Just Add Mistletoe: Christmas in Gingerbread, Colorado

by Moore, Addison

  My stomach does an odd revolution, and as much as I try to tell myself the visual of Sabrina upchucking my cookies was the leading cause, the thought of Graham decorating her finger with bling makes my insides churn.

  I look to Holly who’s busy scowling at me.

  “Oh, who cares?” I hiss. “It’s a means to an end. They deserve each other, remember?”

  “Okay.” She tosses her hands in the air before unleashing herself from her apron. “Just remember you deserve someone, too.”

  Sabrina races out the door and into traffic. The sound of a car horn cuts through the silence.

  Holly shakes her head. “Wind her up and watch her go.”

  “Are you kidding?” I scramble to take off my own apron. “You and I are about to get front row seats.”

  I shout for Jenna to man the fort as I pull Holly by the wrist all the way there.

  Angelino’s is a quaint Italian restaurant with a pizza bar that lines the front as well as tables and booths in the back. It’s one of Gingerbread’s official fast casual restaurants that you can get in and out of pretty quickly if you just want to sneak a bite between batches of cookies baking in the oven. They have a popular sandwich counter that usually has a line out the door at lunchtime, and they’re our only hope for delivery in the evenings.

  Holly and I step inside and are immediately welcomed by the thick scent of garlic and roasted marinara as they permeate the air. I take a deep breath in through my nose and savor the scents as my stomach begins to growl.

  “There he is!” Holly gasps as she points to the back where a bewildered Graham Holiday tries to decode whatever Sabrina is pumping in his ear.

  “Ha! The look on his face is priceless!” I pull my sister into a booth near the front, affording us a full view of the soon-to-be lovelorn couple in the rear of the establishment.

  A waiter comes over with a basket of complimentary garlic breadsticks, and Holly quickly orders a large veggie pizza.

  I snap my fingers to get his attention before he leaves. “Throw on a slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple for me!”

  Holly waves me off. “You don’t throw on a slice once you order a whole pizza. Weirdo.” She ducks for a moment as Sabrina’s piercing laughter resonates through the place.

  “Sure you can.” My voice wavers as I say it. “That way you and Tom can have a pizza for dinner, and I won’t feel bad about cutting into it.” I glare over at the table in the back as the two of them laugh it up as if they were having the time of their lives. How dare they have so much fun, and right in front of my face! The whole idea was to invoke a serious dose of misery on both parties—or at least Graham.

  “Why are you shooting them dirty looks?” Holly pulls my hand over until I’m forced to look at her.

  “Because the point of this wasn’t to have them enjoying one another’s company. I wanted Sabrina to slowly kill Graham with her homicidal laughter, not have him join in on it.”

  Her mouth rounds out as she gives an awkward nod in their direction. “He’s coming this way!”

  Graham’s woodsy cologne arrives at the table long before he does, and I can’t help but inhale the warm scent and let it fill my lungs for a moment. I’ve always been a sucker for a clean-smelling man, just not this particular one.

  “Holly.” He nods to my sister. “Missy, can I speak with you alone for a minute?”

  “No,” I shoot back so fast it sounds like a reprimand. “I mean, we’ve only got a few minutes left on our lunch break, and we’re just starving to death.”

  I jam half a breadstick into my mouth and moan as if it were a decadent slice of cheesecake. But it’s not. It’s dry toast smeared with garlic salt, and it’s all I can do not to gag right in his face. It would serve him right after he all but enjoyed Sabrina’s company in my presence. As if him standing right in front of me isn’t vexing enough, he’s practically gloating over the fact he’s having a great time. No way am I going to let him haul me to the side to let me in on it either. I’ve got two eyes. I can see what’s going on here.

  Graham folds those enormous arms of his across his wide as a linebacker's chest. “Have it your way.” He tucks his pointy tail back between his legs and heads back to the redheaded demon waiting to greet him. I can’t help but scowl at the two of them as they pick up right where they left off—in Happyville.

  Holly makes a face. “Have what your way? You think he’s onto you?”

