The Christmas Grinch

by Rebel Hart

  Nope, no way, Chris. Don’t even start. But...then again...It’s not like she can read my thoughts, and it is an awfully appealing fantasy...Entertaining it just a little couldn’t hurt, could it?

  I drifted off to sleep, letting my dirty thoughts take over. It was better than thinking about Christmas.

  9

  Hazel

  Punctuality was one of my biggest strengths, and when neglected - my biggest pet peeve. People who are late everywhere expect people to wait on them, and it’s a potential sign of narcissism in my opinion. Since Chris showed many other traits of narcissism, like his hatred for holiday celebrations, I could only assume he would be late again for our second meeting.

  I was not about to be the fool standing out in the cold waiting on him a second time. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. So, naturally I made a point to show up a full fifteen minutes late. Except when it came down to it, I found myself physically incapable of being that late to anything and ended up at our designated meeting spot only seven minutes late.

  Much to my surprise, Chris was already standing there, waiting for me.

  “Oh, I’m surprised to see you here already. But...I waited on you once. Seems only fair you had to wait on me this time.”

  “I thought you hated lateness,” he replied. “You went on and on about it last time. That was why I made a point to be early this time.”

  “You did?” I gaped, noticing his bright red nose and how he was shivering in his coat. I suddenly felt so guilty and wanted to apologize, but I figured this was his way of keeping me on my toes...always trying to change the rules and throw me off so he could get me all over again.

  “I know you have it in your head that I’m a heartless jerk, but you’re wrong, you know? I do pay attention and take other people’s feelings into consideration.”

  “You saying that is almost as surprising as showing up to find you here already,” I quipped as we climbed into a cab.

  “So...What kind of fresh hell do you plan on throwing me into this evening?”

  “The freshest of them all! You sir have the honor of accompanying me to one of my father’s Christmas tree farms to help us pick out our family tree!” I beamed with a dreamy exhale. “It’s one of the biggest nights of the season when they unveil their very best trees. There’s a whole party for it and everything.”

  “I take it the other gentlemen in your crew actually attend this one?”

  “Yes, this one is co-ed,” I told him. “But as far as you’re concerned, it’s all co-ed until we accomplish what I’m determined to accomplish. Of course, I can’t imagine us needing to do much more of this after tonight. If the Christmas tree farm can’t put you in the right spirits, you may be a lost cause.”

  “And what happens if you decide I am a lost cause? You give up? Publish your bad piece on me?”

  “Enough questions,” I huffed as we pulled into the gravel parking lot in front of the farm.

  My father’s tree farms had seemed like magical places to me ever since I was a little girl. Giant pines surrounded the gravel lot and the little dirt path that led down into the field where everything looked, smelled, and felt like a Christmas fairytale land.

  Twinkling lights hung all around as we walked to the main shop where a hot fire was smoking through the chimney. My family was waiting for us on the porch, having already helped themselves to hot chocolate and coffee.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Chris said immediately. “Hazel here seems to have trouble showing up on time.”

  I shot him a death glare while my family watched us both with confusion.

  “Nice to see you again, Chris,” my mother smiled. “I didn’t know you were joining us this evening.”

  “He seems to be tagging along with you everywhere these days,” Payton teased.

  “Oh so you’re the famous Mr. Palmer I’ve been hearing so much about!” My father stepped forward, offering a big handshake.

  “Don’t believe everything you’ve heard,” Chris winked. “Nice to meet you.”

  I stood in shock for a moment, watching him slip into small talk with the family - introducing himself to Tom and Josh. I couldn’t believe it. Was he actually being charming? From the looks of it, they obviously thought he was.

  “Alright team,” Dad announced, huddling us all together. “You know the drill. Well, everyone does but Josh and Chris. That’s just fine. My girls will show you how it’s done. Finding the perfect tree is serious business, you know.”

  “Sets the whole tone for Christmas day,” I nodded in agreement. “It can make or break your holiday.”

  I ignored the salty look Chris shot in my direction as Dad continued.

  “Split up and start scanning the selection. If you find a good one, use these to call the rest of us over to check it out,” he explained, handing out the traditional red and green whistles attached to lanyards to keep around our necks.

  We split off into pairs, each couple taking a whistle, and set off down different paths through the trees. Ever since Payton started bringing a new boy around for the holidays every year, I had succumbed to being the third wheel with mom and dad. I had to admit, for as much as I hated Chris, it was kind of nice being off with him instead of being the lame one tagging along with my parents.

  “You guys take the saying ‘all the bells and whistles’ to a whole new extreme,” Chris teased, holding up the whistle in his hand.

  I rolled my eyes. “When we walk out of this place with the best damn tree ever, you won’t be making fun.”

  Chris stopped just a few minutes later and pointed to a dumpy looking White Pine. “What about this one?”

  “God, no,” I scoffed, wrinkling my nose with disgust. “We would never settle for something like that. I prefer Blue Spruces, personally, but we usually go with a classic Fraser Fir.”

  “How can you tell the difference?”

