'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set

by Maggie Dallen

  He swallowed hard, and it was at that quick stare down she realized, there was more to Jesse than she had written him up to be. Perhaps that’s why he always seemed to have the upper hand, because these years working together, she was treating him like an imbecile when there was more to these pranks. All this time, she viewed him as the unwanted brother she never had. Meeting him was quite the education.

  “Or I would because he was creepy,” Jesse responded, flinching in anticipation for another swat.

  “Oh, hush up. You don’t even remember what he looked like.”

  “That’s right, I didn’t get a good look at him,” he teased, reaching over to the candy bowl on Rowan’s desk. The sound of the plastic foil wrapping took precedence in the room. Popping the mint in his mouth, she could hear it rattle around his teeth. Ugh, was he making that sound on purpose. He bit the candy and parted his lips to show it off in a toothy grin.

  He was always smiling, always up to no good.

  “We have two options for our staff party this year, since the schedule is hectic—” Sophia interrupted her husband.

  “And someone forgot to book the location. I told you, Rowan. You have to book it in July if you want it this close to Christmas.”

  “I was hoping for a last minute cancellation.”

  Sophia did not seem impressed with Rowan. By the way her fingernails tapped her arms while crossed, he would be receiving an earful when they left the room.

  “Point is, we could wait until late January or better, we have all the party supplies here. I could order the food. We save money...”

  “More for our Christmas bonus?” Ezekiel peaked with more enthusiasm. His back straightened and he seemed an extra inch taller.

  “We’ll keep it simple,” Sophia conferred. “Since we have more staff in the summer, Rowan and I were discussing planning a summer barbeque as the main event instead.”

  “I didn’t green light that. Don’t get your hopes up, I’m mulling it over.”

  “As he’s mulling it over, what do you say? This Friday afternoon, we’ll take her easy and have a secret Santa gift exchange, eat until we’re sick, and wish each other a Merry Christmas with our families.”

  Ezekiel lifted his finger to interrupt, “If it’s during work hours, does that mean we can’t drink?”

  “Exactly.” Rowan grinned greedily.

  “The Winter Carnival?” Jesse dipped his head. “You might not be working, but we’re clocking in overtime.”

  “Who runs the show?” Sophia snapped. Technically it was him and Collette doing most of the grunt work on a day to day basis, but he backed down. Collette learned at a young age the popular saying, ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you’ but in this case she interpreted it as don’t complain to the boss lady who writes their paycheques.

  “I’m not coming into this office unless I absolutely have to next week. Don’t give me a reason, Mr. Thorne.” Sophia scribbled everyone’s names on sticky notes, folded each one in half, and reached out for her husband’s worn baseball cap. Shuffling the papers inside it, she pulled out the first name.

  Ezekiel lifted his finger again, “We are getting a Christmas bonus, right?”

  Rowan focused on his hat going around the room. Collette reached for a name slip.

  “Oh, oops, I got mine,” she grabbed another, tossing Jesse’s back.

  Jesse watched Ezekiel shove his paper into his coat pocket, but when he hung it up for him, was caught red-handed snooping through it.

  “You do realize how a secret Santa is supposed to work, right?” Ezekiel leaned against the laundry stack and dumped a cap full of detergent into the washer. He tossed the tablecloths in it. “It’s secret.” Slamming the dispenser shut, he poked the buttons, turned the dials and hit start. The spinning of the drum echoed in the large open space. “Or it’s supposed to be. Who did you get?”

  “If I tell you, then it’s not a secret.” Jesse assumed Collette was a terrible card player, since she failed to shield her paper. What a liar. Really, she should’ve known him well enough to know he would look.

  “What’s so difficult about buying Collette a cheap gift? You bought her flowers. What’s the difference?”

  “Hey, what makes you assume I got Collette?”

  “Deductive reasoning,” Ezekiel said with a deadpan expression, tossing Jesse a disinfectant spray bottle.

  “Five bucks says—”

  “No.”

  Jesse pushed the paper back into his coat pocket without a glance. “Fine, but you’ll both regret this decision. I have her every year and she’s going to think I cheated.”