  “Who cares?” I pick the remainder of my breadstick apart as if I were readying a crumb trail to lead to the bakery. “What matters most is that the two beating hearts seated in that direction find their way to beating as one. I’ll be right there at their wedding, ready and willing to tackle anyone who objects.”

  “Aw!” Holly mocks me while looking destitute at the thought. The pizza arrive, and neither of us bothers digging in. “I can’t believe you’re really letting a prize like Graham Holiday go to waste to someone who doesn’t even eat pie.” She leans in. “She doesn’t eat PIE! What kind of a person is that?”

  I wrinkle my nose over at Sabrina a moment. “She’s subhuman. We both know that. But Graham doesn’t seem to mind.” I openly glare over at him as he nods into her ridiculousness. “I’m betting that whole pie thing isn’t a deal breaker to someone like him.” Graham is so rich he could hire someone to eat pie as he watches. In fact, I bet he compiles an entire list of the ridiculous ways he wastes his money.

  “It should be a deal breaker.” Holly pulls a slice off the platter, and the mozzarella strings itself right to her mouth. “Mmm,” she moans. “So good. Hey! If Graham and Sabrina get married, they should totally have Angelino’s cater their wedding. It’s where they had their first official date, after all. And, of course, we’ll provide the cake—for free.” She rolls her eyes because, face it, it’s pretty much a given.

  “I didn’t think about that one.” I spin my plate and watch my pizza turn upside down. “At that point, it will be a good riddance cake as well.” I steal another glance their way, and my appetite is no longer anywhere to be found. For whatever reason, Graham Holiday is invoking all sorts of emotions in me ever since he’s dropped back into Gingerbread, and I’m not too sure I like it.

  In fact, I know I don’t.

  Sabrina continues to cackle at Graham long after Holly and I box up our food.

  I guess I am a pretty decent matchmaker.

  After all, I’m still batting a thousand.

  Too bad it doesn’t feel half as good as I thought it would.

  * * *

  Saturday night, long after the bakery is closed—long after I’ve tuckered myself out trying to spy on my newfound next-door neighbor, I decide to get dressed and head back out into the cold, dark world. All of his lights are out, and he hasn’t been home since I picked up Noel. He didn’t mention he was going out. Although he did look a little haggard, handsomely so. It’s not fair that even in his slightly disheveled, frustrated-with-the-world state, he still looks as if he should be selling underwear in print ads high above Manhattan. Anyway, he went out. And the fact he’s out and I’m home makes me feel ten times more like the old maid Holly keeps telling me I am. So I do the only thing I can. I put Noel on a leash, bundle up, and head for the tree lot. Really, I have no business staying home nights, not nights in December anyway. Nick needs all the assistance he can get this time of year. And with Holly home helping Savanah with her homework, Dad breaking his back at the lumberyard all day—thus basically incapacitated by four o’clock, and a mother who wouldn’t be caught dead at the tree lot in general, I’m his only hope as far as the family goes. It’s just Nick and a couple of high school kids he’s hired working it on their own.

  The air is frosty as a snowman, yet the wind has thankfully died down. I’ve donned my warmest scarf and a ski jacket. And I’ve even put on a pair of doggie booties for Noel to wear so the snow doesn’t freeze her paws right off. The poor thing slips and slides her way out of the car as we head into the lot. I’ve got her bundl
ed up as well in a nifty little Christmas sweater I bought at the Bow-Wow-Tique next to Pet Stop. It’s red and garish with a picture of a cat smoking a cigar while poking its head through a wreath. It’s the epitome of an ugly sweater, and I love every last hideous stitch about it.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a deep voice calls from the front, and my mouth falls open as I find Graham headed this way with a Santa hat planted over his head.

  So this is where he went! Of course, he did. He’s always helped Nick this time of year, or he used to anyway. I guess there’s still some Gingerbread spirit left in Graham after all. Go figure.

  He pauses shy of me and moans at the sight of Noel. “What did you do to my poor dog?” He scoops her up and begins plucking off her boots.

