by Pixie Chica
Rolling my eyes at his obnoxiousness, I ask him again what does he want. He’s not a caller, finding it unnecessary when you can text in half the time. The man is always in a rush, and I hope he finds that one woman who can slow him down. Not that I’m any closer to finding my special one, but there’s something in the air this holiday season, that has me feeling as if this might be the year.
“Just wanted to know if you’re ok, I know our parents aren’t going to be around much, and you’re so far away. I want to make sure you don’t need anything. I’m going to try and not murder everyone in sight. These fucking streets full of the Christmas cheer it makes me sick!”
“I’m fine, and I’m sending you a gift. Don’t try and stop me.”
“Arrrg, fine” There’s a long pause on the other end. “I love you Grace, you take care of yourself.”
“Love you too, and I will. Find some cheer, you never know you might find the one this year.”
“Don’t curse me.”
After hanging up, I head to my desk looking at all the things I must get done today. The most important being getting a shipment to SC Incorporated. While I own the only year-round Christmas themed store/attraction in the area, I don’t get a lot of orders throughout the year. I used the inheritance my grandparents left me to open this place up and forge my own little paradise. Unlike the rest of my family who lives in New York and work in those high-rise buildings day in and day out, trying to make the next dollar or billion, I like my life here. I moved to Florida 3 years ago when I graduated from art school, and said goodbye to my family.
They didn’t even blink an eye when I did, always saying I was a free spirit that couldn’t be tamed, just like my grandmother. She was a Christmas-loving hippy who never quite fit into the New York lifestyle, and my grandfather fell for her the moment his eyes fell on her. She was everything that was lacking in that black and white world he lived in. They loved each other until their dying days. My mother, unfortunately, is nothing like her and I guess it skipped a generation. My father while a sweet man, is just like my mother, driven and set in his ways. Don’t get me wrong they are good people, but just motivated by success that is only attained through monetary gains.
Which leads me to why I'm sort of proud of this customer. It’s my first big sale, and I have to send out ten thousand ornaments by the end of the month with a promise to double the order next year. On a hunch I sent samples to this ad that was needing designers for ornaments. Inside I included a special one that I had decorated during a rather lonesome point in my life, and it seemed that it had caught the attention of the company. In the reply to our mutual contact the person who had made the decision had loved the unique piece so much she kept it and ordered the others.
I click on the required last steps, and make sure everything is ready for shipment. It seems this year is going to be extra special, something big this way is coming!
The front door opens and I hum along to Santa Baby that plays whenever the door is triggered to open. My foot taps incessantly to the beat and I look up to see my best friend, and employee Kent approach my counter.
“Girl are you almost done here? It’s mojitos and Harry Potter marathon tonight. I’m gonna need a drink after dealing with our new neighbor. She is the rudest person I have ever met. Crystal and I went over to say hi and she took one look at us, and closed the door. I thought I looked lovely.” He’s dressed as a Florida Christmas elf, so green Christmas shorts with suspenders and nothing else except for a hat. It is Florida for heaven's sake, and it is hot as hell down here.
“You do, I love the Christmas elf costume!” I reply sincerely. He’s amazing and always jumping into all my crazy ideas. When he’s not playing Santa’s Helper, he cashiers and stocks for me. The two of us managing the whole place ourselves.
Sometimes our friend Crystal joins us, but she’s not exactly pro Christmas, other than for the profit of it. She’s the best baker in town, and she makes a killing with her Christmas cookies. But swears up and down it’s a conspiracy against humanity.
“Maybe she’s just shy. I’ll come over and bring her some of your sister’s cookies. Everyone likes those, but first I have to wait for a phone call from the shipper that the order went out. I’m so intrigued by my new customer. I tried looking up some info on them but it seems that everything is so private. Kind of wanted to get my brother to look them up, but I’m not trying to be that person.”
