by F. G. Adams
“She’s mine, too. I care about her more than you will ever know,” I wearily said. “Look, we can settle our dispute later. Right now, she’s out there, and I need her safe. That’s your job, Captain. You need to bring her back.”
“It’s been a long two days with little sleep. Chasing leads that go nowhere...”
“My shift ended right before the girls left for their run. I took the back exit and saw your second get into a white van. Might not mean anything, but I heard about the vehicle used to take the girls’ description earlier and thought every little bit could help.” Without another thought, I saluted the bastard and walked away.
Sure. I’ve come to terms that she’s not coming back. I suppose. I’m learning to deal with the fact I lost her. Plain and simple. I plan on focusing on furthering my career in the Army. Be all I can be. Right? At least that’s what the slogan reads.
I glance down at the token snow globe of the season and wonder if this would suffice. It’s a Norman Rockwell moment in time. A blissfully happy couple bundled in warmth, smiling lovingly at each other on a sleigh ride after newly fallen snow. Hot coals of anger burn in the pit of my stomach. That should be me and Ella. We should be singing carols, drinking hot chocolate, and riding through the park viewing the endless strings of Christmas lights. But we aren’t. She’s in Lakeview with Grayson, building a happy life with him, having his child. Not mine. I have to keep reminding myself to move on.
The slight bump on my elbow from behind catches me unawares, and the snow globe launches upwards, out of my hand.
“What the hell,” I manage to say under my breath as I fumble profusely with the base of the apparatus while the bumping continues as I attempt to stop the inevitable crash from happening. I cannot stop it, no matter how much I try. In seconds, the shattered perfection litters the department store floor.
Anger simmers low in my gut, threatening to spill out with every tick of the display clock. Somehow, some way, this has got to be Grayson’s fault. I’m positive the harpies are monitoring my humiliation and keeping score.
Fuming, I spin around and come face-to-face with absolutely nothing but blank space.
“Sorry. I’m sooooo sorry. Dang it. I’m really sorry.” A litany of over exaggerated sorrys spill from below.
Following the sound, I look down and find the source. A little sprite of a thing, floundering around on all fours, trying to wrangle the broken pieces into a pile, apologizing the entire time. I shake my head in confusion. Something familiar flickers in the recess of my mind. She moves her hand over the broken glass, and I react immediately.
“Good God, woman. What in the world do you think you are doing? Stop trying to pick that up. You’re going to hurt yourself.” I hear myself and question my sanity as I bend down to offer her a helping hand off the debris-strewn floor.
I reach for her, and somehow, she quickly maneuvers, scrambling between my planted loafers, and rears back. Moving fast, I kick my leg up and out to hurdle her mounding stance, and find myself losing the balance battle when she bumps into me yet again.
Before I can react, I’m twisted up in the slender, petite form, tumbling the short distance to the hard-tiled floor, taking the little pixie demon with me. I land spread-eagled with a grunt and cough when a bony knee finds perch in my gut and two tiny hands land on my chest plate with a huff.
I inhale deeply and glare at the whirlwind maniac of a woman staring down at me.
“Michael,” she breathlessly whispers.
I stifle a groan, realizing I’ve been mega klutzed by my best friend, Kyle’s, little sister.
Holly Mary Edwards is sprawled out on top of me.
And she’s not a little girl anymore.
Fuck me.
She’s stunning.
Chapter 2
“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings for ensuring I haven’t demolished the surface of the planet, or something along that line. Momma’s wings are wide and strong. Had to be; she raised me.” ~ Holly Edwards
My momma, God rest her loving soul, always told me I was her special little Christmas elf. You see, I was born on Christmas Day; that’s why she named me Holly Mary. After years of attempting to get pregnant after my older brother, Kyle, she had given up, believing it wasn’t possible. Then bam out of nowhere. Surprise. I was born, and as she said to me many times, her life changed forever that blessed Christmas morning when a little pink bundle of joy was delivered safely into her arms.