  “That might be your dog, but that’s also my baby girl.” I run around snapping all the cute pink booties off the ground. “Hey, these things cost money. Some of us don’t have a tree in our living room that sprouts Benjamins, you know.”

  “I’ll have you know I have to work for them myself.” He plucks at Noel’s snug red sweater before abandoning the effort and shaking his head my way while placing her back on the ground. She starts sniffing around, jumping and chomping at the bit to run right to the reindeer. “Looks like someone misses her friends. Nick says they get along great. Let’s take her on a playdate, shall we?” He hands me the leash.

  I glance behind him and spot Nick helping out a client. “Fine,” I say as if he forced me into the idea, and the two of us make our way through a labyrinth of trees. Nick has a large tent set up that has always reminded me of a circus that houses a small sampling of trees in the event inclement weather prevents people from stalking out into the wild to pick their perfect evergreen. As a little girl, I’d dance a jig on the day that beautiful red and white tent went up, and my heart always broke a little on the day it came back down. The trees outside of the tent are legion, and, of course, are fair game to customers as well. With literally acres of nobles and firs to choose from, the Winters Tree Lot has inspired people to drive from all over this region of Colorado.

  “So, what brings you to the lot?” he asks as we slow our pace. “You could have easily been snuggled up by a fire reading this little girl a bedtime story, and yet you chose to dress her funny and parade her around in this, a public display of misguided affection. It’s really quite humiliating for her. I hope you’re committed to paying for doggie therapy once she hits her teens.”

  A light laugh bounces from me. “So you do admit she’s mine.” I can’t help but boast a gloating smile. “I called Dr. Clemson this morning, and he said no one has stepped forward to claim her yet. I told him that if they did, they’d have a legal battle on their hands for neglect. There’s no way I would let those louses have this sweet baby girl back. Do they have social workers for dogs? Because if they don’t, that should totally be a thing.”

  Graham belts out a laugh just as we hit the corral in the back, and instantly Noel is flooded with a sea of toddlers who have all but abandoned their efforts at peeking at Santa’s snow patrol.

  “She’s loving this!” I give a little hop as Noel licks up every little hand and face in turn. Several of their parents begin snapping pictures of her, so I let the leash go, and we watch as Noel does her thing. “Would you look at that? She’s a natural!” I glance over to Graham and do a double take. He’s not paying one bit of attention to Noel. He’s too busy looking at me. “What?” I touch my fingers to my cheek. “Do I have frosting on my face? In my defense, I was icing what amounts to the Empire State Building, and I’d better not say that too loud or Mayor Todd will have me building a replica of it for next year’s auction.”

  “No,” he says it soft as his eyes gently caress my features. “You look perfect.” He tips his head toward the tiny cookie and cocoa stand set up to our right. It’s something Holly and I came up with when we were in high school. We would man it and make all the cookies and cocoa ourselves. I guess you could say this is the predecessor to the bakery. We’ve been baking our way to our destinies for quite some time now. There’s a bright red sign next to it that reads Get Your Reindeer Feed Here! “How about I buy you a cup of something hot?” he offers. “And if you’re good, I might throw in a cookie.”

  We head over a few feet, and I don’t dare take my eyes off Noel. But for the most part, she’s doing her impression of the world’s most perfect yellow lab—actually freezing like a statue for pictures and keeping her head pointed at the camera.

  “Geez,” I marvel. “She’s better at taking pictures than Savanah is. Don’t tell my sister I said that.” Although Holly would be the first to agree with me. I’ve been to almost all of Savy’s yearly photo shoots since she was one, and not once has she decided to cooperate with the photographer.

  Graham strums a husky laugh as he exchanges his dollars for hot cocoa and hands me a mug with three pink marshmallows floating on top.

  He takes a quick sip from his and moans. “That’s delicious.”

  “It should be. I made it.” I point over to the candy cane cookies and ask for four. “Here.” I hand two over to Graham as we amble over to the fence while watching Noel. “You’re more naughty than you are nice, but I’m giving you a couple of treats anyway.”

  He makes a face. “I’m nice. You just don’t realize it.”

