by Sable Sylvan
“No, Patricia, I have not,” said Ginger, rolling her eyes. “After the other night’s dramatics, I have no interest in running as fast as I can after some ginger bear men.”
“But when they ran to you, you pushed them away,” said Patricia, leaning forward against the counter. “You think that the ginger bears are the one that’re uncatchable, but don’t you see, Ginger? You’re the one they can’t catch.”
“I’m not the one causing drama!” insisted Ginger in a hiss.
“You’re not the one riding it through either,” said Patricia, raising a brow. “Look. Relationships take work. You think I could get Darius and Terrence to handle being in the same room together? No. But all of us—yes, even you, Miss Grumpy Pants—had fun at the Christmas party later on that evening.”
“How did you get your two mates to get along?” asked Ginger, seeing if she could sus the truth out of Patricia. There was no way Darius and Terrence weren’t her mates, given the amount of bullshizz they put up with!
“Uh-uh-uh, I know that trick,” chastised Patricia. “They’re just my two best friends—that’s it.”
“Okay, so, how did you get your ‘two best friends’ to get along?” asked Ginger, making air quotes with her fingers.
“Uh…” thought Patricia. “You know what, I might have to eat my own jingly Christmas elf hat on this one. I actually don’t know what I did. They just started getting along recently, actually.”
“So I’m back where I started,” said Ginger. “I don’t want to be with these bears.”
“You know, you never answered the question about why you went up the mountain,” said Patricia.
“I…I had to go,” said Ginger, softly. “I had to go because otherwise, they’d fight.”
“Why do you care if they fight?” asked Patricia.
“Because…ugh, I guess I don’t want them to get hurt,” mumbled Ginger. “I’d do it for any pair of shifters. I’d want to break them up.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” said Patricia sarcastically. “You know those shifter scuffles don’t really mean shizz. Nobody’s out for blood. So, what’s the truth?”
Before Ginger could answer, the doorbells jingled.
“We’re closed,” said Patricia.
“Oh, I’ll just come back later,” said the woman at the door.
“Actually…she placed an earlier order for pickup,” said Ginger, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “Ivy, I have your order right over here.”
Ginger motioned Ivy over to the kitchen, where she had two pastry boxes full of day-olds as well as two big paper bags. “Here you go—your regular order.”
“Thank you so much,” said Ivy. “If I’m getting you in trouble, then —”
“It’s no trouble,” said Ginger. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Merry Christmas!” Ginger saw Ivy out the door and went back to the wrapping station, hoping Patricia hadn’t noticed what had gone down.
Well, hopes were one thing. Realities were another. Patricia may not have been an eagle shifter, but she had the eyes of one.
“What was that?” asked Patricia.
“What was what?” asked Ginger.
“Order for pickup? After hours?” asked Patricia.
“It’s what it sounds like,” said Ginger.
“This location isn’t set up to receive orders,” said Patricia, crossing her arms.
“Took it by the phone,” said Ginger.
“And did you take payments over the phone?” asked Patricia. “Because this location isn’t set up for that, and you two didn’t exchange cash. Spill the baked beans, Ginger.”
“Okay, but…you might end up firing me,” said Ginger.
“All the more reason to tell me!” insisted Patricia.
“So, you can fire me?” asked Ginger.
“So I can help you cover it up before Jasper finds out!” said Patricia. “That nosy billion-bear gets his nose into everything.”
“That woman, Ivy, has been coming in here for day-olds,” explained Ginger.
“Usually, we just send them home with the bakers,” said Patricia.
“Yeah, well, I’m the only baker here,” said Patricia. “Ivy came in one day, with her three kids, asking to use the bathroom, and I learned about her situation. She’s homeless, and figuring out her shizz, just like all of us—she just doesn’t have a house to do it in and has three hungry mouths to feed.”
“And you’re giving her the day olds,” finished Patricia. “Ginger, you could’ve just told me. I am disappointed in one thing, though.”
“What?” asked Ginger.
