by Rene Penn
But it was a jobless Christmas for her. Because of him.
He let out a heavy sigh, and a cloudy puff cut through the cold outdoor air.
Since Jules arrived, they hadn’t discussed the layoff. She didn’t seem to have a grudge. And the Like a Boss mug confirmed that. But just in case…
He brought it up as they crunched their way through the snowy neighborhood sidewalks. He threw the ball ahead for Tigger to retrieve.
“How are you—” Bryan spoke at the same time she said, “I want to—”
They both chuckled.
With the apology ready to leap out of his belly, Bryan didn’t want to let chivalry win out. But his manners prevailed. “You first,” he said.
“I want to apologize.”
Had he known she was going to say that, he would’ve insisted on speaking first. “No way.”
"Yes, way. I totally crashed your Christmas. And with the holiday party…" She covered her face with a leather-gloved hand. "I was upset about what happened…with…you know." Yes, he knew…the layoff. "I wanted to make everyone else happy at the party because I was miserable. And I think my shenanigans got you in trouble."
“Oh, you’re talking about Ernie?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, as though he’d asked a silly question.
“It’s my first offense with him. It’ll probably blow over.”
"But it wasn't your offense. It was mine."
“Don’t worry about it. And don’t apologize. I laid you off. At Christmas.”
He felt more ashamed about it now than ever before. He could barely look at her. Tigger trotted up, distracting the thickness of the moment. He took the ball from the dog's wet muzzle and tossed it out again.
Bryan said, "You apologized the day after the party, and I accepted it."
“I thought that was out of pity. I was crying.”
He smirked. “That may have been a factor.”
A laugh burst out of her, and it ignited his cells again. He stole glances at her as they walked, glad to see her doing the same. Tigger leaped happily through the snow, dropping the ball and picking it back up with delight.
Bryan stopped. "I said it before, but I'll say it again. I wish I didn't have to let you go, Jules. Truly. I hated having to do it, and I'm sorry." He frowned. "I should've told Ernie—"
“No.” She reached out and touched his arm. He liked it, the way her hand lingered there. “I know it wasn’t your call. It was his. You had to do it. I know that.”
“Yeah?” he said, stepping a little closer to her.
“Yeah.” Her hand was still perched there. Warmth radiated through the fleece he wore.
He looked down at her lips. “I should’ve been a better boss.”
“I should’ve been a better employee.”
“And I was a jerk yesterday.”
“You were.” She smiled a little. He could kiss that smile. Easily. Right now.
“I want to make it up to you.” The words came out like a bad line in a date-night B-movie. But it felt like the perfect thing to say, as cheesy as it was.
And then, he heard the jagged sound of heavy breathing. It wasn’t his own. Or Jules’. Tigger stood by Bryan’s knees, panting up at him, waiting for the next round of fetch. Jules moved her hand from Bryan, took the ball from Tigger, and hurled it far ahead. An impressive throw. He recalled Ernie’s comment about her not being first-string quarterback material and let out another sigh.
He turned back to Jules, who'd slowly started walking again. The brewing moment between them had officially ended, the sexual tension disappearing like a whisper in the dry Montana air. A pocket of powdery snow fell from a neighbor's tree onto the ground. The regal trees in the distance carried snow like white crowns. Fireplaces churned from homes nearby, sending puffs of smoke from chimneys into the sky. The heavenly aroma of burning logs delighted the senses. Bryan and Jules shared the task of throwing the ball to Tigger.
After some time, Bryan said, “I’m still going to make some calls. I’ll see if anyone I know is looking for a marketing coordinator.”
“Okay.”
“And I’ll be a reference whenever you need it.”
She smiled at him. “I know.”
Oh, did she? Her confidence sent his blood for another ride.
“You’re not mad that I crashed your Christmas?”
He smirked at the question. “You tell me.”
They’d doubled-back toward the house, and she was about to step onto the sidewalk, her mouth poised to say something. And then she slipped, down in a heap faster than Bryan could blink.
