How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

The sugar is boiling, the snow has stopped falling,

peppermint is in the air, and cupid’s arrow is calling.

“He’s charming, he’s sweet, and I love his sexy smirk,”

she thought to herself. “He’s so different now; he’s clearly not a jerk.”

“You have to pull, Storee,” I say from over her shoulder, eyeing our sugar lump on the hook attached to the wall. “The air has to get in there in order for it to turn white.”

“I know…that…” she grunts. “Ugh, this is hot and unpleasant.”

“Let me help,” I say as I come up behind her, wrap my arms around her body, and then together we pull. “Like this.”

Immediately I notice how her back fits perfectly against my chest.

How her head comes up to my chin.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

And how her hair smells like fresh flowers.

Things I shouldn’t be noticing, but for the life of me, I can’t stop myself.

“Oh my God, I’m not going to be able to do this on my own,” she says as we continue to pull the sugar and wrap it around the hook, watching as the once amber-brown substance turns a bright white. Kind of cool if you ask me.

“Your aunt Cindy did this on her own, which means you have to as well.”

“Maybe there’s something wrong with our sugar,” she says as we continue to pull together, the scent of her hair floating up, distracting me from what we’re doing.

“Nothing is wrong with it,” I say. “Look, it’s turning white. That means we did it right.”

“Are we done?” she asks as she stops. “God, my hands and forearms are on fire. Folding the sugar and kneading in color and flavor tired me out.”

I chuckle. “How the hell are you going to do this by yourself?”

“With some Christmas magic. Do you know if Bob Krampus or anyone around town sells that?”

I laugh. “Not that I know of, but if I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.” I tug the sugar off the hook and carry it to the heating station. “Okay, I think we have to divide this up now. We have our red sugar, but we need a base, then we need to make a blanket of stripes according to the diagram, and then stack it all together, pull, twist, and cut.”

“Oh, just that simple,” she says sarcastically before rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. “You know, I think it’s sort of irresponsible to ask newbies to make candy canes as part of the Kringle competition. Don’t you think it’s negligent? Boiling sugar, tugging, and pulling? I mean are we making candy canes or are we arousing sugar?”

That makes me let out a wallop of a laugh, prompting Jimmy and Ursula to shoot us annoyed looks.

“I’m never going to tug and pull on sugar the same, thanks for that,” I say.

“Just here to help ruin the process for you.”

Together, we cut the red-and-white sugar into strips, form a striped blanket of sorts, and then drape that over our white base. Then we take a solid piece of red sugar, place that on the bottom, and tug on one end, drawing the sugar into a long strip. We twist the sugar, creating that iconic t wirl of white and red, then snip and make a curve at the top, forming an actual candy cane.

Both of us stand there, a little flabbergasted.

“Did we just make that?” Storee asks.

“I think we did,” I say.

“Wow. I’m shocked. It looks like an honest-to-goodness candy cane. Like something Bob Krampus would stick in a stocking.”

“When referring to his Christmas duties, he prefers you call him Santa.”

“Oops.” Storee’s cheeks turn pink. “That looks like something Santa would stick in a stocking.”

“It does,” I say as I drape my arm over her shoulders. She snuggles into my chest, a vast difference from her prior reluctance. “I’m proud of us.”

“Me too.” She glances up at me and offers me that sweet smile of hers. “Thanks for rescuing me and bringing me here.”

“Like I said, I want to win because I know I’m better, not because you were stuck in your car.”

“Uh-huh, I think that’s what you’re telling yourself, but I know the real truth.”

“And what’s that?” I ask her as I begin to shape another candy cane.

“I think you secretly like having me around.”

Probably more than you realize…

“So do you think you can handle that on your own?” I ask Storee as we walk toward my truck, carrying a bagful of candy canes and some chocolates because we were both interested in the huckleberry truffles.

“No,” she says. We reach my truck and I open the passenger door for her. Her body brushes up against mine and instead of stepping in, she turns toward me. “You know, you don’t have to open the door for me.”

“Habit,” I answer.

“It’s a nice habit to have.”

The clouds have parted, and the sun is shining, barely peeking past the peaks of the mountains. And despite the chill in the air, the snow isn’t quite sticking to the roads, which is a good thing. But given the time of the day and the mountains blocking the sun, it’s going to get dark soon.

“Thank you again for today, Cole. I really appreciate it. I appreciate everything.”

“Yeah, of course,” I say, looking anywhere but into her gorgeous eyes.

“Does this make us friends now?” she asks. “Like actual friends, like we were when we were younger?”

“I don’t know,” I say as I hang on to the door. “Are you going to call me Connor?”

She chuckles. “No, I thought we established that you’re Snow Daddy now.”

“If you call me Snow Daddy, we are one hundred percent not friends.”

“Oof, someone can’t take a joke.”