“I would, don’t get me wrong, your shit is the top notch but ten thousand orders of them without even as much as a negotiation. I don’t know, it sounds fishy. You sure they aren’t trying to smuggle shit in your little trinkets.” He smirks and then because he can’t help himself, he goes for the punchline. “It’ll be one hell of a white Christmas if you know what I mean.” He acts like he’s snorting powder making burst out laughing. Kent is always the comedic relief in the group. We became friends the day I moved in next door to him and Crystal. The three of us always hanging out together.
“You’re a mess.” I tell him as my phone rings, and it happens to be the shipment company who confirms the information I was waiting on. Grabbing my purse I shut off the lights and head out, my arms interlocked as we skip all the way to our condo.
I know everyone is giving us looks as we go down the sidewalk, although the regulars don’t even blink an eye at us anymore. We’ve become a novelty the shirtless guy in Christmas clothes and the head to toe Mrs. Santa, going down the street skipping away.
Our apartment complex is only a few blocks away but living so close to the beach the streets are full of friendly tourist who stop us along the way to take pictures, making our five-minute commute well into 30 minutes. I’m bowled over laughing at the jokes Kent is telling me when we reach the 2nd floor, and in the corner of my eye I catch a shadow walk into the apartment next door, and her faint blond hair. Ah, the apparent mystery girl who Kent was talking about. Something inside me switches. I’ve always believed in letting the feelings guide my actions and right now it is telling me I need to figure out who that mystery girl is that just moved in.
Where’s all her stuff though? I fully expected to see moving trucks and boxes everywhere, but there was none of that. Maybe she was only here temporarily. As soon as the thought crossed my mind and uneasy feel takes over me. The mere thought of that caused such anxiety that I just wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but one thing was for sure I was heading over there as soon as I got those cookies from my place.
Thankful that Kent skips his usual coffee at my place, I run inside to get what I need. As much as I love having him over, I am a woman on a mission. Find out who has moved in next door, and why was I suddenly so needy of finding out. After packing up the cookies in a neat little basket, I head over to my oversized bedroom that is filled with Christmas items and gifts I plan on giving to the local boys and girls club. To say my room is a clusterfuck of decorations and ribbons, is an understatement.
Squeezing myself between my boxes of unloaded tinsel and lights, I make it to my closet in one piece, and find my favorite ugly Christmas sweater, and pair it with my red with white polka-dot pants. I take one last look in the mirror and run my fingers through my hair. Applying my NYX, Snow White lipstick, I look ready for anything.
I ring the bell, sure that the mystery woman will answer quickly, but it doesn't happen. I ring again, nothing. My initial demeanor falters a bit and I bite my lip nervously. Could I have missed her in the 15 minutes I was next door? Realizing that maybe her doorbell is not working, although I’m pretty sure I heard it. I knock on the door, still no answer but I can see the shadow underneath, and realize my mystery girl is behind the door. This time I knock harder and bring my face to the peephole. “I know you’re in there, come out with your hands up… I have you surrounded. Or well I got cookies, and lots of cheer.”
Still nothing, and now I’m getting a bit miffed. Where’s the common courtesy? This time I knock harder, and raise my voice an octave or two. “I’m your next-doo
r neighbor, and I am going to tell you, on this floor we are all friendly, so you need to get with the program. I can do this all day.” Hoping that my warning prompts her to open, I wait a few more minutes. Just as I’m about to walk away with my spirits crushed, I hear the lock turn. Much better.
The door opens abruptly, and just as I’m going to greet the stranger, I come face to face with her. A blonde angel, with the softest red lips I have ever seen. All lucid thought escapes me as she looks down at me from her honey brown eyes that have just the slightest glint of purple undertones, and I see her surprise too. Having to adjust my gaze when she takes a step forward, because she’s definitely taller than me. She’s my one.
