Gnome For The Holidays

by Jennifer Zane

  By the time Cindy handed me a glass of white wine, I hadn't come up with any ideas. The gift was about half the size of a shoe box and wasn't too heavy. I even tried shaking it. No luck. I, like everyone else, would have to wait and see. Thankfully, the gifts were anonymous. No one would know it—whatever it was—came from me.

  By the time we'd piled around the family room on couches, chairs pulled from the kitchen and a number of us comfortably seated on the carpeted floor, I had just started my second glass of wine. Usually I had no problems with just two glasses, but all of a sudden I felt lightheaded, hot all over and my stomach felt all fluttery as if butterflies, no maybe a cave full of bats, were trying to escape.

  Or, it could have been from the surprise at seeing Sam walk in with Cindy, chatting about something before finding spots around the room for themselves.

  Oh, he looked good. Just as I'd remembered, although his light hair was a little longer. My fingers twitched at the memory of how silky soft it had felt. He was tall, over six feet, broad shoulders beneath a dark button-up shirt. Strong jaw, blue eyes that somehow had the ability to not only look at you, but see you. His nose had a slight bump in it, character, I thought, from some youthful roughhousing incident. He'd told me he'd played hockey on an adult recreational league at the fairgrounds, so it could have occurred more recently. However it had happened, it made him look very sexy.

  Everything about him screamed sexy, as if testosterone seeped from his pores.

  He hadn't seen me yet. What was I going to do when he did? It was possible I might go up in flames, spontaneously combust if he touched me. The chemistry had been that intense. Would it—could it—be like that again?

  Doubtful, considering I sat, sprawled out on the floor in my socks. I'd envisioned a different scenario, something showing a little more skin, something a little sexier. But sexy didn't work when it was below zero unless you were already naked and under flannel sheets and a down comforter. Which I most definitely was not.

  The woman next to me, Caren, a fellow co-worker who was about six months pregnant with twins, asked me about my plans for the New Year. As I answered, Rob brought about a bowl from which we drew numbers. I pulled a twelve, pregnant lady drew seventeen.

  The present! What if Sam picked Goldie's present? I wanted to jump up, grab the red wrapped gift off the pile and run for the hills. “Shit,” I mumbled to myself.

  “What was that?” Caren asked, shifting uncomfortably. I'd asked if she wanted to sit on the couch instead, but she told me the floor was actually better on her back.

  I smiled broadly at her and apologized for my slip, hopefully she didn't pick up that I was so flustered.

  What was I going to say to Sam when he finally noticed me? We'd left things so open, so casual, that he'd probably just say hello and move on. It had just been a kiss, albeit a steamy one with lots of tongue in an elevator we had all to ourselves. His hands had roamed down my back to my butt and held me squarely against his long, lean torso. And other things.

  It had just been a kiss. Just a kiss. Then why was I all warm in places that had long ago cooled off? Frozen over like Montana in the winter, more like it.

  “Number one,” Rob announced, starting the gift exchange.

  A man, mid-forties who I'd never met before, stood up and picked a gift bag from the pile. A package of spiced nuts.

  Number two was a woman from Accounting. Her box held a Dilbert mug. She chose to keep her gift instead of trading with the spiced nuts man.

  I darted a look at Sam. He was looking straight at me. His eyes were even bluer than I remembered and when he smiled…had he always had a dimple? He lifted one eyebrow in an odd sort of greeting, but then the group was laughing at some crude joke about a man and his nuts.

  My heart pounded in my ears, my blood pressure had to be close to stroke point. Yup, there was still chemistry. No other man had made me feel this way. Overwhelmed, confused, crazy. Horny.

  And so it went, the next three people opening their gifts and keeping what they'd opened. Number six traded an inflatable trash can, which I wasn't even sure what that was, for the Dilbert mug. So, number two was now taking home a trash can.

  I chatted with Caren, making sure she was still comfortable on the floor. She looked a bit like a beached whale, and I felt a little sorry for her. But my eyes kept wandering to Sam, who, every time, was looking at me. Even as he took a sip of his beer and talked to the guy next to him, he watched me. His gaze alone did things to my lady parts I'd all but forgotten about.