  “You’ll learn,” I assured him. “The trick is to step back and look at it from every angle. There’s different criteria to take into account...branch density, then there’s the shape and color. And the scent!” I paused and took a big bunch of branches into my gloved hands, sucking in a big whiff of the glorious scent. “Then you have to check the trunk. It should be a little sticky. The fir’s needles should snap, while the pines should bend. Watch and learn.”

  I stopped at a hefty Douglas fir and grabbed one of the branches on the inside, dragging along it with my hand all the way to the tip. “See how some of the needles are falling off? This one’s no good.”

  “If you say so.”

  “It’s not about what I say...It’s about the perfect tree,” I shot back.

  “There’s no such thing as perfect anything.”

  “You’re just bitter.”

  “No, I’m a realist,” he argued. “And the great thing about that is I’m rarely disappointed, if ever.”

  “No wonder you don’t like Christmas,” I told him. “It’s like this wonderful window that opens once a year, when miracles can happen and dreams can come true...If you have the right attitude. If you’re open to accepting it all. Christmas doesn’t do much for you because you have low expectations, so you get what you’re expecting.”

  “Oh you think so?” he chuckled. “You seem to think you know a lot about me.”

  “Well, you don’t tell me much. So I’m left to my own devices and imagination to fill in the gaps. But you can help me out with that if you don’t like being misjudged.”

  “I’m really an open book,” he waved his hands in his pockets, spreading out his coat. “What is it you’d like to know?”

  “Hmm. For starters, how does your family celebrate Christmas? I was wondering if maybe that’s why you hate it so much. From what I’ve heard, you’re all very busy successful people. If none of you slow down to enjoy Christmas, it’d explain a lot.”

  “See, you’re wrong again,” he pointed his finger in the air. “Christmas is a huge affair in my family. My mother throws this
giant gala. It’s one of the most extravagant events this city ever sees throughout the year.”

  “Oh?” I tried to imagine a big Christmas ball with fancy dresses and cocktails. It was different than what I was used to, but sounded marvelous all the same. “That’s so fancy.”

  “In addition to being a realist, I am a pretty fancy guy,” he grinned.

  I wrinkled my brow at him. “You’re also in an oddly good mood tonight, I’m noticing. Not your usual grumpy old self. What’s gotten into you? Maybe all this Christmas conversion therapy I’m doing with you is starting to work after all.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe I’m just getting more comfortable around you. People are layered, you know. What you first see is not always all there is.”

  “That goes for both of us,” I snipped. “I can only imagine what kinds of assumptions you’ve made about me.”

  “There has been one rolling around in my mind,” he admitted.

  “Well? Let’s hear it.”

  He stopped and turned to face me. I was struck by his closeness and the sexy rasp of his voice in the cold. His cologne filled my nostrils, smelling even better than all the cedar and pine in the air.

  “Do you think maybe you’re so disappointed in how your behind the scenes look at the window display went...because you had such high expectations? You thought everything behind the show would be just as dazzling as the show itself, but it wasn’t. You saw it all for what it really was. Just a bunch of fancy lights and props. There’s really nothing magical about it.”

  I felt a sharp sting in my chest, but I was certain it wasn’t because he was right. He couldn’t be.

  “I was disappointed because I thought you would care for it as much as I did. That you understood the value of it in our city.” I stopped myself just before blurting out that he was the disappointment, not the display itself or anything that went into it.

  But for some reason, my bottom lip quivered. Maybe it was just from the cold, but all at once I felt like a raw nerve was exposed and it was making me emotional.

  “Hey! Look at that beauty!” Chris pointed suddenly.

  I turned around to see one of the most magnificent Blue Spruces the farm had ever produced. Sure, it wasn’t the family’s usual favorite, but it was mine. And we’d be hard pressed to find anything else there that compared.

  I snatched the whistle from his chest and leaned in to blow hard so the others could hear and come running. Our eyes locked as I signaled for them, leaving us too close and too caught up in each other's looks by the time the whistle fell back to his hard chest. We got lost there longer than we should have, and were still staring at each other when my family came running up.

  10

  Chris

  Hazel’s family came rushing in like a hoard of special ops military soldiers on a high priority mission. They each had their own methods of testing to see if the tree was up to their standards, which they set to performing straight away. It was a whirlwind to watch, but I was still caught up in the weirdness that happened between Hazel and me before they all showed up. Was I crazy...or did we just have a moment?

  Mr. Malone had the final say on the tree, which he decided he was in favor of. Soon it was chopped down and loaded into the back of his truck, but apparently the festivities were far from over.

  “Now the real fun begins,” Payton grinned as our group walked back down to the main cottage at the farm entryway.

  We filed inside to warm up by the fire with hot chocolate while peoples’ kids gathered at a table to make cutout paper snowflake chains and Christmas cards. Some food trucks set up along the main lot, serving an assortment of festive dishes like ham and gourmet focaccia. Lights were strung up all around with Christmas music softly drifting through the air, mixed in with all the spicy, sweet scents.