Chapter Two
Brandie
People around here are way too friendly, and had it been a couple months ago, I would probably join in their eagerness. But that was then and this is now, and all I want to do is just stay here until New Year’s when I start my job with my uncle. He thinks I’m being rash, but I’m not and after spending two weeks with them, I had to find my own place. They are the sweetest but the constant nagging for me to call my parents was getting old. I wasn’t ready to communicate with the life I left behind. To the point I hadn’t even called John Alexander, although I did feel guilty about that. To make matters worse, I now had to deal with pesky neighbors trying to drive me to drink.
This morning it was the perky two from across the hall. Who is that cheery in this heat? Yet, they were, and one was dressed in the most curious of Christmas outfits. I couldn’t help but slam the door. Now someone else keeps ringing the doorbell, and I just know it has to be them again because I heard them coming up the stairs as I mad dashed to my own door. Although this was a different voice, a softer one, it reminded me of the finest carolers who sang on Christmas day. Those were specially selected to bring extra cheer after a job well done.
After hearing the bell ring twice the pounding starts and I’m ready to take out whoever is on the other side. What does a girl have to do to be left alone? The next set of pounding is more urgent and I look through the peephole to make sure it isn't an actual emergency before going back to my sofa and ignoring the imbecile on the other side. Only to have all breath leave my lungs, at the sight. A woman that can’t be taller than 5 feet with her hands on her hips ready to blow my door down with the look she is giving it. She’s much shorter than my own 5’9 and her brown locks falling down in waves, her blue eyes reminding me of the bluest of skies.
She’s the prettiest woman I have laid my eyes on, but what has me itching to open the door is what she’s wearing. She looks like a Christmas advertisement; she’s even got the cute Christmas hat with the lights on it. When her determined hand lands again on my door, this pull to her has me opening the door. Anger at how easily I gave in once I saw her eyes takes over and I open the door with more force than I mean to. I see the shock on her face, and when she cranes her neck to look up at me, I get a better vision of those mesmerizing eyes. Remember don’t get friendly. You’re here to be left alone. I have to remind myself, but I almost cave when she smiles, and it lights up her already too gorgeous face.
“Hi! I’m Grace, Grace Frost and I was just welcoming you to the neighborhood. Mind if I come in?” She says not really asking for permission, and pushing herself through the small opening that is between my door and me. A little in disbelief, I follow her inside closing the door behind me. Who just enters your home like that? Apparently, Grace does. She’s eyeing my apartment almost in disgust, and I’m about to protest.
“Where’s all your stuff?” She asks coming closer, and a hint of sugar cookies hits making my stomach growl. I haven’t had much of an appetite in the last couple weeks, and now my stomach has decided to show off.
“Well someone’s hungry when did you last eat?”
“I ah… I don’t know, but if you don’t mind, I was about to turn in for the evening.”
With a cocked brow she looks at her watch then back up at me. “Turn in for the evening? It’s seven, and you’re obviously hungry. I’ll take care of it, don't worry, why don’t you put on something for us to watch, I’ll make us dinner.”
“What? Wait no! I don’t even know you.”
The spit fire comes right up to me extending her hand, a little flabbergasted I take it, and she shakes it. “I’m Grace Frost, I live next door, and I’m about to make you dinner. I do recall just saying those things to you not even a minute ago, but I’m happy to oblige. Now sit your ass down, and play a movie. Or do you need me to do that, too? If I do, I can guarantee you it will be a Christmas Movie.” She says matter-of-factly, and I find myself obeying. I sit on the couch, flipping through all the Netflix movies. When I look over to the kitchen, and my own ‘Betty Crocker’ is leaning over in my refrigerator, her tight pants are stretching against her ass, and it’s making me wish this was more of a Netflix and Chill type of night.
“Are you having fun staring?” She says looking over shoulder and I’m mortified at being caught. “It’s ok, I don’t mind you looking.”
Not wanting to admit that I was ogling, I look forward and try to pay attention to Grey Matters, one of my favorite movies, but it’s not happening. I have to fight hard the urges to sneak a peek, and catch myself losing the battle multiple times. And sure enough each time, she catches me, a knowing smile pulling at her mouth.