I was her Christmas miracle. She stressed over and over the word special, especially after I caused her heirloom tea set that had been passed down for many generations to crumble and shatter from its sacred perch in the butler’s closet, where it was housed when not in use. That was the first time I remember Kyle calling me a klutz. Big goofball. He didn’t understand. I’m not a klutz. No, siree, on the contrary. I just have a zest for life and don’t want to miss a single moment. At least that’s what I constantly remind myself.
A male groan snags my discombobulated attention. I blow the long bangs obscuring my view upwards, ready to apologize to the stranger, only to connect with a pair of intense sapphire eyes from my teenage dreams.
“Michael.” I reverently breathe out his name, awestruck by his masculine appearance. He is absolutely the prettiest man I have ever laid eyes on. Growing up, I dreamed he was mine. Even named my dolls after the six children we would have some day. To say I had it bad is an understatement. I worshipped the ground he walked on, following him and my brother everywhere they would allow.
The old feelings I had packed away in the recess of my mind when he left for college spring forward full force. He’s here. My hands shake, and I realize I’m splayed out on top of him, my knees on each side of his massive torso. Warmth creeps up from my chest when I notice the embarrassing position I’m in. Not the way I had envisioned our reunion. Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhale and pony up.
“I…I. Hmmm. Well, hello there, Michael. Um… How’s life been treating you?” I nonchalantly sputter as if I’m not on top of him, and offer him my best hello smile.
“Holly,” he patiently drawls and places his large hands on my waist to attempt to untangle us. I plant my feet on either side of him and downward-dog style brace my palms flat, releasing my weight off him only to snatch the pocket of his coat. The sound of ripping material causes me to glance up, and I knock him square in the nasola. Dang it. That had to hurt.
“Stop for just a minute. Holly, be still, damn it,” he patiently demands, not raising his voice.
“I’m trying to…”
“Quit moving before you permanently damage something…or someone, in this instance.” I wiggle a little, and he gravely demands, “Now, Holly.”
I freeze at the off-the-wall comment. What does he know? I haven’t permanently hurt anybody. Broken bones, maybe. But no lasting, harmful repercussions—yet.
He extracts himself to stand with his arms stretched forward crossed, warding me away. I scramble backwards, a little miffed at his crossed arms, and rise.
“I see some things haven’t changed. You’re still as accident prone as you were growing up,” he observes and rubs the column of his muscular neck. Does he work out? I bet he does. It sure felt like some really well-defined muscles under me. The hidden athletic body under his Army uniform personifies endless sweaty hours at the gym. I imagine a live stream of Michael pumping iron, lifting, curling, lunging. Beads of sweat flowing down his happy trail. I fan myself.
“How’s Kyle?” His low gravelly voice interrupts my naughty thoughts. “He moved to the west coast, right? I haven’t talked to him in a few months.”
“Yeah. He’s managing an IT division for a large 500 company in Silicon Valley. Happy little camper.”
He chuckles, and I’m on the edge, watching his reaction as his Adam’s apple bobs. I want to suck—
“Fits him. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Sir,” a stout department store employee barges in, “would you please step
to the side so we can clean up this spill? It’s kinda in a heavy traffic area of the store.”
Michael nods, acknowledging his request, and ushers me away from the minor mishap I caused to unfold. I blush when the clerk looks at me, dismayed and unpleased at the mess I’ve left behind for him to clean up.
Instead of Let It Snow, it rained Holly.
Not the good impression I was hoping for. Maybe Michael will forget all about this and wipe the slate clean. A girl can dream, right? Who am I kidding? He’s probably got a list of my shenanigans to call upon from my past.