“We have a policy to always give food away for free to those in need,” explained Patricia. “I thought the policy was clear, but apparently, it wasn’t. The next time Ivy comes in, let her and hers know they can have any baked goods or beverages in the store that they want. Charge it to Artemis’ tab.”
“Artemis?” asked Ginger.
“Long story,” said Patricia. “Now, look, Ginger. You’ve been doing a nice thing for someone else. Why don’t you do something nice for yourself? Give yourself the best early Christmas present of all.”
“An all-expenses paid trip to an all-inclusive resort in the Dominican Republic?” asked Ginger.
“True love—although that is a close second,” admitted Patricia.
“Great, I’ll just go to the true love store, put the true love in my basket, and hey, look, they’re having a two-for-one sale on true love! I’ll just grab two, and on my way out, grab a chocolate bar in the check-out line, along with a pack of gum in the flavor, ‘Mermaid Dreams,’ or maybe, ‘Unicorn Tears,’” said Ginger, crossing her arms.”
“Well, there is a two-for-one sale on love—but Fate’s the one holding it,” said Patricia. “Which bear do you like most?”
“Right now?” asked Ginger. “I don’t like either of them.”
“Okay—which one do you hate the least?” asked Patricia.
“They’re both equally despicable,” insisted Ginger.
“Okay, so if you feel the same about both of them…maybe that’s a sign,” said Patricia. “Maybe you’re meant to be with both of them.”
“Or maybe I’m meant to be with neither of them,” said Ginger.
“Look—Christmas is the season that throws everyone loops,” explained Patricia. “I know Christmas magic isn’t real, can’t be real, but I can feel it anyway. I feel that there’s something special in the air and that things that can’t happen during the rest of the year can happen during Christmas. Sometimes, that means things like ice-skating or building snowmen, but other times, it means things like unexpected families coming together.”
“Who said anything about families?” asked Ginger. “I’m not even friends with James and Richard right now! We’re definitely not family material.”
“The way you all fight, you must be family,” joked Patricia. “Look. Do what you want, Ginger. One thing works the same, regardless of the season, and that’s mate marks.”
“Those things have to be bullshizz,” said Ginger. “The idea of a magical tattoo, meant to lead a shifter to their true love? That has to be bullshizz.”
“Well, it’s not—so who knows? Maybe Christmas magic is real too,” mused Patricia.
“If I was meant to be with both Richard and James, wouldn’t they have matching mate marks, to prove they were meant to share a mate?” asked Ginger.
“That’s a lot of knowledge about ménages from a woman who claims she’s not into ménages,” said Patricia, raising a brow.
“Oh, come on—four other ménages have met at Bear Claw Bakery this season,” said Ginger. “Each one has a baker and two lumberjacks.”
“There it is again—four other ménages, implying you’re the fifth ménage,” said Patricia, crossing her arms. “Look, Ginger. I don’t know how much harder Fate can pound this into your head.”
“What’s Fate got to do with it?” asked Ginger.
“Well, how did you first meet the bears?” aske
d Patricia.
“You weren’t spotting me and—” started Ginger.
“How did you meet them?” repeated Patricia.
“I feel into their arms,” murmured Ginger.
“And what were they wearing?” asked Patricia.
“They were shirtless, mate marks out,” grumbled Ginger.
“And what color hair do they have?” asked Patricia.
“Ginger,” admitted Ginger softly.
“What was that?” asked Patricia. “Louder, for the folks in the back!”
“Ginger,” said Ginger, more loudly. “They both have ginger hair.”
“That’s right—they both have ginger hair, and they both were assigned to this job, and it’s Christmas frikkin’ season, and look Ginger,” said Patricia. “Run, run, run, as fast as you can, you can’t escape Fate, Ginger, or your bear men.”
“So if I can’t run away from Fate, where do I run?” asked Ginger.
“You grab a Bowie knife and stalk down Fate yourself like it’s a frikkin’ deer, and you have a hankerin’ for raw venison,” said Patricia. “Merry frikkin’ Christmas!”