  Hopefully the gift I opened would be a portable fan. I took another sip of my wine hoping to cool me off.

  Some humorous gifts were opened, a bottle of self-tanning lotion, a pair of socks with little Santas on them, a travel toothbrush, a box of brownie mix. Odd items, but it made the exchange fun.

  It was my turn. Goldie's box was still there screaming: Open Me! It was only a matter of time before the big reveal. Being number twelve, knowing Caren was seventeen and Sam hadn't gone yet, the chance of him picking my box was becoming even greater.

  I went for the big, lumpy package that was horrendously wrapped. It was heavy and bulky and I lugged it back to my spot on the carpet.

  “Wait, please,” Cindy told me from her seat on the sofa. She called out for her son Charlie and his friend Zach. They ran into the room like herding elephants, two boys in bright pajama pants and sweatshirts who bounced around like they'd had ice cream and cookies all night. One wore a Santa hat on his head, the top bent down so the white fluff ball at the top touched his ear. “Zach, Emma's opening your gift.”

  “It was supposed to be a surprise!” he said. He was a cute boy, dark hair, big smile with a missing tooth, somewhere around seven or eight.

  “Sorry,” Cindy said kindly. “But you wanted to watch—and you'll pick last. Everyone, this is my son Charlie and his friend Zach West. They're having a sleepover.”

  Once I heard the name, I realized that Zach was Goldie's grandson. Small world. No, make that small town. The boys sprawled out on the floor to watch. Cindy nodded to me to open it.

  The wrapping job definitely matched the age of the giver. I ripped at the paper, covered in bright green, red and white plaid and discovered a ceramic garden gnome. About a foot tall, it had a red pointed hat, white beard and a blue jacket. Huh.

  I glanced automatically at Sam, who had a big grin on his face. Everyone around me was commenting on the unusual present, although the toenail clippers Number Nine currently had were equally strange.

  “You get to keep him for the weekend! That's the gift,” Zach said earnestly, seemingly thrilled with his present. “But I get him back on Monday,” he added, as if I was planning on keeping it forever.

  Wow. I didn't know what to say. A loaner gnome.

  Cindy reminded me, “Or you can trade with someone else.”

  Zach and Charlie were both looking at me with that puppy dog look little boys made, half eagerness and half cluelessness.

  “Oh, no. I wouldn't trade him for anything,” I replied, not wanting to be the one to hurt an eight year old's feelings. “Until Monday,” I added, much to Zach's obvious relief.

  The boys gave each other high fives. “His name's George,” Zach told me.

  I nodded as number thirteen was called, another present open and traded. Sam stood up at number sixteen and went over to the pile of last three gifts to take his turn.

  He took a moment to consider. Goldie's gift box, a blue and silver Menorah wrapped package that was clearly a DVD and a red gift bag with a furry Santa on the side. Pick the DVD, I shouted in my head. But that would mean either Zach, the eight year old, or the very, very pregnant lady would end up with a sex toy present. What could be worse? It was a no-win situation. I rubbed my forehead with my hand, dread filling me, all thoughts of lust and ignited libido gone.

  As I sat there, hugging George the Gnome to me, I watched Sam pick up Goldie's gift. My gift. By looking at the box, you wouldn't know it had come from Gold
ie's. No labels, no signature ribbon. It was as obscure as any other box from the pile. More obscure than the still-wrapped DVD.

  From my vantage point on the floor, Sam looked larger than life. Taller, bigger, oh, so much better than ever. When he walked by to take his seat carrying the small package, a waft of his scent drifted on the air and I was immediately taken back to that elevator, the same scent circling around me, filling my senses with dark nights, wood smoke and pure, sexy male.

  His large hands worked the ribbon of the box, ripped the paper and opened the lid. For a second he just looked inside, staring.

  I held my breath. What was it? What did he see? What had Goldie put in there? Should I grab George and duck out now? Move to Florida?