Chapter 3
“Goofy Holly on a good day is extremely dangerous. Oblivious Holly is lethal. Protect yourself. Get out of her way.” ~ Michael Barnes
I blink several times, trying to focus on what’s happening around me. The topsy-turvy, tiny pixie body in front of me is about the only thing that is the same with Holly. She’s no longer the gangly little munchkin with braces that tagged along with Kyle and me everywhere we went back in high school. She’s grown into a stunning albeit still clumsy woman, whom I find myself leaning in toward, intrigued by the woman she’s become.
The hint of peppermint floats easily into the air, surrounding us, and I find it difficult not to stare into her twinkling golden eyes. That is until she moves and her elbow almost connects with a vital part of my anatomy.
I react quickly, grabbing her to put some distance between us, but she has a mind of her own, knocking me square in the gut with her bony elbow. Hopefully, I’ll survive this encounter without any bruises or battle scars.
“Same ole Holly,” I get out between clenched teeth.
“Huh? What do you mean?” she asks, surely feigning innocence. She couldn’t possibly miss that she’s a walking, talking time bomb.
“It seems you can’t catch a break. The cloud of doom still follows you everywhere you go. If I recall correctly, it takes real skill to choke on air when you’re not eating anything, stumble going up a flight of stairs, or fall over absolutely nothing in your way. All, by the way, you have done right before my eyes.”
“Well, I never,” she huffs and puffs, offended. She can’t be real.
I continue, relentless in making my point. “C’mon. Admit it, Holly. You’re still a mega klutz.”
“What? Me?” Her voice comes out in a half-strangled, husky sound as she innocently stares back at me, pointing a finger between the valley of her chest.
The corners of my lip crack upwards at the adorable face she makes. “Yes, you, little one.”
“Whatever. You always were to uptight for your own good. For old times sake, I’ll leave it and let bygones be bygones. I didn’t fall, you know.” Her palms land on her slender waist as her frustration builds.
“Sure you didn’t. What would you call it, then?” I ask, pointing to the cleanup going on only a few feet away. The department store clerk oversees a janitor, ensuring the disposal of the mess she made.
“I call it an accident or a slight mishap, perhaps? I was trying to reach for that lovely snow globe on the higher shelf and lost my balance. You broke my fall.” She daintily shrugs her slender shoulder.
“I’m so happy I could be of service, little lady,” I say with a heavy hint of sarcasm. There’s just something about this pint-sized woman that has my insides turned inside out. Conceivably, it’s the familiarity of someone from my past, and the desire to form a connection. The need to be accepted instead of rejected swirls inside. Ella discarded me like day-old milk.
I glance toward the intricately designed winter wonderland display; the top shelf remains intact. She didn’t bring it down with her clumsiness. Thank Christ. Which one of the captivating winter globes was she interested in? There is an array of possibilities. The stocking-laced toasty fireplace, or maybe it was the nativity scene. I watch her bite down, tugging nervously on her upper lip, her mind somewhere other than here at the moment, deep in thought. Without thinking, I reach for her chin, and she releases the intense vise that caused a slightly puckered lip. Instant desire flares, and I have an overwhelming need to taste her. To kiss those pouty lips.
She’s caught in the intensity of the moment. I watch as her pupils dilate when she realizes my intentions. She’s as affected as I am. I lower my lips, staring intently to make sure she wants this as much as I do. Nobody else exists but the two of us and the surmounting need to scratch an undeniable itch.
“Excuse me, sir, but I need you to come with me. My manager wants an accident report filed, and I have a few questions.”
The moment we shared ends, and I’m furious at myself for getting caught up. I don’t know what came over me. Holly quickly steps back and stumbles. I catch her elbows to steady the adorable, clumsy woman.
“I’ll have your jacket mended,” she adds, looking at the tear. Her damn teeth fidget with her lips.
“I’m sure I can afford to have it repaired.”
“I caused it. Therefore, I’m responsible. Pretty simple. Stop giving me a hard time and let me have it. Please.”
I shrug out of the suit jacket and hand it over to the stubborn little female. Fuck, what else can I do?
“Here’s my business card. Give me a call when you are done with it, and maybe we can meet up for coffee or somewhere non-lethal,” I playfully joke.