“Someone doesn’t want to be referred to as Snow Daddy.”

“I don’t see why not,” she says as she leans against the truck with clearly no intention of getting in. “Snow Daddy makes it seem like you own Christmas, like if Christmas wanted a spanking, you’d be the one that gave it to them.”

My brow raises. “If Christmas wanted a spanking?”

She chuckles. “Oh yeah, Christmas can be a real kinky bitch.”

“Umm, I’m going to need you to explain.”

“Well, first, there’s the whole mistletoe thing. Forcing people to kiss on cue? Kinky. Then there’s the whole sitting on Santa’s lap thing…old man kink. Not to mention the wreathes and candles.”

“What about the wreathes and candles?” I ask.

“Oh my God, Cole. It’s like vaginas and penises hung all around.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask with a laugh.

“The wreath is the vagina, the candle is the penis. Put them together and, well, sex.”

I tug on my hair. “Charming as that is, I don’t think Christmas is kinky.”

“Clearly, you’re not looking at it the right way. You’re stuck in your head, in your perfect little Christmas town.”

“Are you telling me there’s more to Christmas outside of Kringle? But I thought we had a choke hold on Christmas.”

“Ah-ha!” she says, pointing at me. “See? Choking…kinky. Christmas is kinky.”

“Jesus,” I mutter in a soft laugh. “Get in the truck. I’m taking your perverted ass home.”

She hops up into the truck, and I shut the door when she’s settled.

Christmas wants to be spanked—where the hell did she come up with that?

Shaking my head, a smile tugging on my lips, I get into my side of the truck, and I glance over at her. She’s smiling brightly, clearly pleased with herself, and I realize for the first time in a really long time, I feel…light.

I don’t feel the weight of this holiday on my shoulders, the dread of it all.

I’m actually having…hell, I’m having fun.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and start the truck.

“No, tell me.”

“No, it’s stupid.”

“It’s probably not,” she says, pushing at my shoulder. “Just tell me.”

I lean my head back. “Just…you know…just having fun is all.”

She gasps and tugs my hand, forcing me to look at her. “You’re having fun? With me? Your nemesis? Ring the bells, call the town crier, Cole Black is having fun with me.”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t want to say anything,” I reply as I tug my hand back from her.

“I’m not even sorry. I’m going to shout it out the window when we get to Kringle, letting everyone know that Cole Black finds me fun to be with.”

“You do that, and while you’re at it, tell them how much you enjoy my kissing.”

She scoffs. “Okay, now we’re just telling lies, and during the Christmas season? Cole…” She tsks. “I think we’ve deceived the people enough, don’t you?”

I pull out onto the road and head toward the highway, thankful it’s a straight shot from here. And given that it stopped snowing, and the roads are clear, it might take us less time to get home than it did to get here.

“We wouldn’t be deceiving them—we would be telling them the truth. I saw the way you looked at me, felt the way you kissed me back. All passion.”

She laughs. “That was not passion.”

I reach across and pat her leg. “It’s okay, Storee. No need to be embarrassed. I get it. I’m irresistible to you.”

“Oh my God.”

“Exactly what you thought when our kiss ended,” I say with a smirk.

“And now you’re back to being incredibly annoying,” she says, folding her arms across her chest.

“Then my work here is done.”

Storee

“Taran just texted me that the car was dropped off in the driveway and that Atlas said it was all checked out and everything was good.” I turn toward him. “Thank you, Cole.”

“Not a problem,” he says.

“She also asked how I was doing since I had to be in your presence for more than a few minutes. I told her my skin was melting off.”

He chuckles and glances at me. “I don’t know, your skin looks pretty normal to me.”

“She would absolutely have a conniption if she knew that we were getting along.”

“Would she?” he asks. “Why?”

“Oh, you know, the whole ‘needing to win this for Aunt Cindy’ thing. I don’t think she’d appreciate me being friendly with the competition.”

“Well, then, I guess we have to go back to sparring.”

“I guess so,” I say.

“How did she feel about the fake dating?”

“Hesitant at first but then encouraged me, because she knew that it would help me in the long run.” I pause and think about it for a second. “Hey, that night when we were talking to Martha and she brought up your parents—that’s why you shut down, wasn’t it?”

He nods. “Yeah, wasn’t in the mood to really talk about it then.”

“Then why did you talk about it today?”

“Because…” He trails off, and I wait for him to say more. “Because seeing you in your car, scared and crying, I don’t know, it tore down the walls I’ve kept up. I felt like I needed to protect you in that moment. Not to mention the snowstorm, cars…well, it brought back all these memories, and I felt the need to, for lack of a better word, save you.”

“Well, I’m glad you did tell me. I wish you would have said something earlier. I might not have allowed you to put that many pineapple chunks in your fruitcake.”