  “That’s because you cheated the last two years.”

  “To-may-to, To-mah-to. You say that like it’s a bad thing. Those were great gifts. I really topped myself...”

  “You bought her a safety orange recorder, and last year you gave her—”

  “All thoughtful gifts I assure you.”

  Ezekiel shook his head. He would never understand the running game between those two.

  Jesse drove the forklift, moving the shelf holding the various tarp tents all labelled with five digit codes. Checking the list Collette printed off for him, he sorted through which ones were necessary for the weekend.

  The days passed in what seemed like a few short blinks; it was Friday. There was a fresh layer of snow on the roads, yet the forecast was predicting clear skies until later the following week.

  Over half the supplies were dropped off in the downtown location, but he still had to set them up. His workload was rough, but Collette must have felt the brunt of it. On top of communicating with the organizers—if available, she was calling previous customers in hopes of receiving late payments before year end.

  He needed to be on his best behaviour, more so he wanted to keep a closer eye on her. With the breakup and her cumbersome workload, he was desperate for the grand reveal of his ‘Mr. Wright’ prank.

  Jesse needed to be more obvious, more infuriating, more... sympathetic. He sighed, tugging at his long curls which mixed into his thick beard. All that hair encircled his face like a mangy lion’s mane. He could probably use a shower too. Jesse slept in his tattered t-shirt from a late night of TV. He couldn’t sleep. It was strange; all he could think about was her.

  Mr. Wright would most definitely put effort into his appearance. Her admirer would show up showered, shaven, and in a monkey suit, ready to sweep Collette off her feet. Jesse was jealous of the fake Damien, not because he loved her—that would be absurd. It was all the praise she gave a man who didn’t exist—from one nice gesture. He complimented her all the time and all Jesse received from Collette was a scowl. It was one specially fixed for him. Still, a part of him hoped this scheme would hurt like he had been, but another part never wanted the ruse to end. The last thing Jesse wanted was to admit the truth.

  Who was he kidding? Collette never flirted with him. Why would she, when she had a boyfriend? It was just the way she talked, smiled, shrieked around him. No! No! No! It was his stupid inflated persona puffing up his interpretation of reality again. There wasn’t anything to interpret from this prank. It was all pretend.

  His phone beeped, giving him the text he had been waiting for all morning. It was time for phase three: make Mr. Perfect too perfect.

  “Yo, Zeke, I need your help.”

  “You or Mr. Wright?” Ezekiel asked with a snarky grin. There wasn’t anything remotely romantic between Jesse and Collette. Yes, they were both single and she was absolutely gorgeous, but that was never going to happen. For starters, they worked together, oh and there was the fact she hadn’t shown any interest. Any! Her rejection used to bother him, considering the long lineup begging for his attention. It bruised his ego, but injuries heal, and what they had was a peculiar bond—friends! They were merely friends. Collette admitted in their last staff meeting, that she trusted he would weed out the creepers for her, which he would—as a friend.

  “Only if you help.” Jesse held up a twenty-doll
ar bill. “I need to pick up her present. When I hand it to you, under no circumstances can you reveal it’s from me.”

  “The secret Santa?”

  “No, her secret admirer’s secret surprise.”

  “You’re still on that?”

  Jesse handed him the cash. Ezekiel lifted it up to the light, then slipped it into his wallet.

  “What will it be this time? Chocolates? No offence, but local businesses have been dropping off more than enough boxes.” Even if that wasn’t the case, she had gone into Christmas baking mode and Jesse’s daily cookie thefts were becoming more delicious by the day. “And between you and me, Collette could afford missing out on a couple—” Jesse glared at him, “—or not? It could just be her body type.”

  “Trust me, this gift is perfect.”

  Collette looked up from her desk at the massive box in Ezekiel’s hands. The shiny paper had adorable penguins holding candy canes wearing Santa hats sprawled around it. There was a large satin ribbon tying it all together, a bow bigger then her head. It was the type of packaging one would only see in the movies. That alone perked her mood. Even if it was a giant itchy sweater, she didn’t care. When it came to Christmas presents, bigger was better.