“Shit” was his response.
She, on the other hand, tipped her head back and laughed.
“Are you okay?” he asked, guiding her up to a standing position.
“I cannot believe I fell.” Her voice crackled. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“You say that a lot.”
She took a step, winced, let out an "Eh," and repeated the process over. And over.
“Stop walking. You may have sprained your ankle.”
“No, it’s fine.” Jules continued to walk, her face reddening with each step.
Bryan cut in front of her, crouched down a little, and threw her over her shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t know if she referred to him cave-manning her or the fact that his hand was on her rear to keep her balanced.
“I did this before. Nothing new here.”
“Was your hand on my butt then, too?”
Ah, so she noticed. “No. My hand was on your legs. Which were bare and very smooth.”
She giggled. “Sounds like workplace harassment.”
“Report me.”
A tight rope loosened inside of him. He whistled to get Tigger’s attention. Paws on snow tracked closer behind them, following them back home.
◆◆◆
Back inside the cabin, Jules rested in a reclining chair, her foot propped up with an ice bag. Bryan had secured it to her ankle with a towel. There'd been a discussion between him and Paul about the first aid she needed. It was nice to know they cared so much.
In between all that, Jules managed to fire off three "S.O.S.," "Mayday," and "Call me ASAP" text messages to Kerri. Her friend finally returned them with a video call. Jules hobbled her way upstairs for privacy. Her ankle had improved since the fall an hour ago, but she couldn't put all her weight on it without grumbling a little.
On the video call, Kerri’s skin glowed in the screen, at least two shades browner than usual. And she wore a light pink mesh coverup over a hot pink bikini.
“You belong on Beachfront Bargain Hunt’s Christmas edition.” Jules sank onto the plush comforter of the bed and tucked a pillow under her foot. “Look at how beautiful your skin is. You’re like a shiny, human penny.”
Kerri smiled, tossing her shoulders this way and that, gloating. “But look at how beautiful you are in winter white.”
“Are you talking about my skin or the sweater?”
Kerri threw her head back, laughing. “Both, darling,” she drawled. “But what’s underneath is more important. Are you wearing the bra that I got you for Christmas? How sexy is it?” Kerri let out a mini-squeal.
And Jules did, too, until she heard something creak outside her door, like a foot hitting a loose floorboard.
“Hang on a sec.”
Jules listened to the soft air. Only chatter and laughter floated up from downstairs. No creaking.
But just in case…
“Let me put on my headphones. No one needs to hear us talk about my bra.”
Kerri chuckled at that, and Jules heard another creak. Her senses heightened, like a million antennas. She shifted her weight toward the door, listening…
Nothing.
She grabbed her headphones off the nightstand and plugged them in. “I thought someone was outside my door. But I might’ve been hearing things.”
“Maybe it was Bryan. His man-instincts have told h
im what’s under that sweater.”
“He knows what’s under my sweater.”
“What?” Kerri bellowed. “And here I thought the S.O.S. text was a bad thing. Spill it, you naughty girl,” she said sassily, and her eyes glimmered with hope.
“Prepare to be disappointed. I wasn’t wearing the bra when he saw it. He merely pointed it out in the hallway when I accidentally dropped it on the ground.”
“Sure. Accidentally dropped it.” Kerri winked so hard that mascara smudged the top of her copper-toned cheek. “Good move, Jules.” A thumbs-up emoticon appeared on the video screen.
Jules grunted. “No. I dropped it by accident. I was…flustered.” By hot, Christmas-morning maleness.
Kerri pressed forward. “It doesn’t matter. That man has been thinking about your bra all day. I’m so glad I bought it. Hands down my best Christmas present to you.”
“True. But there’s more.”
“What the hell? Do tell,” she rhymed.
"I'm starting to think something is going on. Maybe I wasn't supposed to see my parents for Christmas. Maybe I was supposed to come here, so this could happen."
