hung from every doorway. Hors d'oeuvres would be circulated and wine would flow. The backyard path to the gazebo had been cleared and heaters, along with candles and boxwood wreathes, adorned the cozy white structure.
It had been a busy few days. He’d helped with the planning and setup for the party, as well as moved into the carriage house with Valerie. He hadn’t wanted to take up a room that she could be selling.
When he and Valerie hadn’t been elbow deep in party planning, they’d gorged on cheesy Christmas movies. He wanted to remember why he loved this season, why it filled him with awe and excitement. But if watching holiday movies had taught him anything, it was that love was in the air at Christmas. Too bad it had only infected one party.
He took a long gulp of his eggnog and only then did he notice Valerie’s clothes.
“Oh shit, what time is it?”
She was already in her party dress, a tight black thing with a wine-red belted bow. He wasn’t into fashion, but the dress was perfect on her. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes done up, her long curly hair pulled into a sophisticated topknot.
“It’s five. You need to get your fancy duds on before the guests arrive.”
She pinched him above his knee, catching the ticklish nerves there, causing him to flinch and slop eggnog onto his wrist.
Older sisters could be the worst.
He wasn’t really attending the party, but he planned to help Valerie coordinate the event and step in as waitstaff if need be.
He pulled himself off Valerie’s couch and rubbed a hand down his face. The thought of being around a house full of romance made his stomach curdle. Normally, he’d be so excited to be around happy couples who were in love.
Not today. Not on the tail end of a rejection that had gutted him more than his last real breakup.
“I invited Louise tonight,” Valerie said right as Perry made it to the threshold of the living room. He pivoted back around slowly.
“Did you now? That’s exciting.” He tried to keep his tone as casual as possible. Valerie had been talking herself out of making a move on Louise for years.
“Yeah. We’ll see. I’ll be busy, but I wanted her here.”
“I’m proud of you, Val.”
“Sasha gave me that final push to take the plunge.”
He gaped at her. “What do you mean?” Hearing Sasha’s name sent a shaft of longing through him.
Valerie shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Sasha told me to ask Louise out, to take the chance. It helped to hear it from an outside observer. I wasn’t sure Louise was actually interested.”
“I’ve been telling you forever that she is.” A mulish frown pulled at his lips.
“Better not pout, Perry. Santa doesn’t like it. You’re my brother. You’re not objective.”
“I can’t believe Sasha gave you dating advice,” he grumbled. “She’s anti-relationship.”
“I know, bub.”
“She’ll push you to ask someone out, but she won’t even consider going on a date with me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why am I mad about this? She’s allowed to feel the way she feels. I understand her position. But I thought she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body, and here she is convincing you to ask out the woman you’ve been crushing on for years. That shouldn’t make me feel so … confused, should it?”
“It’s okay to be confused.” There was an odd glint in Valerie’s eye, like she found Perry hilarious.
He growled. “Never mind. I’m putting on my accounting slacks.”
Valerie laughed at that. “Wear your suspenders. You’ll look hipster hot.”
“No reason for me to look hot,” he said under his breath as he left the room. “The woman I want won’t be here.”
The turnout for the Soiree was rocking. Perry had wondered if the crowd would be smaller than usual, since so many people had lost shopping days during the snow-pocalypse. He’d worried that people would opt for a night at the mall rather than a romantic evening at the local inn.
But couples littered the property like pairs of turtledoves or, in some cases, triads of French hens. He offered a tray of wine and chocolate to two men that were cuddled up in the hearth room as the retro band Valerie hired, Cherry and the Pits, struck up a rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
Both men declined the wine, though one of them took a chocolate-covered strawberry, as they stood up to dance right there in the hearth room. That had been one of the most fascinating parts of this party to Perry when he was a child and spying on the party guests. People slow-danced anywhere and everywhere on the grounds, as if they were so moved by the romance, by the magic of Christmas, by each other, that they just had to hold each other and sway right then.
A vision of dancing with Sasha in the attic to Eartha Kitt, of undressing with Sasha to Eartha Kitt, hit Perry so suddenly it was like a physical punch. He smiled at the men, then moved back into the kitchen where he was essentially alone.