  More than taking the whole scene in, I found myself enraptured with Hazel taking it all in. Her eyes lit up with a familiar comfort and delight. She’d sigh contently every few minutes as she looked around, smiling ear to ear with her freckled rosey cheeks.

  Our bickering and small talk faded as we walked along the heated paths around the party, our shoulders brushing together every few steps. I told myself we were staying close together because it was cold. That was it, wasn’t it? But I became less certain the more her eyes focused on me.

  I had to admit, it was all starting to get to me. The music and magic in the air...the reflection of all the twinkling lights in her green eyes. The smell of cinnamon and chocolate as we sipped from the to-go cups in our hands. More than that, she was getting to me. For annoying as she seemed at first, a little more time and she was starting to become something else...something that was endearing more than irritating.

  By the time we circled back around to the cottage gift shop, chestnuts were roasting on the fire and eggnog was being served. I happily accepted two servings and pulled Hazel off into a corner.

  “I have a little something to make this even better,” I whispered, pulling a flask from my front coat pocket.

  Her eyes grew wide and mischievous. “Chris Palmer, you devil.” She held up her cup and waited for me to add a few dashes of whiskey to hers.

  “And did I just hear you say even better? As in, you think it’s already good...even without the alcohol?”

  I looked around with a grin. “It’s not bad. Or at least not as bad as I expected.”

  “See...you just trust me more often. I know what I’m doing. You may not be a lost cause after all.” She nudged my arm as she swung back and forth with a satisfied smile before taking a sip of her spiked eggnog. “Mmmmm, just what we needed. It’s good. And it’ll help us get into the next portion of events.”

  “There’s more?” I groaned, although I cared less with the warm whiskey rolling down my throat and the buzz of Hazel hanging around.

  “The games!” she shrieked, doing a little happy dance.

  “Games?” I cringed.

  She shuffled me outside where her family had already gathered with the other seasoned attendees. There was corn hole with red and green beanbags, a pie eating contest, and reindeer ring toss. And that was just what I could see being set up directly around us. There was even more going on further down the hill.

  “Pick your poison,” she waved across the scene. “But I should warn you...I get a little competitive.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” I chuckled. “Well, the last thing I want is to eat enough pie to make us sick. And corn hole feels too frat party-ish. I have no idea what the hell reindeer ring toss is, but why not. Let’s give it a go.”

  “Payton owes me five dollars,” she smirked. “She was positive you’d draw the line at games.”

  I was starting to realize I should have when we walked over to the designated area and saw people tying actual horns to their heads only for their partners to do their best at tossing rings onto them. I winced as I watched person after person get whacked in the face with a badly aimed ring.

  “Don’t worry. I’m an excellent shot,” she assured me.

  “Not as good as me,” her sister Margo warned.

  Payton appeared on my other side. “Oh boy. This should be interesting.”

  “Why do I feel like you know something I don’t?”

  She nodded towards her sisters. “They’re both competitive as hell, and when they go head to head...Watch out.”

  Margo’s husband, Tom, pulled me by the arm. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get this over with.”

  I swallowed hard and kneeled down for him to tie a ridiculous looking pair of horns on my head, complete with ribbons and bells. I saddled him with the same humiliating thing in return, then we took our places opposite from the feuding sisters, who were already glaring at each other like two bulls about to charge.

  “Start at the sound of the bell,” Mrs. Malone announced from the sidelines. “You’ll have five minutes. The reindeer with the most rings on their horns at the end, wins.”

  Hazel flashed me a somewhat frightening
determined look as she got into position. Next thing I knew, the bell dinged and the rings started flying. The first few hit me directly in the face then plopped to the ground.

  “You’re trying to get them on my horns, not knock me unconscious!” I shouted out.

  After a few more tries, I was loosened up enough to start bobbing and weaving to do my part in catching them on my horns. The first one that actually went on and stayed on sent us both into cheering applause for ourselves. That only set Margo off more, and the more determined she became...the more ferocious Hazel was.

  I was getting more into the nonsense than I cared to admit, with quite a few captured rings to show for it, when Hazel and Margo really took it to the next level. Their dad called out the final minute warning and all bets were off. It was looking like we might win until it got down to the final toss and...Bam!

  I braced myself too close to the ground, and Hazel aimed too low. The ring missed my antlers by a long shot and hit straight between my legs instead. I let out a blood curdling high-pitched croak and plopped down to the ground, clutching my aching throbbing crotch.

  “Chris!” Hazel screamed, running over to check on me. “Where does it hurt?” she asked frantically, feeling around my body. Her eyes trailed down to my hands, which she instinctively pushed out of the way to try and comfort the wounded area herself.

  My face twisted with surprise, as did everyone else’s, as she spread her palm out across my wounded member.

  “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” she panicked, throwing her hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean to…,” she trailed off and her cheeks turned bright red.

  I was in too much pain to care either way. Especially when Margo informed us that they won by default.

  “All your rings fell off when you hit the ground! There’s no real way to count how many you had. I’m certain we had more anyway.”

  “Like hell you did!” Hazel scowled, squaring off with her. “We had seven and you only had five!”