Patricia left the store. Ginger changed out the spools of ribbon on the workstation and took the half-full spools to the storage area. The reels of ribbon were kept in a box on the top shelf. Patricia had been bringing over a lot of wrapping supplies, instead of sending over another one of the lower-level bakers to make the deliveries, or heck, even delegating the job to Darius or Terrence. Ginger had half a mind to think that it was because Patricia just wanted an excuse to come over and meddle.
Patricia wouldn’t do that, right?
Who was Ginger kidding? Of course, Patricia would. Patricia just had.
Ginger thought about how her boss was some sort of matchmaking Christmas demon. In her distraction, she didn’t notice that the box of ribbon was precariously perched on the edge of the wire shelving unit in the storage area. When Ginger turned, her curves smacked the shelving unit, and the box of ribbon came down!
The spools of ribbon spiraled down and unwound themselves as they ricocheted around the room. Their plastic wheels bounced off the carpeted floor, around the wire shelving units, and all around Ginger and her curves.
Meanwhile, Ginger was in the dark—literally. The cardboard box of ribbon had fallen down on her head! She tried to reach up to fix things, but her arms were bound. She heard the creak of a wire shelving unit as she moved her right arm. Great, just great—the ribbons that had wrapped around her body had also tied her to a shelving unit! If she moved, the entire shelving unit in the storage area could come down. Ginger had lost track of where exactly she was in the storage room, as she’d been turned ‘round by the ribbon accident. If her arm was connected to a shelving unit full of extra fluffy blankets, it’d be fine to pull it down…but if it was attached to the crystal figurines, she’d be in hot water.
“Guess I’m gonna be here until morning,” grumbled Ginger. “Hope Patricia locked the door behind her. Frik. How am I going to use the frikkin’ bathroom? I can’t frikkin’ believe that I—”
Ginger heard a sound. The cardboard box muffled the sound. Hopefully, the sound was of human origin, but at that point, Ginger would’ve settled for help from a Christmas ghost. If a Christmas ghost could make Scrooge learn the true meaning of Christmas, it could certainly help her out of her literal bind.
“Help!” called Ginger.
She heard someone talking. It was hard to put the voice to a face, given the cardboard box muffled sounds.
“Help!” called Ginger again. “Anyone? Is anyone there?”
She heard footsteps and shouted louder, worried that whoever was there was leaving the building.
Then, she heard the door to the storage room open.
“Hello?” called Ginger. “Help!”
“Shh, calm down,” said either James or Richard. Ginger couldn’t tell, and the last thing she wanted to do was to insult whoever was there to help her. “You’re wrapped up in a lot of ribbon. This is going to take a bit of time to undo.”
“Just cut it!” pleaded Ginger. “And, get this box off my head!”
“Uh…how do I put this?” said the voice of uncertain identity. “You’re very good at getting tied up in ribbon. Maybe you’re one of the best. Because you got knotted up with everything, getting you out is going to require precision.”
“What the heck does that mean?” asked Ginger.
“You know those spy movies, where there’s a maze of lasers protecting a diamond?” asked the voice.
“Yeah,” replied Ginger.
“It’s like that,” said the voice.
“Good metaphor,” said the voice after a beat.
Good metaphor? Did the person in the room just congratulate themselves? Was that a joke on top of the joke? That could wait.
“Great, the scissors are in the box by the ribbons,” said Ginger.
“Are there any other scissors in the store?” asked the voice.
“No, I…I put all the scissors in that box at the end of the night, and let me guess—you can’t reach it?” asked Ginger.
“There are other ways to cut ribbon,” said the voice.
Ginger was frowning, but nobody could see that, because she still had a cardboard box over her frikkin’ face.
Ginger heard ribbon breaking and the soft sound of it hitting various surfaces…but she also heard what she thought was squirrels or something. She heard biting teeth. Ah, geez—was her savior the frikkin’ Rat King from The Nutcracker, using his army to unbind her? From what she knew of The Nutcracker, the heroine wasn’t into were-rats, and at that moment, neither was Ginger. She had nothing against them, per se. She already had two hard choices to make between the two bears. The last thing she needed was somebody else barging in and saying Fate this, Fate that, fated mates, mate marks, happily-ever-after, and Merry dang Christmas.
