by Starla Night
Twinkling candles in tinsel-strewn glass made the long empty tables look festive and romantic.
The white blond dragon shifter approached with a garment bag. “Now that the decorations are complete, Peridot asked me to give this to you.”
She took the garment bag with curiosity. Unzipping revealed gorgeous cranberry-red velvet. “Thank you. Where can I change?”
He assembled a folding screen at the back of the room. On the other side of the screen, he continued his questions. “Your guests will arrive soon. How many cookies are we allowed?”
She zipped the smoothed velvet. The embroidered bodice and flared waist encased her perfectly. “I would think at least a few.”
“I have no cookies to exchange.”
“Oh, that’s fine.” She eased on the velvet slippers.
“How many dragons can attend for these cookies?”
“The more the merrier.”
“If all the dragons attend, they will not have enough cookies.”
“You can buy extras.” She stuffed the smudged dress into the garment bag, hung it on the screen, and walked around to the other side to face him. “It’s a donation exchange.”
“But everyone is curious about these ‘addictive,’ ‘uncontrollably edible’ snacks. There will be no extras to buy.”
Aw. How sweet.
“Don’t worry. I’ve never attended a Christmas party where we ran out of cookies. And if we did, I’m sure the people who exchanged would share their bounty. Sharing is the true spirit of Christmas.”
Wait.
“That’s not the reason Peridot had to work today, is it?” she asked. “He couldn’t switch shifts because you had to ferry my friends and be here?”
“No. That is not the reason.” The male shook his head. “But this exchange is the reason the entire company has returned today, of all days, to visit their dorm rooms. Sard has ordered us to limit our intake. I must calculate the formula for rations. How many dragons will you allow to attend?”
“Ration? No. Invite everybody.”
His brows shot up. “Everybody?”
Only at Karmel’s cookie exchange would the first guests arrive with no cookies. How many dragon aliens were there in Peridot’s company? Running out of cookies would be a disaster.
And that was just like her.
Karmel embraced the disaster. “You’re all welcome.”
Dragon aliens poured into the room. Human guests and happy barking dogs arrived next. The noise level rose and the festivities started.
Everyone was awed and excited to board a real spaceship, and amazed to attend a party chock full of actual, hard-bodied, sexy dragon aliens. Instead of exchanging half the cookies, everyone cheerfully donated both trays to the hungry hordes.
“I forgot how many guests were coming so I brought extra bags of gingersnaps.” Monica flopped her reusable sack on a back counter. Her massive Saint Bernoodle sat well-behaved at her feet. She uncapped a festive, gingerbread man-decorated mug full of cookie spread. “Ooh, I like your holiday card display.”
Karmel had rescued the framed pictures. Her most meaningful memories.
“That’s so cute.” She pointed to a framed picture of Karmel’s first dog, a scruffy beagle, with a little paw print.
Oh.
“That’s my super-secret ideas.” Karmel unstuck the picture from the wall. “Wouldn’t it be cute to give out little cards with our customers’ paw prints on it?”
Monica frowned. “How would it work?”
Fear twinged in her belly.
Monica could shoot her down. She could say it was a dumb idea, not fitting for their pet grooming salon, or might upset customers. She could just look at Karmel in confusion, with the silent question, What were you thinking? on her lips. After last night, Monica had reason to wonder.
You are the most resilient person I know.
This was not her only chance.
She deserved to be heard.
And if Monica shot Karmel down, then Karmel would come up with a better idea later. Like always.
“We paint the paw with a safe, non-toxic acrylic like children’s finger paints, and then press it to the cardstock. It takes seconds to dry, we wash off the paw, and then, at the end of the appointment, we present the dried print to the customer as a thank you.”
Monica studied the card. “It’s faded.”
“It’s a little faded because I treasured it so much.”
“Hmm.”
“If we use a neutral color, like black, our customers can receive the keepsake with no specific holiday connotations. We could pre-print the cards with ‘Happy New Year from our family to yours.’ Or something about welcoming the New Year with a fluffy new coat.”
Monica smiled. “And we print the salon information on the back.” She smiled at Karmel. “I like it!”
Monica’s Saint Bernoodle, Princess, woofed.
Yes!
“I’ll entrust you with the project next year.” Monica replaced the card in the frame. “You know, our salon has been doing really well since you joined us. I’ve been thinking about expanding to a second location. You’ve always shown great drive and dedication, staying late for last-minute appointments, or coming up with new ideas to promote us. While the primary salon is repaired, would you be interested in taking the lead on opening this new location?”
Her world tilted. Karmel’s heart swelled in her chest. Tears prickled the backs of her eyes. “Yes! I would love that!”
“Great. We’ll talk more in the new year.” Monica picked up her cookie spread, dipped in a gingersnap, and crunched it. A smile of rapture filled her face. “Mm. This takes me back.”
Karmel scooped up her own serving. Spicy sweetness tantalized her mouth. “Yum.”
“My nana used to make this every Christmas. I cried when I found her old recipe tucked into the back of a shoe box.”
“This cookie is also delicious?” a deep male voice asked behind Karmel.
They had an audience of attractive males.
