Santa Bring Me a Ryan

by Rene Penn

  She barreled toward him. “When is Jules leaving?”

  "The day after tomorrow." He was surprised to hear her ask that because she'd written it on the calendar on the refrigerator.

  Kathy shook her head. “I hate to say this, but that girl…it’s like she’s two separate people. Charming one minute. Wreaking havoc the next.”

  He hadn’t thought of it that way, but his mother had a point. Jules could be sweet, cute, beautiful, sexy, and considerate. But when you turned your back…

  Kathy said, "Things started fine at first."

  “I agree.”

  He was surprised how fine things had been. He'd felt drawn to Jules in a way that he never had before. Since she no longer worked for him, he'd thought of her in a way that he hadn't thought of a woman in a long time.

  Kathy continued, “I liked her.”

  He did, too. It helped that his mother had liked her, as well as his father and others. They'd nudged him—both secretly and not-so-secretly—to consider her in a more-than-friends way. What they thought mattered to him. He'd permitted himself to try something new, to hope again. But now…

  “Now,” Kathy whispered, her voice scraping his ears, “I can’t wait for her to leave. There, I said it.”

  Bryan tilted back a little. His mother didn’t speak in disapproving terms about someone unless they deserved it. And, unfortunately, Jules had given Kathy enough reasons to come to her conclusion.

  “Mom, what you think about any woman I like means a lot to me. If you can’t wait for Jules to leave, and it’s her first visit, then I can’t move forward with her.”

  Plus, her behavior had triggered his worry about women, how they can change when you least expect it.

  Kathy put a hand to her head. “Move forward? Why would you do that?”

  “Because you liked her. You were practically pushing me toward her before she even arrived.”

  "Well, that was before I realized she was gay."

  Bryan’s toes curled in his shoes. “Excuse me?”

  "Now, I understand why you weren't interested in her in a more serious way."

  “Mom, Jules isn’t gay.”

  "She most certainly is." Kathy nodded. "I overheard her, upstairs in her room, talking to a woman on the phone. I guess it was her girlfriend. Since she was on speakerphone, I could hear everything." She emphasized the last word. "She asked if Jules had on the bra that she bought her for Christmas."

  Could it be? The red and green holiday bra?

  Bryan groaned. “Agh, Mom. Stop.”

  “It’s true.” Kathy nodded again. “She asked Jules if it was sexy.”

  Bryan crumpled on the inside. “I can’t have this conversation with you.” He rubbed his temple. “Besides that, I don’t think she’s a lesbian.”

  Kathy rolled her eyes. “And how do you know? There must’ve been some instinct that had kept you from being interested in her. Maybe this was why.”

  “It’s not. Trust me.”

  Lesbians don't kiss men in dark theater rooms, especially not the way she did. Just thinking about it made him get hot.

  “Okay, maybe she’s bisexual,” Kathy retorted.

  “I’m surprised you even know about all of this.”

  Kathy put a hand on her hip. “I know I don’t live in Washington, DC, but I’m not that out of the loop on what’s happening in society, you know.”

  “I see that. Look, I think Jules is straight. Call it men’s intuition.”

  “If you say so.”

  Kathy left, keeping the door open to the room. Bryan spent a few minutes going back to his online search when he heard a soft knock at the door. Jules stood in the doorway. And Bryan had a quick flash of being in his office at JSA.

  “Hey, come on in.”

  “I saw online what we can do about the bird. Turn off all the lights and make everything dark, except one window or door to outside. The bird will be drawn to the light and will fly out that way.”

  “Yeah, I saw that, too.” Bryan closed the browser on the search window and stood up from the desk. “Thanks.”

  "I'm sorry about leaving the door open."

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t mean to do it.”

  “I know, Jules,” he said more firmly. When she winced at his tone, he added, “It was an accident.”

  “Yeah.”