  “Hmm, I can’t imagine who my secret Santa is this year.” She rubbed her lips together, though she was surprised to admit, he had serious present wrapping skills. “I love animals, these penguins are so cute.”

  “This isn’t from me.”

  She shot up to her feet, rushing around the desk in her sock feet. Technically she wore her boots to work, but wearing them all day would make her legs sweat, an uncomfortable feeling she would gladly take a pass on. Jittery with excitement, she read the tag, “Merry Christmas Collette. XOXO. Love, Damien Wright!”

  “Hugs and kisses, eh?” Ezekiel grinned, “Careful. It’s fragile.”

  “He said love!” she squealed.

  The back door opened. It was Jesse, stumbling in a couple minutes early before their so-called staff party. It didn’t matter, there weren’t any ten minute tasks when they all had holiday brain, and nothing he could do would ruin this moment. Collette tore the box out of Ezekiel’s hands.

  “No! Careful!” Jesse shouted, stabilizing it despite her greatest desire to shake it for clues. In haste, his large hand grappled the box, brushing over hers.

  She raised her brows, but a soft, “Mew” left her speechless. She froze in place, wanting to disregard the suspicious comment from him, unless he heard Ezekiel. Could he through the door?

  His touch was roasting her hands, permeating heat like he held them over a fireplace. Slow. Steady. Her cheeks were burning up. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, from hastily transporting decorations for the Winter Carnival all morning.

  Jesse seemed extra nervous, slowly sucking on his lower lip, studying her reaction. No need. This wasn’t high school. A slight touch wouldn’t give her butterflies... even if his dark eyes were more beautiful than she’d ever allow herself to admit.

  Could he be—

  “Meow.”

  Gawking at the two boys, she gently lowered the package onto her desk and lifted the lid. Inside, rolling in circles, feet over its head was a fluffy kitten. It stood, claws preening the cardboard wall, wanting to climb. Staring into Collette’s eyes, she could telepathically agree this teeny-weeny kitty was calling her Mama, and was begging her to take her home. Her eyes watered, picking up the precious youngling and snuggling it to her cheek.

  No, definitely not him. This was romantic, thoughtful, caring—not Jesse Thorne.

  “You actually like it?” he gasped, checking with Ezekiel like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re actually going to accept a kitten from a stranger?”

  “Yes. Maybe... Don’t judge. I’m lonely, okay?”

  “Though that may be a common factor, it’s not a good reason to become a crazy cat lady,” Jesse commented, but she didn’t give two hoots to his opinion at this particular moment. This little girl, assuming it was a girl, needed a name.

  “Since it’s so close to Christmas... Joy.”

  “What?”

  “I’m naming my kitty. Since it’s so close to Christmas, I’m naming her Joy.”

  “Not Claus?”

  “No! Her name is Joy!”

  Jesse cringed, “And in the slight chance it’s a boy?”

  Collette squinted, “Damien Junior.” He chuckled at her choice, but he was in no place to mock this new love budding inside her. Despite the cute mews by her ear and tiny scratchy licks on her cheek, she wasn’t completely immune to his strange behaviour.

  “Is that barbeque sauce?” she asked pointing out the brown flecks in his beard. Ew. He should really shave. He scratched it then licked it clean. It made her want to hurl. “Did you eat my lunch?”

  Ezekiel glared at him too. Jesse held up his hands defensively.

  “Fine, I’ll be honest. Yeah, and they were absolutely delicious. I would literally pay for seconds.”

  “But that’s my—”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Zeke, it’s only fair. If Eve took Adam’s rib, I take Collette’s. You could say I’m taking one for the team.”

  Collette lowered her kitten into the box.

  “No. You stole my lunch! What am I supposed to eat now?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I wouldn’t steal. This is an exchange. You can have my pizza.”

  “Your pizza?” Ezekiel tsked, “Rowan’s buying us all pizza.”