“Okay, Michael. It was good to see you again. I’ll be seeing you soon.” She lifts my jacket and waves.
“Likewise, Holly. Take care.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Yeah, sure. Happy Holidays.”
I’m caught up watching her walk away, hips swaying with each step she takes, distancing her from me. There’s just something about Holly that has me wanting to spend more time with her. She turns and sees me staring and waves, bumping into a poor unknowing bystander along the way. A genuine laugh escapes me. It feels good, almost natural. I feel lighter. Even with the whirlwind, chaotic mess, she brought laughter into my drab world.
The store clerk motions me forward, and I follow with a bounce in my step, wondering when I’ll see Holly the mega klutz again.
Chapter 4
“Don’t worry, just breathe. If it’s meant to be, it will find a way to happen. Especially during the Christmas season. A time of wonder and miracles. If you can’t get a certain someone off your mind, make a wish, and it will come true. Because your mind always knows what your heart is thinking.” ~ Holly Edwards
I mumble to myself as I stroll down the busy streets of the capital, “I hope I make it there in time before his office closes. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?” I hurry past the pedestrians, dodging in and out.
It was a rough day in kindergarten. Yes, those five-year-olds can test the patience of a saint. Mine almost broke in two.
First, Simon came up to me with glue smudged across his little mouth, holding his bottle of Elmer’s in one hand, and told me his belly was hurting during free time. I thought I was going to lose the contents of my stomach. The stinker had eaten his bottle of glue. Ugh! Not to mention we’d just come back from lunch. Dessert à la glue.
The next mishap began when Jennifer and Petra started chasing each other with scissors. I knew this day would go down in history as an epic wacko day. The kind you never want to do over because it’s taken every ounce of energy to maintain sanity. Let’s just say, nap time came early. Thanks to the powers that be for winter break, or I might need to find my sanity.
As I continue the fast pace I’ve set hoping to make it to Michael’s office before he leaves, my left heel catches a hole in the sidewalk. I tumble down to the unforgiving cement ground, freshly tailored, pressed jacket and all. Could this day get any worse?
“Here, little lady. Let me help you,” a gentle elderly voice speaks as a hand reaches down to take the plastic-covered jacket from me.
Righting myself, I notice that my heel is miraculously still intact. Thank goodness for small miracles.
“Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, my dear. You might w
ant to slow it down a bit. Stop and smell the roses, and don’t stay so caught up in your head. Next time, you might get hurt,” she offers a piece of advice. The sweet expression on her face gives me pause. She reminds me of my mother, whom I lost years ago. A comfort and warmth spreads through my system, and I reach out to take the jacket from the finely dressed, salt and pepper-haired woman.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you again for your help. I’m in a hurry to get somewhere, and I don’t want to be late. But you’re right. I need to get my head out of the clouds, or something bad could happen.”
“Yes, it could. Spread the cheer, ladybug. But make sure to watch where you’re going.” She pats my shoulder and winks. “You have a Merry Christmas, Holly,” the woman comments and turns, walking away, getting lost in the crowd.
The warmth from the sweet-spirited older woman spreads through my chest and lands smack-dab on my face.
Boom it hits me. The air around me thins with unease. How’d she know my name? Arching my body upward, I scan the congested pavement filled with passerby shoppers carrying packages and bags. Along with businessmen and women hustling to and from work.
The wind gusts, reminding me of the jacket hanging over my arms, and I notice my school name tag bobbing in the breeze. And just like that, my silly question is answered. Of course, my badge.
I rush down the street, a little less hurried now. I needed a reminder of what life is all about, what the season brings and what it means to me.
When I turn the corner onto 12th Street, a massive office building looms across the road. Glass windows decorate the entire building. A grin pushes my cheeks full from all the Christmas lights and decorations garnishing the structure. I muffle a strangled laugh. I’m sure Michael just loves that. Mr. Grinch.