  Sam reached into the box and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Silver, heavy duty handcuffs.

  “Holy shit,” I mumbled.

  Caren responded as she rubbed her lower back, “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

  I couldn't look at her. My gaze was locked on Sam, one of the cuffs dangling from a finger, the Christmas lights from the tree reflected in the shiny metal. He was staring directly at me as if he knew they were my contribution to the exchange. An eyebrow went up. He knew! I licked my lips and swallowed, internally panicking.

  “Cool!” Zach and Charlie said at the same time.

  A couple of people chuckled around me, but that was it. No one stood up and screamed, “Sex toy!”

  “What are you going to do with those?” Charlie asked Sam.

  He turned and smiled at the boy and replied, his voice as casual as can be, “Cops and robbers.”

  I took a deep breath just imagining what he would do with someone who was bad.

  “Cool,” the boys repeated.

  And that was it. It was Caren's turn, but she couldn't get up to make her pick. A man, who I assumed was her husband, picked the Santa bag and brought it over to her. Separating the tissue, she pulled out a package of bath salts, shower gel and lotion. For someone who could barely move, this was a good gift. I wasn't surprised when she didn't trade.

  Last up was Zach, who grabbed the final gift with childlike exuberance. As I'd expected, it was a DVD. Transformers. Zach and Bobby were thrilled with the gift, giving each other high fives at their score. I'd been worried the boys would have gotten Steel Magnolias and wanted to trade it for the handcuffs. Although, it would be hilarious if the gift Goldie picked out for me ended up with her grandson.

  With the gift exchange over, I helped Caren to her feet as she complained of having to pee for the third time since she got there. She toddled off as everyone went to grab snacks from the dining room or refill their drinks. I grabbed George off the floor and headed toward the den to put the gnome with my coat so I didn't forget it. In the hall, I turned the corner and ran smack into Sam. Sam's hard chest, really.

  “Oh,” I exclaimed. His body was as rock solid as I'd remembered and his scent swirled around me, making me dizzy. And my nipples got hard. Clearly they remembered him, too. I was in big trouble.

  “Hi,” Sam said, his voice deep and dark.

  “Hi,” I replied, smiling up at him. My breath was ragged, as if I'd run a mile. My heart rate, too. But there Sam stood, calm as can be. He leaned in close and I held my breath. The heat from his body warmed me, even with an inch of space between us. His head lowered to hover just above my right ear. “God, you smell good,” he whispered.

  I gave a little moan of pleasure and felt a shiver race down my spine. It was a little unsettling the reaction I had to this man. This was way more than chemistry. This was geology too, because I could have sworn I felt the earth move.

  It couldn't be helped, my hand, and how it moved all on its own to the center of Sam's chest. There, I felt his heart pound against my palm. Not so unaffected, after all.

  Sam lifted his head enough to look me in the eye. They were a pale blue, like ice. He had a square jaw, strong forehead and incredible lips. Most men might not classify their lips as incredible, but the way they'd kissed me? Incredible.

  “You brought a great gift to the party. If I hadn't picked it, I would have traded for the handcuffs in a heartbeat. Knowing they came from you.” The last Sam said on a very teasing, flirting tone.

  “Oh, no. The handcuffs were Goldie's idea, not mine. I didn't know what was in there.” I didn't want to ask how he knew the handcuffs had been my gift. ESP?

  “Really?” he asked, definitely surprised. “Goldie, as in Goldilocks? Well, well, Miss Hardy. You have many secrets. I'd be love to uncover more of them.” Before I could respond, he continued. “I've missed you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I've been around.”

  “I haven't. Just got back on Tuesday. Fargo.”

  I cringed. Not that I had anything against the lovely city of Fargo, North Dakota, but if there was one place on earth colder than Bozeman, Montana, that would be Fargo. In December, Christmas lights only went so far to distract you from having your ass frozen off.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Training. Six weeks of training for my new job. The client's there and they wanted me on site until I learned the ropes.” He lifted his hand and tucked my hair behind my ear. I unconsciously tilted my head into his palm. It was warm and big and comforting.