Frankly, whichever one of the bears had found her and was untying her was the one she was probably fated to be with. It was such an inane problem that of course, it’d take a mind as sick and twisted and bored—don’t forget bored—as Fate’s to have made it up, and then packaged it with ribbon and sent it to Ginger.
Well…the decision would be made easier if the person saving her was James or Richard. There was one way of finding out.
“So…you stayed late?” asked Ginger.
“Yeah,” said the voice.
“Yeah,” the voice repeated. “There’s still more firewood that’s gonna need chopping tomorrow, but that can get delivered.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you found me,” said Ginger. Phew. It was one of the bears, but she couldn’t tell who. Well, she’d find out soon enough.
“Stay still,” ordered the voice. “Most of the ribbon has been cut, but there’s a ribbon attaching your right arm to a shelf full of—”
“Don’t tell me—priceless Christmas china,” said Ginger.
“Uh…bubble wrap and tissue paper,” said the voice.
“Are you frikkin’ kidding me?” hissed Ginger, yanking her arm to pull it free, the soft wrapping items be darned, but the hand of the voice stopped her.
“Calm down,”‘ growled the voice. “I’m going to brush up against you to get the ribbon loose.”
The voice stopped. She felt something tickling against her skin. It was the familiar feel of lips and teeth against her soft curves! A shiver ran up her spine. Were her rescuers actually vampires, who had managed to find their prey all tangled up for them like a very sexy fly in a very Christmassy spider’s web?
No. The teeth were not meant to bite her, but instead, they clicked and clamped on the ribbon. It was the same sound she’d heard before, just paired with new sensations. Ginger felt the decorations fall loose from her body, and finally, the cardboard helmet was lifted from her head.
It took Ginger’s eyes a second to get used to the light. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. It was just like her first day at the pop-up shop all over again. There was a ginger
haloed Christmas angel, or…or were there two of them?
“Am I seeing double?” asked Ginger.
“Are you seeing four of us?” asked Richard.
“No,” said Ginger.
“Then you’re not seeing double,” said James. “Wait, did you think only one of us was here with you?”
“Well, yeah,” admitted Ginger. “What’re the chances you’d both stay late, and both find me?”
“Pretty dang high,” said Richard, folding his arms. “You heard us both talk to you and couldn’t tell we were two different guys?”
“I had a box over my head, and it made it very hard to tell who was who!” hissed Ginger. “I thought there was just one person. It could’ve happened to anyone!”
“Yeah, well, it happened to you,” said James. “You know, you must have the worst luck in Port Jameson, Ginger. What was your plan for getting out of this?”
“Oh, I know this one,” said Richard. “Let me guess—you were gonna wait ‘til morning and hope somebody found you?”
Ginger’s cheeks turned bright red. “If you two hadn’t just saved me from the frikkin’ ribbon monster, I’d…”
“You’d what?” asked Richard.
Ginger suddenly pulled Richard and James very close. “You know what? Yes. I was scared. I was worried. But I’m happy you two were here to help me—to the point you two basically had to use extreme flossing skills to get me out of this bind. Thank you. Thank both of you.”
Ginger kept the hug going. James and Richard were uncomfortable being so close to each other. Their bears were being total dicks about it, roaring and going on about Fate and mates and other bear shizz, but the men quelled their bears. Both of them considered Ginger to be their woman, and their woman had been scared, and they’d saved her. A hug was more thanks than they’d thought they’d get at all.
Ginger couldn’t tell where James ended and Richard began. The fact they were wearing flannel shirts didn’t help matters. It made her feel like she was enveloped in a plush, warm bed. She felt the arms close tight around her body, and somehow, everything just felt…right
Maybe there was something to what Patricia had said about Fate, and maybe, Ginger didn’t need another dang sign. The only question was, could she bring herself to broach the topic with the bears?