He pressed his palms into the cold granite countertop and hung his head.
Shake it off. Let it go.
She wasn’t yours to keep.
The smoky voice of the lead singer of Cherry and the Pits transitioned between songs with a bit of mellow banter. The sound soothed Perry.
He moved back toward the formal dining room. The flicker of the candlelight chased him through the house. The other lights in the house were dimmed except for the strings on the Christmas trees and garland. It lent the house a romantic air.
He caught sight of his sister talking with a glowing Louise near one of the large windows. Their heads were close together, secret smiles shared between them.
Cherry and the Pits began a slow, melancholy version of his favorite Christmas song—“I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” The lead singer started the song acapella, her sweet voice floating through the house. Couples danced all around Perry, so he squeezed into a corner of the room and closed his eyes. Once the piano joined the singer’s voice, Perry’s breath caught. It was beautiful.
Moving, slow, and almost sad.
She stopped singing, but the piano accompaniment continued. And it was perfect.
Perry kept his eyes shut and let the music wash over him.
“Hi, everyone,” a voice filtered through the mic, the pianist still playing in the background.
Perry jerked off the wall and nearly knocked over a wrought-iron candelabra. His heart lurched into his throat.
Sasha.
This felt like a trick or a bad twist of fate. Was he being Christmas Punk’d?
Didn’t matter. He ate Sasha up with his eyes. She was wearing a vintage-y dark green satin dress with a full, knee-length skirt. Her hair was styled up into a pompadour with winterberries clipped behind her ear. She was feminine, and edgy, and retro all at once, and his heart broke at how much seeing her soothed his soul.
“I’m Sasha. I pulled a big favor in order to be standing up here, so thank you for indulging me. I should have worn a Scrooge costume, but Dame Winterberry herself—Ms. Valerie—vetoed that. See, I hate Christmas.”
Movement on the edge of his vision pulled his attention away. It was Valerie and Louise scooting closer to him through the crowd. The music was playing in the background, soft and expressive, almost a bluesy version of the song.
“What’s happening?” he whispered to his sister. She shushed him with a grin and a wink.
“Let me put it this way,” Sasha continued. “I hated Christmas until I met a wonderful man who is the epitome of the holiday season. He’s everything that’s special about it. He’s cheerful, jolly, and sweet as spiced eggnog. He makes me want to ride a sleigh, and ice skate, and window shop while holding hands in the snow. All these clichés that seemed so silly before, now seem essential, if only I get to do them with him. He sees th
e potential of the season, he believes in love and romance, and good Lord, his lips deserve a constant sprig of mistletoe, let me tell you.”
Perry finally allowed himself to move from his perch in the corner. Everyone parted for him to walk to the front, watching him curiously. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She smiled at him. “But I screwed it up because when he asked me for a date, when he told me he wanted to make this Christmas my best Christmas, I told him no.”
Joy welled up inside him.
This was a grand gesture. Sasha was grand gesturing for him.
“Perry, I regret telling you no. I was scared. I’d like that date, please. I have it all planned out. First things first, we’ll go to this crazy romantic party thrown at this ridiculously cozy B and B because I can’t imagine enjoying this with anyone, except you. With you, it’ll be spectacular. With you, I think anything would be spectacular.”
The crowd chuckled appreciatively at her joke. He was at the front of the crowd now. She stepped away from the microphone, and he gently lifted her down from the stage. He vaguely heard cheers as he caught her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her like it was raining mistletoe.
“Whew, that could have gone horribly wrong,” the lead singer said as she reached the mic again. Then she started another verse of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”
“Will you dance with me?” Sasha asked, her cheeks pink and her hands shaking.
He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t believe she was here for him. He pulled her close and held her like he couldn’t, wouldn’t ever let her go.
She rested her temple against his cheek, and they swayed to the sweet music, caught up in their own world, their own song.
Once the song was over, Perry kissed her ear. “I want to show you something.”
“Is it dirty? Because I’m in for dirty.”
Laughing, he tugged her deeper into his arms. “No. We’re not hiding behind that. I’ve always dreamed of bringing a woman to the Soiree. I don’t want this to end yet.”
She ducked her head and snaked her hands up his back.
Stocking Stuffers Page 12