  Not knowing what else to say, he moved past her into the living room. She followed, and they shared the dark room theory with the others. Helena and Bonnie turned off all the lights. Paul and Kathy grabbed sheets. With Clara and Dave’s help, they placed sheets over the windows, where bits of light peaked through. Sure enough, with a little guidance from the group, the bird made its way down from the ceiling and out the front door.

  And luckily, no new birds flew in.

  Eleven

  Same dinner. Same table. Same company. Completely different vibe.

  Kathy sat four place settings away from Jules. On purpose, Jules figured.

  And Bryan avoided Jules' glances. His chin practically sat in his green bean casserole. She could almost see the molecules of attraction between them dissipate in the air. Jules understood why.

  But she had something that might turn things around—her cheesecake.

  She patiently waited until people finished the last few bites of their meals, then helped Paul, Bryan, and Ryan clear the table. Shirley had brought another cheesecake, too, but that was okay. Since the group liked her cheesecake so much, Jules thought there would be a chance they may like hers, too. What was that old saying: Imitation is the best form of flattery? It was also the best form of getting brownie points.

  Bryan grabbed Shirley’s cheesecake from the kitchen, Paul took Jules’, and Ryan filed behind with forks and napkins.

  Ryan nodded toward the breakfast table, “Can you get that apple pie on the breakfast table?”

  “Sure.” She grabbed it and followed the others back to the dining room.

  Everyone oohed and ahhed over the spread of sweets.

  “I want one of everything,” said Bud, rubbing his hands together. Like a dutiful husband, he dug into Shirley’s dessert first, a pumpkin cheesecake.

  Little Bonnie didn’t like the sound of pumpkin, sticking her tongue out at the idea. She pointed to Jules’ raspberry swirl cheesecake. “I want that one. It’s pretty.”

  Kid-approved. Jules would take that compliment. Hopefully, her dessert would win over the adults, too.

  Helena stood from her seat, holding a small plate up. “I agree, Bonnie. I’ll take a slice of that, too.”

  Kathy cut a piece and plopped it onto Helena's plate. Dave took the next slice, and Ryan maneuvered a plate in front of Kathy to get his share. She could hardly keep up with all of the dishes moving towards her. She even put a sliver on her plate, next to a small piece of apple pie.

  One by one, as everyone dug in, nods of approval went around the table.

  “Oh, this is heaven,” said Helena.

  Tarron let out a grunt of approval while Tyler devoured large bites like they were Tic-Tacs.

  With a raspberry stained mouth, Bonnie said, “It melts in my mouth,” eliciting chuckles from the others.

  Finally, Jules dug in. Yes, the cheesecake was perfect. The raspberry flavor accented the cream cheese without overpowering it or making it too sweet. And Bonnie was right. The texture came out light and not too heavy, almost airy. Jules glanced over at Kathy, who raised an eyebrow with pleasure. It disappeared fast, though—so quickly that Jules almost missed it. Straight-faced again, Kathy looked at Jules, cut her gaze over to Shirley, and back down to her plate.

  Dave took another forkful from his plate. “Shirley always makes the best cheesecake.”

  Did he say 'Shirley?'

  “But—” Kathy tried to jump in.

  “It’s delicious, Mrs. Shirley.” Tarron licked his lips.

  Ryan already finished his slice and began cutting another. “Shirley strikes again,” he said, grinning.


  They think Shirley made my cheesecake!

  “Wait—” Kathy said.

  Jules fought the urge not to become possessive over a silly dessert. But a small flame flickered in her belly. No big deal, she realized—a minor misunderstanding. Kathy had tried to jump in. She'd set things straight, let them know who made the cheesecake.

  But Shirley beat her to it, raising a shaking finger. “I didn’t make that one. I made the other one.” The one that only had a couple of slices missing, compared to Jules’ cheesecake, which only had a few slices left.

  “Oh,” Clara said.

  The clanking forks went quiet. Even Tyler stopped chewing. All eyes went to Shirley, who stood up, flicked her napkin onto the table, and left the room.

  “Sweetheart.” Bud quickly followed her.

  Jules’ throat dried up like cheap champagne.

  What the hell just happened? She shot a look at Bryan.