  Collette cursed herself for forgetting, but she wasn’t grateful for the ‘exchange’ either. There’s this thing called a refrigerator. Jesse could have left her lunch in there. She could have eaten her lunch later.

  “Can we return to the crisis at hand here?” Jesse griped, gesturing to Damien Junior. “There is a cat in the office. Guys who like girls don’t gift them cats, they stand close, flick their hair, murmur sweet nothings, say at least one crude or outrageous comment and if she laughs... they go to the bar together for drinks.”

  The front door swung open wide, sucking out the hot air in the room.

  “Huh, I can’t imagine why you’re single,” Sophia sneered, carrying a stack of pizza boxes and a plastic bag. Rowan followed her carrying a box of takeout dishes. “Where are the decorations?”

  Collette and Jesse looked at each other.

  “We’re going with a more simplistic approach, though I recommended a wreath there and mistletoe somewhere around here,” he pointed to the ceiling tile above his head and winked at Collette—clearly a joke.

  “I obviously vetoed the idea for obvious...” she pointed at Jesse, “...reasons. Very obvious... this is a workplace and I am a professional here who has a job to do. Not every girl wants to kiss you.”

  “Whoa, lighten up. I was only messing with you.” His shirt brushed against her as he reached over her desk to grab something, probably a mint.

  “But you would find a way to make it happen, and that’s just a silly outdated tradition. People don’t kiss strangers under the mistletoe.”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “I’m certain the word you’re looking for is co-worker.”

  “Nope. On Wednesday, you called me a friend. Besides, I saw you smile when I mentioned the mistletoe earlier. Someone was hoping their ‘Mr. Wright’ would waltz right in. But have you ever thought he might not exist?” He leaned against the cupboards over her desk, waggling his eyebrows in the smuggest way possible. “Or he does, and he’s not the man you think he is?”

  If her other scowls hadn’t been a clue, she displayed one fiercer than the rest, holding the kitten close to her heart, as to not offend his pointed ears.

  “Who needs decorations?” Sophia mumbled, but her words were drowned out.

  “He’s shy,” Collette whispered after a beat, refusing to consider any other alternative.

  “Shy or not real?” Jesse snarled back. “Just open your stupid gift.” He plopped a gift bag on her desk. It must have been used.
It was wrinkly and an old sticker tag had been half peeled off.

  Ezekiel took the crate of food from Rowan’s hands, “Uh, we’ll be upstairs waiting.”

  “Go on ahead,” Jesse hissed.

  The doors clicked and he waited until they had full privacy for what he had to say. Collette had her back to him, tuning all her attention to the adorable fluff-ball in her hands.

  “Why can’t you appreciate a single thing I have to say?” His voice was more menacing than she had ever heard before, having an unexpected low gravelly tone.

  “Why can’t I take you seriously? Look at yourself.” Her response was rather squeaky. No wonder he didn’t listen to her. She had the nag-voice. “You have rib sauce all over your face, your hair is a mess, you smell, that shirt—”

  “Oh, you have a problem with my clothes?” In one tug, he meant to point out his t-shirt, but with the smoke fuming from his ears, the fabric stretched in his hands, ripping the holes until it was a rag stuck to his arms.

  “Fine, it’s an old shirt but I have good ideas once in a while. If you’d listen, you might glean off some wise sage wisdom.” He reached over to the coat rack, zipping on a Price Event Rentals embroidered sweatshirt.

  “Wise? Oh come on, Jess. You’re not that old.” With the side of her thumb, she stroked the kitten’s stomach. “Don’t say it. I’m allowed to feel love. Bryson was a mistake, but so what if this Damien guy is unorthodox; he’s sweet, generous, thoughtful.”

  “So am I.”

  “You, the tattooed brute.”

  “Is that how you see me?”

  “No...” Collette gulped. Okay, maybe a bit, but she wasn’t paid to learn about him, her purpose at work was to help the customer. “I just don’t understand why you would make a big deal about why I should care if you don’t take care of yourself, okay? It’s not about appearances, but it... what does Brooklyn see in you? I don’t get it.”