Kerri got closer to the screen. “What do you mean?”
Jules filled her in on everything that had happened. "It's like an awakening between us." Neurons in her belly pounded and zig-zagged. "I like him, Kerri. It might sound sudden. But it's not really, right? I've known him for two years. We worked together. So, it's not that sudden, is it?”
A little piece of her had secretly pined after him for months. But that wouldn't have surfaced until now.
“Sudden or not, this is bloody romantic.” Kerri practiced her British accent. “Positively brilliant.”
Jules told her how she'd slipped and fallen outside, and how Bryan had thrown her over her shoulder.
“So manly.” Kerri shuddered with delight. “Did he cop any feels in the process?”
"Sort of." Jules blushed, thinking of his steady hand on her butt, so she didn't tip one way or the other. "Yeah, he did."
“Double-brilliant.”
“When we got back to the house, he made an ice bag and ordered me to stay off my feet.”
“How bossy,” Kerri said with a sassy tone. “I like that.”
“Is he waiting on you hand and foot?”
“He got me a glass of water. I only fell an hour ago. Not much waiting on a person can be done in that amount of time. The ice has helped. It wasn’t too bad getting up the stairs a few minutes ago.”
“You should milk this injury for every drop. Let him carry you everywhere you go. He can be your love slave.”
Jules cracked with laughter.
“Has he told you that he likes you?” asked Kerri.
“No. We’re not in the eighth grade.”
“Does it feel like he does?”
Jules nodded. “Butterflies are doing pinballs in my stomach.”
“Triple-brilliant.”
“Enough with the brilliant thing,” Jules teased.
“Fine.” She sighed as if her soul had been wounded, then perked up again. “I officially take back everything I said about Bryan being a wanker. Now I want him to be a wanker in a naughty way.”
“Doubt that. He’s not the naughty-wanker type.” But she never thought he’d throw her over his shoulder, either.
“He must see your holiday bra,” Kerry stressed. “Figure out a way to get your sweater off, will you? Fall again and pretend to break a rib or two. He’ll have no choice but to ice your chest. That’s when—”
“I love you, but I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.” Jules smiled and ended the call with her crazy friend.
Seeing the holiday bra may not have worked out the way Kerri hoped. But deciding to spend Christmas "alone" had worked out to be better than Jules ever could've imagined.
Eight
The next few hours passed in a flurry. Lunch came and went, and more guests arrived at the Blakely cabin—Bud and Shirley from down the street; Bryan’s cousin Helena and her husband Dave with their young teens, Tyler and Tarron; and another cousin, Clara, with her five-year-old daughter Bonnie.
The house bustled with conversations while old school Christmas carols jingled in the background. Tigger circled laps around the house to get rubbed on the head and to keep tabs on everyone. Jules loved every moment of it. A full house, lots of love, and the holiday spirit. And everyone treated her like they'd known her for years. Her cup runneth over like delicious hot cocoa.
Jules had been chatting with Helena and Dave about the “cosmopolitan life of Washington, DC,” as they called it. And the couple moved on to grilling her on how she knew Bryan.
“I know it’s none of my business, but I have to ask.” Helena’s cheeks plumped as she grinned. “Are you and Bryan an item? Or I guess people your age call it hooking up.”
Jules squeaked on the inside like a chew toy. An item? Squeak. Hooking up? Squeak.
That’s when Bryan appeared out of nowhere, and her stomach lurched like a greyhound clearing the starting gate.
“Do you all mind if I steal Jules for a minute?” he asked.
Crap!
He must’ve overheard Helena’s questions. Jumping in before Jules could answer with something inappropriate, like, “I’m working on the girlfriend thing and the hooking-up thing, if you know what I mean,” followed by a very uncool wink-nudge-finger-snap-point combo.