  “I was trying to tell you all that Jules made it,” Kathy rattled off before checking on her neighbors.

  ◆◆◆

  Thirty minutes later, after one slice and only a few crumbs remained of the raspberry swirl cheesecake, Jules cornered Bryan in the family room by the fireplace.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Shirley was going to freak out about my cheesecake?”

  Tigger lay below them in his favorite spot. He flicked his tail and placed it on Jules’ foot.

  Bryan said, “I didn’t know it was going to be that good.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” She hurled eye daggers.

  "I mean, I figured it would be okay. Edible, of course. But not delicious." He brushed his fingers over his hair, as he did at work when he learned something interesting. Surprising.

  He continued, "If I'd known how it would come out, I would've warned you. Or told you not to make it at all. Shirley can get touchy about her cheesecakes."

  “Uh, ya think?” Jules added, “And thanks for the high vote of confidence.”

  The doorbell rang, and Tigger got up to sniff out the newcomers.

  Bryan stuffed his hands in his pockets. "She's always been that way. It could because she's been in baking contests at the county fair. I forgot about that part. It's probably made her competitive."

  "I wish you told me. I would've made something else. Now Shirley hates me, as well as your mom." And if they hated her, that meant Paul and Bud hated her, too.

  “Bryan.” Kathy announced, “Look who’s here.”

  Jules turned and saw a perky blonde woman who stood about three inches taller than Jules. Her breasts looked as if they’d been mounted on an invisible table under her green sweater. Holiday bras were made for boobs like these. No foam inserts needed.

  “Hi, Bryan.” The woman hugged him then shook hands with Jules. “Hello.”

  Bryan cleared his throat. “Jules, this is Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn, Jules.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Kaitlyn said.

  “You, too.”

  Before she could finish, Kaitlyn’s gaze flickered away. Her focus shifted back to Bryan. Her breasts did, too.

  Suddenly, the room seemed smaller, and Jules didn’t feel like she fit in it.

  Kathy said, “Jules, do you mind helping me in the kitchen?”

  Yes, she minded. She should've been glad that Kathy requested her assistance. A way to replenish her depleted stock of brownie points. But a possessiveness swam over—woman's intuition.

  That perky blonde with her perky tits. With her man!

  Jules didn’t want to leave them alone together. But clarity struck as tersely as possessiveness. Whoever this woman may have been, she hadn’t spent Christmas with Bryan, had she? So Jules shouldn’t feel worried, right?

  Jules followed Kathy through the living room, back into the kitchen. Kathy said, "Let's give them a moment to catch up. They have a long history, those two." Kathy put on her apron and circled to the sink.

  “What, uh, kind of history?”

  “They were pretty serious. About as serious as you can get.”

  The feeling of acid coated Jules’ throat—and her stomach. How serious had Bryan and this woman been, exactly?

  Reading Jules' mind, Kathy added, "She was going to move to DC with Bryan a few years ago. But she changed her mind. Couldn't leave Missoula. She grew up here, like Bryan. Her whole family's here. As sad as I was that they didn't work out, I admired her reason."

  Jules swallowed. Kaitlyn couldn't leave her family in Missoula? Meanwhile, Jules' mom lived in Georgia, her dad lived in Connecticut, and she'd left them both for the holiday. Her reasoning had proved less than admirable. Her Dumb Thing. Her dumb, immature, stupid thing.

  Who was she fooling? She thought she'd wow Bryan, impress his family, and make him realize how much she should be a part of his life. Instead, Bryan's interest in her strayed farther and farther away, like driftwood in the ocean. His mother had all but dragged her away so that he could have a private moment with his ex-girlfriend. Right now, Kaitlyn stood with him in front of the roaring fireplace, not Jules. And it sounded like that's what Kathy would have wanted. Maybe Bryan, too.

  She asked Kathy, “Is Shirley still upset?”

  Kathy gave a small smile. “She’ll be okay. She’s got her pride, that’s all.”