“Find out for yourselves.” Karmel stepped out of the way.
The dragons descended on the snaps and dip, crunching and commenting with pleasure.
Monica tossed Karmel a grin. “Thanks again for having this party and inviting me. I still don’t know how you got it together. I’m sure you’ll pull off a new salon opening with a snap.”
Princess woofed in agreement.
She patted her pup.
Karmel wished her well and mingled with the crowds.
Yes, yes, yes!
She’d been brave and tried hard. The resilience Peridot saw had opened a new door. She’d reminded Monica of a happy Christmas memory from her past.
And, if the sight of the cookies disappearing at a rapid rate into the mouths of the attractive dragons were any sign, she’d given them their first happy Christmas memory.
The first of many.
And it was all because of Peridot.
Another twinge of uncertainty filled her belly.
They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. She’d been resentful for abandoning her at the critical time. The same way she’d felt about her dad throughout her childhood and about her nonchalant, Christmas-whatever siblings as an adult.
Now, looking across the room of happy people in festive holiday sweaters, new suits, nice dresses, and silly holiday earrings, the memories folded into a new realization.
It all came down to her. She could’ve organized her friends before now. And she could do this again.
Herself.
It didn’t have to be perfect the first time. The decorations didn’t have to be Pinterest-worthy. They might run out of cookies before the end of the party. That was okay. Everyone — and even she — was having a great time.
Rose Pudge, the fluffy Corgi, sat in front of Karmel and panted with her tongue out.
“Hello, good pup.” Karmel straightened her red stripe bow. “You’re looking clean and festive this morning.”
�
�Misses Karmel!” Olivia skipped up to her and hugged Rose Pudge. Behind her came a reed-thin woman and a graying gentleman. “These are my parents. They want to talk to you.”
Uh oh.
“Nice to meet you.” Karmel smoothed her velvet gown, extremely aware that she had personally driven their mother-in-law to psychosis. “Er, I’m glad you could come.”
The wife pressed a delicate hand to her chest. “I’m glad you still hosted this exchange. My mother-in-law burned down your apartment and vandalized your place of business. I have no words.”
Her husband nodded sagely. “No words.”
“She always competed with her children and tried to take credit. Ray’s graduation was a circus. I won’t even mention our wedding. Then Olivia was born—thanks to her, don’t you know? When we rescued Rose Pudge, she fixated on our dog.”
“Utter fixation.”
“I understand insurance will cover her damages and my mother-in-law will be on her own for any civil suit. But as proud rescue owners, we wanted to give you this token of our support.”
The husband produced a large cheque. “A token of our sincere support.”
Karmel took it with shaking hands. “Thank you. This is so…”
Her brain blinked, and she realized, like at dinner the previous night, there were a few extra zeroes.
“… so, so, so generous.”
“On behalf of Rose Pudge and Olivia.” The wife took Karmel’s hand. Her fingers were long and smooth. “May all rescues find their forever homes this holiday season.”
Her throat tightened. “Yes. Thank you.”
The husband shook her hand as well.
Olivia finished feeding her pup a white chocolate-covered dog bone. She waved goodbye and skipped after her parents. Rose Pudge waddled after.
Karmel pinched the donation tight. That was generosity. The family had overcome real adversity to be together this holiday season. That was—
“—a mistake.” A dragon bowed low to Sard Carnelian. “Another quarter of Peridot’s intended cargo has just arrived at our distribution center. The final quarter will arrive at the end of the week. He is not far. We should call him back.”
“No.” Sard Carnelian crossed beefy arms over his massive chest. With his bald head and intimidating silver piercings, he looked more like a dangerous gangster than like a businessman. “I won’t waste the fuel.”
“But someone must make a second trip.”
“I’ll send him again as soon as he gets back.”
The dragon bowed lower. “Next year, please extend the December shipping schedule based on my research.”
“What research?”
“Human production is delayed during these winter holidays. Perhaps dragons could rest too?”
“I have already given the dragons two days off.”
“Some have requested you reinstate the weekend.”
“We have production targets! No human holiday will interfere with remaining the number one company outside Draconis!”
Karmel realized she was crunching the generous donation. She smoothed it and struggled to calm her fury. Channel Peridot. Be cool.
She couldn’t chew out the boss of her new love. He’d let her homeless self crash in Peridot’s dorm and rent this spaceship—and dragon help—for free.
But she couldn’t help muttering as she passed by, “Bah humbug!”
Sard wheeled to face her. “What did you say?”
Double uh oh.
She quickened her pace to the donations basket.
“You there. Peridot’s mate.” Sard seemed to wrack his brain for her name. “Karmel!”
She slowed to a stop and turned.
The surrounding conversation died. Cheery music jingled hollowly from her phone. Everyone watched the massive shifter stalk her.
She drew herself up and braced. “Yes?”
Red threads in his eyes gleamed. “I asked, What did you say?”
“I said …” She swallowed. She deserved happiness. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’s not very nice of you to have sent Peridot away, especially if you could have delayed. Christmas is a family holiday. It’s a time of peace on earth and goodwill for all.”