Bryan guided her to an area of the room where they were out of earshot. She tightened her lips—wincing because her ankle still hurt a little and bracing herself for what Bryan had to say. His timely arrival must’ve been to set the record straight. “Jules, I am not your lover,” she expected him to say in an authoritative Darth Vader voice.
Instead, he said, “My parents need help.”
“Oh.” Her jaw and shoulders relaxed, her pulse returning to normal, her ankle throbbing less. “Sure, what’s up?”
“They’ve been in the kitchen, cooking like crazy. Christmas dinner’s kind of a big deal for my folks, especially my mom. It’s supposed to be ready at five, but they’re behind schedule because they always slow down to talk to everybody.”
On cue, the doorbell rang, and more voices entered the fray of chatter.
Bryan glanced at his watch. “Every year about this time, I start ushering people away from the kitchen. We put on the Christmas Peanuts special in the living room, and It’s a Wonderful Life in the theater room. Can you help with the ushering, and then let me know which room to meet you in?”
On that last part, she swayed in his direction an inch or two, and her breath caught.
“I know those movies are kinda lame.” Shyness crept into Bryan’s voice. “But it’s a Christmas tradition we have.”
"It's not lame at all. I love Peanuts. My parents and I watch the Christmas special every year, too." She glanced away and corrected herself. "Used to watch it."
“Hey.” He touched her chin lightly, leading her line of sight back to his. “You okay being here, away from your folks?”
Her toes tingled from his touch on her skin. She’d almost forgotten what he’d asked. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
“Have you talked to them?”
“My mom.” Jules left off the part about her mom thinking Bryan was her boyfriend. Her eyes twinkled at the possibility of that becoming true. “I’m going to call my dad later. Either way, I’m okay being here. I mean, I’m glad you let me.”
A crooked smile passed his lips. “I must admit, I wasn’t so sure at first.”
She could tell. But that was in the past. Today was another day.
He said, “I like you being here. With me.”
Something brushed her fingers—Bryan's hand. Her toes tingled more, and her ankle throbbed from the blood pulsing through her veins. She shifted her footing, to her good side, and his hand moved.
No! Don’t move.
He looked down. “You should get off that ankle, huh?”
“It’s fine. I’m okay.”
Go back to what you were doing—touch my hand and my face and my holiday bra.
“Bryan!” Kathy yelled from the kitchen.
He perked up, severing the moment. “Time to usher. Where should I meet you?”
As much as Jules liked the idea of watching Peanuts, seeing it on Christmas without her parents didn’t feel right. “The theater room.”
He nodded, and they went their separate ways, corralling everyone into the designated areas. Ten minutes later, he joined her in the theater room, a part of the cabin’s large, finished basement. Five rows of comfy leather chairs faced a large screen. Bud and Shirley sat in the front row with Rose, a widowed neighbor who’d just introduced herself to Jules.
Bryan got the movie going. The film’s age produced a hollow sound through the speakers, adding to the nostalgia. Bryan cut off the lights, turned on a small heater in the corner of the room, and took a seat in the back row, next to Jules. The leather chair had felt cold when she first sat in it, but her temperature escalated when Bryan sat next to her.
The others chatted with each other over the movie, so she wasn't surprised when Bryan started talking, too.
“How many times have you seen this?”
“Not once all the way through. I’ve only seen bits and pieces.”
He shook his head. “Don’t tell my parents. It may change their opinion of you.”
She smiled back. She thought they'd liked her, but hearing it from Bryan made her giddy inside. "Will you rat me out?"
“Hmm.” He looked up at the ceiling, pondering. When she nudged his elbow off the armrest, he chuckled. “Okay, I won’t say anything.”
“I’ve seen Peanuts countless times. That must count for something.”
“Whew. At least there’s that.”
Their easy rapport wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket.
“Can I ask you something? And promise not to take it the wrong way…”
"Okay." She could make out the outline of his jaw in the darkness, the small smile over his lips.
She asked, “How come you don’t act like this at work?”
“I have no flirting at work policy.”