Half an hour later, the delicious aroma that fills the room is making my stomach rumble even more than before. Chancing another look I see her coming over with a tray of food and I get up to help.
“You didn’t have to bring it; I could have helped you. I don’t even know why I let you cook in my house. You do realize this isn’t normal, is this like a thing? Because your other neighbor was also pounding at my door earlier.”
“Yes I know Kent told me all about your lack of people skills, but we’ll work on it.” She says laying down the tray that looks more like a gourmet meal than something whipped up in my kitchen.
“You did all that with what was in my fridge?”
“I can make miracles; I’ll be good to keep around.” She says sitting next to me, our thighs touching leaving no space between us.
“Um...I’ll keep that in mind.” I respond not sure how to exactly deal with her. A part of me is glad she’s pushed her way through my barriers, because I know I’d never be so straight-forward, but another part of me is trying to stay guarded. I haven’t ever been in love and I can see how easy it would be to fall for this perky, sweet woman.
“So what brings you to this part of town? Are you from around here?”
“No not really, I’m actually from up north.” I say taking a bite of the delicious food, and a moan escapes my mouth at the taste. “Oh my god this is good. You really are a Betty Crocker.”
Chapter Three
Grace
The way she savoring my food, and making those little noises, is the very definition of torture. Everyone has always said my cooking is delightful, but the way she is praising me for it, has me wanting to push her down on this sofa, and show her other things I’m very good at. I discreetly squeeze my thighs together hoping to relieve some of the ache I am feeling, although I’m certain nothing is going to stop it until I have her screaming my name with her full lips.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” She asks me mid-bite, and I realize I’ve zoned out.
“Uh yeah, sorry. I guess I hadn’t seen anyone like my food as much as you do.”
Her cheeks flush and I can tell I’ve embarrassed her. “Oh I’m sorry it’s been a few weeks since I’ve actually ate anything worthwhile. I am a horrible cook. I can bake, but cooking is not my forte. Molly used to do all the cooking for me.”
Jealousy sparks up at the mention of another woman’s name, and I don’t even hide it. What’s the point? I’m not planning on letting her go. Whoever this woman is, she’s lost the battle. “Who’s Molly?”
“Just a...wait why?”
“Because I want to know who I gotta watch out
for? Not that she’s competition, had she been you wouldn’t be here alone.” My words cause her to choke on her food, needing to cough a few times.
“What?!”
“You heard me, I said who is Molly?”
“A family friend who I consider an aunt. Not that it really matters to you. It seems you keep forgetting I don’t know you at all.”
Making a face, I squeeze her thigh a bit, not missing the tremor that courses through her at my touch. “And yet here I am, making you dinner, and taking care of you.”
“I don’t need taking care of, I’m a grown woman.” She retorts.
I sigh at how much she has yet to understand. “Not well enough, and I mean letting strangers into your house is a bit concerning. Let’s not do that again ok? Now eat up, I want to cuddle and watch the rest of this movie. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Um...Ok?” She replies, and I know I’m crowding her space, but I’ve never been known for being a patient woman. This is my one and she either gets on board, or she gets on board. When we finish our meal, and I cuddle into her side, something shifts, and everything is right in my world. I pull her arm over my shoulder, and although she hesitates for a second, I win when she leaves it there the remainder of the night.
Waking up this morning, I had an extra pep in my step, which was saying a lot since I was usually bouncing off the walls. Not that I had slept at all, I had left my sleeping beauty in her apartment a few hours ago, and left to my own to plan our next date. I was pretty certain she was going to want to call last night, not a date, but it was. Looking over at my Christmas tree clock, it was five in the morning, and all I wanted to do was run over to her apartment and wake her up with a kiss.
I did have to return her key that I had swiped last night when I wanted to make sure she was locked securely in her apartment. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, since we were going to be spending a lot of time together. But I’d wait until at least seven to wake her up, instead heading over to Kent’s apartment. He’d be up being the early bird he was. Walking out my apartment door with breakfast for both of us, I get startled, as I come right face to face with Brandie.