“Yes, yes. I know of this ‘Christmas spirit.’”
She snorted.
His red eyes grew darker. “Why do you snort?”
“Because if you really knew the Christmas spirit, you’d be more generous with your men.”
“I am stunningly generous.”
“Oh, no. Huh uh. If you were stunningly generous, you’d give your employees two extra days off instead of switching out the weekend. You’d throw your own holiday party without rationing the snacks. And you’d bring Peridot back to spend his first Christmas with his new girlfriend.” She thumped her chest. “That’s the Christmas spirit.”
Slow clapping filled the room with applause.
Oops. She hadn’t meant to call out Peridot’s boss publicly. Karmel wanted to hide, but she held her ground.
The powerful dragon shifter showed his sharp fangs. “Refusing work is no way to run a business.”
“That’s why I said, ‘bah humbug.’”
His eyes widened. He jabbed his thick index finger in the air. “That. There. What you said. Sheep’s humming bugs.”
“What?”
“Baaaahhh humming bugs. For some reason, it means I lack three Christmas spirits.”
“Oh. Yeah, you do. It’s in A Christmas Carol,” she said. “Peridot can explain. You should summon him back.”
“I know this story,” the male replied snidely. “A businessman suffers insomnia. Hallucinations lead to dementia that ruins his business.”
Again, the dragon alien perspective momentarily stunned Karmel.
She recovered quickly. “That ‘dementia’ is called ‘charity.’ And it made Scrooge’s life more fulfilled. Coming together as a community is the cornerstone of Christmas.”
His eyes narrowed. “If true, this ‘Christmas spirit’ is actually ‘Christmas insanity.’”
“That’s why it’s seasonal. The effects are short-lived.”
“Hmm.” He regarded the silent dragons and humans. “You all wish for extra days off? Truly?”
Hesitant nods multiplied into enthusiastic assent.
“And don’t send anyone on long business trips,” she said. “Bring Peridot home.”
He conveyed his orders into his mini phone. The dragons celebrated, and the party resumed with chattering of how they would spend their new days off—and where they would acquire more cookies.
Sard’s voice dropped to Karmel’s ear. “Peridot has already reached intergalactic accelerations. Reversing direction will take time. He will not be home for Christmas.”
Disappointment lanced her.
But having him for Boxing Day was better than not having him.
How would he feel when he got back?
Because of how they’d parted, he probably felt sad. Worried. Unappreciated.
Alone.
What if he closed up again? What if her judgment had hurt him as deeply as his ex’s rejection?
The moment he got back, she would show him just how appreciated he really was. Karmel vowed with her full heart.
If he would let her.
Chapter Thirteen
Peridot flew from the cargo ship to the Carnelian spaceship with dread.
He’d heard from the other dragons that Karmel’s party had gone well and she’d seemed happy. She’d even made a brief speech and convinced Sard to close the offices.
Unheard of.
But she was the engineer of his sudden return to Earth. Christmas was a time of miracles. Karmel had created both.
The volume and variety of sweet cookie had pleased everyone.
“You have adjusted to Earth and chosen a fierce mate,” Sard had told him during their private communication. “Your family should be proud.”
A lump had silenced Peridot. He’d nodded instead.
<
br /> He hadn’t been able to confess that Karmel was reconsidering being his mate.
Her angry resignation had matched his ex-fiancée’s during the final ultimatum. Star Sapphire had asked him to break his commitments. So had Karmel. He had refused.
And he had missed Karmel’s cookie exchange.
But, so help him, he would not miss Christmas.
Peridot burned hot into orbit and ejected himself as soon as he reached atmosphere. The ship ran properly on autopilot. He raced the planet rotation to fly into Karmel’s arms on Christmas Day.
And he braced himself for her reception.
There, the tip of North America. Oregon. Portland.
Sard’s ship.
The dorm hall. His door.
A light was still on. He deactivated the lock and entered. The room was the size of Karmel’s former bedroom. She was lying in her red velvet dress on his slide-out bunk bed, eyes closed and mouth open. In a corner, she’d positioned the small Douglas fir in a five-gallon bucket. Unopened packages rested against the container.
His chest ached.
This cramped, undecorated room had none of her brightness. And she had been so thrilled about this holiday, but she had delayed her rituals for him.
This would not happen again. Regardless of the consequences, he would make her wish to spend Christmas together come true.
If he remained by her side.
He dropped to the bunk beside her and stroked her cheek. “Karmel.”
“Um?” She licked her lips and stretched. Her yawn morphed into a sleepy smile. “Peridot.”
His heart squeezed again. “Yes.”
“What time is it?” She squinted at his second Rolex. “Oh. Wow. You made it. Sard said you wouldn’t.”
His clock said they had fifteen minutes left of the holiday. “I won’t miss it again.”
“You better not.” She rested her feet on the floor. “You missed a great party.”
“I heard.” The glowing reviews had pinched. “My coworkers want to repeat this tradition.”
“And you better be there.” She poked him in the chest.
He caught her hand. Holding her delicate fingers in his, he vowed. “I will.”
Her sleepy enthusiasm turned sober. “That’s not what I wanted to say.”