  “Ha! I don’t realize it because it’s never been displayed. Name one nice thing you’ve done all night.”

  “I just paid for your cocoa. And I upped the value of your home by moving in next door. Nobody likes a deadbeat area filled with abandoned houses. You’re welcome.” He toasts me with his cocoa before taking a bite out of his cookie. “Wow, you are good. I’ll have to come by and sample my way around that shop of yours.”

  “Why not?” I toss my hand in the air, exasperated. “Everybody else is doing it.”

  “Like who?” His brows pin together in the middle and do their best impression of a bird in flight. Graham has always had the most mesmerizing dark full brows. Nothing busy beyond repair that you wish someone might landscape, perfect dark lines that expressed his every thought. I’ll admit that I have always been spellbound by those caustic blue eyes of his. It’s easy to get lost in them. Sort of like I’m doing now.

  “Like that new girlfriend of yours.” I can’t help but bite down on a devious smile. I’m going to hear it here first. Graham Holiday has a girlfriend, an official plus one who he will gleefully haul out of town for me come December twenty-sixth. Best Christmas present ever. Not a single soul in Gingerbread will be lamenting over the void Sabrina will leave behind. Graham and Sabrina will get their unhappily ever after, and I’ll be the one with a happy ending.

  My stomach sours as if maybe I won’t.

  Graham takes a deep breath, and his chest expands the width of a door. He rocks back on his heels a moment as he stares out into space. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Sure you do. I saw the two of you whooping it up at Angelino’s the other day, remember? You opened your mouth, and she laughed at whatever came out. If that’s not a sign of true love, I don’t know what is.” My body bucks with a silent laugh. How I wish I could replay that look on his face when he stomped his way to my table. Honestly, that look of horror was worth the entire effort.

  He grunts as he chomps down on his cookie again, this time with a marked aggression. “Sabrina is a handful, but that’s all she is to me.” He looks me over with a wry smile. “At the moment.”

  My stomach sinks like a stone, and I force myself to clear my throat. “So, what about back home? I bet you have twelve maids a-milking, all waiting for you in that expansive living room of yours.” I can picture it now. A bevy of scantily clad beauties all primping away for the moment their prince strides back to town on his white 747 steed.

  “You really think you’re funny, don’t you?” He blinks a smile my way. “I don’t have anyone I’m serious about back there either.” He looks to Noel as she does her best to squirm under the fence.<
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  “No!” I shout, and Graham gently lands his hand over mine as I try to reach for her. A lot of good that would have done. I’m standing a good fifteen feet away. “I swear, half the time she thinks her name is No.”

  “She’s fine.” He lands a warm hand over my back, and I can feel him vibrate with a dull laugh right down to my toes. “I let her run around in there during the day. It helps get all that extra energy out. That way she’s nice and tuckered out for you when you get home.” His dimples dig into his cheeks, and my stomach bites with heat. Darn Graham for bringing all his big city charm and his alarmingly handsome face back to Gingerbread.

  “You do that for me?” I give him a playful shove in the chest and note it’s hard as the Rock of Gibraltar. My God, is he bench-pressing all of Wall Street in his spare time?

  “Yes, I do that for you.” His head inches back a notch as if stunned I’d even ask.

  I clear my throat. “So you never answered the question. How many girls are you juggling back home? And do the ladies of the night prefer to be called women instead of girls?”

  His brows knit as he warms his shoulder to mine, his hand still at home over the small of my back. “You’re really not funny, and to answer your question, none. There were a few who tried to rope me, but I got away.”

  For a second I picture Graham running around exclusive nightclubs trying to escape an entire herd of girls with spinning lassos in hand.

  “Have you gone out with any of these people more than once? Like say, three times? I’m pretty sure in a big city like New York that qualifies as an engagement.”

  He laughs into the night, and something warms in me just to hear it. I used to do anything short of juggling monkeys on fire just to hear that sound once upon a time.

  “I guess so. A girl at the office.” He grimaces at the thought of her. “She’s actually put in the greatest effort to tie me down, but I’ve put up quite the resistance.”