  He cupped the side of my face and just gazed at me before lowering his mouth toward mine.

  “Gross!”

  We both jumped back like teenagers caught by a parent. We looked down at the Charlie and Zach, Zach mimicking sticking his finger down his throat.

  “You don't really want to kiss, do you?” Charlie asked, disgusted.

  Sam chuckled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping.”

  “Why?” Zach wanted to know. “Ty kisses Mom all the time and she's not even hurt.”

  I remembered Goldie saying her daughter-in-law, Jane, was remarrying. Hopefully that man was Ty.

  Sam just smiled at the boys, clearly realizing sometimes the best way to answer was to not say anything. “What can we do for you guys?”

  “Dude, can we try out those handcuffs?” Two eager faces looked up at Sam.

  “Sure, but there's a price.”

  I just stood there watching this exchange, amused.

  The boys grumbled, but eager enough for the handcuffs to listen to the price.

  “I'll let you try out the handcuffs if I can kiss the girl.” He pointed up. “Mistletoe.” There, hanging above our heads in the doorway to the den, was a plastic piece of greenery.

  The boys grumbled more.

  “You can cover your eyes,” Sam added.

  Zach and Charlie looked at each other, then turned back to Sam and said together, “Deal.”

  Sam started turning toward me but stopped when Zach yelled, “Wait!”

  I swear I saw Sam's shoulders droop. “Yes?”

  “George can't see the kissing either.” Zach yanked the Santa cap off his head and stuffed it onto George the gnome, who was sticking out from under my arm. It was a little big, but it did the job. It was a good fit, covering the pointy gnome hat and George's entire head. George wouldn't be able to see any gross smooching now. “There,” Zach said, obviously satisfied.

  Then they slapped their hands over their eyes as if the Ark of the Covenant was in front of them.

  Without any amount of gentleness, Sam snaked an arm around my waist, pulled me into him and kissed me. His tasted like cinnamon breath mint and beer. This wasn't a kiss to make-it-all-better. This was a kiss to get-it-on.

  There I stood, stunned by the feel of Sam's lips, his tongue tangling with mine, a ceramic garden gnome wedged under one arm. I melted, right then and there. Oh, how I missed this. Him. I hadn't been wrong. That night, there had been something.

  “Are you done yet?” Charlie asked.

  Sam pulled back long enough to catch his breath. “No.”

  He kissed me again, this time gentler, softer. Better.

  Finally, he lifted his head. Our eyes met and I read quite a bit in
his gaze. It was all good. And not for little boys.

  “You can uncover your eyes now.”

  They looked completely relieved it was over, as if they'd dodged a really gross bullet.

  Sam handed over the handcuffs to Zach. “Cool,” he replied. Sliding one end open, he looked at Sam. “Give me your wrist.”

  Sam quirked an eyebrow. “You want to put it on me?”

  “Sure, it's no fun doing it to yourself.”

  Shrugging, Sam said, “Okay.” He stuck his arm out. With a snick, the cuff dangled from his wrist.

  “Now you.” Charlie pointed at me.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you're the bad guy.”

  Sam was trying not to laugh. “Have you been bad?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes at him, knowing the boys didn't understand the underlying inappropriateness of his question. “I can be.”

  Heat flared in Sam's eyes.

  Oh, boy.

  Another snick and we were linked together by a pair of very industrial, very police-like handcuffs.

  I gave a gentle yank on my wrist and it pulled Sam's arm toward me.

  “Awesome,” Charlie said. Both boys were staring at our joined wrists as if it was the most amazing thing they'd ever seen.

  “Okay, you can undo us now,” I said. I wanted Sam to pick up where he left off and that didn't involve an underage audience. Or any audience for that matter. “Who has the key?”

  Zach looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at Zach. They both shrugged and turned to Sam. “We don't have it.”

  I looked to Sam. He paused. “I don't have it.”

  My mouth fell open. “You don't have the key?” I yanked on my wrist again thinking it would just come undone. “Where's the key?” I could hear the panic in my own words.