  Ryan walked into the area, blocking the light with his Mountain Man frame. “She’s fine. We got her talking about her bake-off awards, and she’s back to smiling.”

  Ryan saved the day again. Must’ve been a natural talent.

  He took a seat next to Jules. “You leave in a couple of days, right?” When she nodded, he said, “Bryan and I should show you around town tomorrow before you go.”

  “Sure, that would be great. Thanks.”

  The way things had been going with Bryan, she’d probably never come back to Missoula again. At least she could see some of the sights before she left.

  ◆◆◆

  Bryan’s mom had sent a message. Once Kaitlyn had arrived, she ushered Jules off into the kitchen, leaving him alone with his ex.

  Message received, Mom, loud and clear.

  It took him a moment to realize what the hell Kaitlyn was even doing there. But when he'd bumped into her on Christmas Eve at the mall, she'd mentioned stopping by. He'd shrugged it off. Or maybe he was only half-listening?

  Either way, he didn't think she'd do it. But that's how folks were in Missoula. If someone said they were coming by to visit, they meant it. He should've known better. At least he could've expected, anticipated, the awkwardness that crawled around inside him as they spoke.

  They didn't talk about anything earth-shattering or private. They spoke about their holiday. He asked if she'd found the doll that her niece wanted. Yes, she had. And she asked if he'd been lucky with his last-minute gift shopping, too. Yes, he responded, thinking happily about the coat he got Jules, how excited she was to open the gift…

  “That’s the co-worker you were talking about, right?” Kaitlyn asked.

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Her gaze searched his face. “She seems nice.”

  “Yep,” he said.

  “Are you two together?”

  Bryan crossed his arms. “No.” And the thought of that answer changing seemed slim to none the longer Jules stayed at the house.

  “Oh, okay.” Kaitlyn pasted on a smile and skipped back to small talk.

  After several more minutes of that, she said she should be getting back home. “Should I tell everyone that you said hi?” she volunteered.

  “Sure.”

  She hugged him goodbye, lingering too long, leaning her torso against his. When her breasts pressed into his chest, he backed away.

  “Good seeing you, Kaitlyn. Thanks for stopping by.”

  He walked to the door to see her out. After he shut it, he got a clear view of the kitchen, the breakfast table, where his brother chatted with Jules. Ryan wore that dopey grin he got when he liked a girl. Bryan clenched his teeth.

  He better not be up to s
omething.

  Twelve

  The next morning, Jules woke up earlier than she did the previous days. She sauntered downstairs for a pre-breakfast snack when a whiff of marijuana hit her nose. Aha! If only Kathy were there to witness her innocence.

  Jules sniffed her way around the kitchen, passed the dining area, back-tracked, and followed the odor to a vent in the study. The smoking could’ve been coming from the basement, but the door to the lower level was closed. She tip-toed back up to the second floor and glanced out the window. A patch of plaid fabric floated toward the back corner of the house.

  “That’s it.” She threw her Christmas coat over her PJs and sweatpants, stuffed her feet into socks and boots, and headed outside.

  She may have caused a power outage, she may have been responsible for a bird flying into the cabin, and she may have made a better cheesecake than Shirley—all of those by accident—but she didn’t smoke weed. So she needed to find out who did.

  She went back downstairs, out the front door, and into the bitter cold. The sun hadn't fully risen, and a chill wrapped its way around the house, nestling under her skin and curling against her bones. She circled the perimeter of the cabin, determination bounding each step, expecting to see Tyler or Tarron or both. But no…

  The plaid she'd seen belonged to Dave, sixty-something-year-old Dave, who passed a short joint over to his wife, Helena.

  “Jules!” Helena exclaimed, sending her into a coughing fit.

  “Put it out,” Dave said, as if Jules hadn’t already caught them in the act.

  “Too late,” Jules said. “I see you.”

  “Oh,” Helena whined, her voice dragging like a stoner. “Let me explain.”

  Jules said, "No need. You guys do what you want. But I don't like being accused of doing it when I'm not."

  Helena said, “Who’s making accusations?”