“Saboteur,” he says, laughing. “You knew it was too many and you didn’t say anything.”

“It’s best when we learn from our mistakes, Cole. Also you never would have believed me. If I’d said something, you would have easily added more out of spite.”

“You’re right about that.” He passes someone on the left and then switches back to the right lane. “So what have you been doing the past ten years? Fill me in.”

Finding it completely adorable that he wants to know, I say, “Well, went to college, had a long-time boyfriend who ended up breaking up with me when he got his first directing job. Weirdly, I was okay with it because he was a tool anyway. I’ve found solace in editing Lovemark movies, taking care of my ficus, Alexander, and never leaving my apartment until Great-Aunt Cindy broke her hip.”

“Never leaving?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Yeah, I was a bit of a hermit. I would go on walks, but I really…I don’t know, I just didn’t bother with the outside world all that much.”

“Why?”

“I guess maybe because I didn’t need anything other than what I had.”

“And how do you feel about that now since you’ve been here?”

“Silly,” I admit. “Even though this has been stressful, and I’ve had to put myself out there more than I ever wanted to with this competition, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to interact, to know people around you. Living in California, especially in LA, I can be anonymous, and I kind of just stayed in my own bubble. But in Kringle, I’m forced outside of that bubble and required to talk to others even if I don’t want to.”

“So are you saying that you actually might like Kringle and not hate it?”

“Maybe,” I say, feeling very foolish. “Ugh, you know when you said you can’t let fear take over your actions…well, I think I let that happen. When I was a kid, I aspired to be something bigger, maybe even the person in front of the screen instead of behind it, but after the incident with Mrs. Fiskers, the embarrassment that followed, I lost all my confidence and, well, it just…trickled into my everyday life.”

“I don’t know, you look pretty level-headed and confident to me,” he says as he pulls off the highway, taking the exit to Kringle. “And I wouldn’t bullshit you, Storee. Ever since you’ve returned, I’ve noticed just how confident…how radiant you are.”

“Radiant?” I ask as I steal a glance at him.

“Yeah,” he says, his cheeks flushing adorably.

“Well, thank you. What have you been up to?”

“Taking care of the reindeer over at Evergreen Farm,” he answers. “I tried going to college, but I was only eighteen when my parents passed, and I couldn’t leave the house. The town rallied around me, the Maxheimers took me in, and I found comfort in being here, the place I grew up. I found comfort in seeing my parents in places all around town. Memories of them walking around Ornament Park, or having dinner at the Caroling Café, or going out for ice cream at the Polar Freeze. There were moments I didn’t want to forget, so I dropped out of college, completing only one semester, and the Maxheimers gave me a job working on the farm. Max’s dad taught me everything I needed to know about the reindeer, then I did my own research and, well, it just became my thing.” He shrugs. “I know it’s not much, but I find peace in it.”

“Why are you saying it’s not much?”

“Because I take care of reindeer.”

“So?” I say as he turns down Krampus Court, headed right toward Whistler Lane, our trip soon ending. “I think it makes you more human. Shows the kind of soul you have. I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do.”

We reach our cul-de-sac, and he pulls into his driveway. When he turns off the truck, he doesn’t leave the cab but instead tilts his head back against the headrest. “So, what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

He leans his head to the side. “Moving forward, do we still hate each other? Do we find common ground and show everyone that enemies can turn into friends? Do we continue to pretend that we have crushes on each other? Things changed today, and I’m not sure how to handle it all.”

“Oh, because we don’t hate each other, right?”

“It wasn’t hate—it was pent-up anger,” he says. “I don’t think I ever could really hate you, Storee. You’re the girl who drank hot cocoa with me on my porch. Hard to hate her.”

And when he says sweet things like that, it’s hard not to like him.

Hard not to have feelings.

Hard not to harbor that crush from many years ago.

Not wanting to open up that box, I decide to play it safe, stick to the status quo. “Well, I think the town has enjoyed the whole enemies-to-lovers vibe we’ve been giving off, so maybe we continue with that.”

“Yeah.” He turns toward me. “So does that mean we need to go on another date?”

“Hmm, I think to feed into what the people of Kringle want, we probably should at least mention that we did.”

“Right…mention it,” he says, his eyes falling to his lap, not what I was hoping for. After today, I would like nothing more than for him to make a move. Take my hand again, maybe…lean in for more. “We can, uh, we can do that. What about when you’re around your aunt and Taran…and Max for that matter? Maybe still spar, argue, all of that?”

“Probably for the best,” I say.

“Yeah, probably.” His lips crease to the side. “Okay, well, good luck with the candy canes. Hope Taran likes the truffles.”

Good luck?

Hope Taran likes the truffles?

That’s it?

Nothing else?

When I sense no movement, no temptation to move in closer, I realize, yup, that’s it.

“Thank you,” I say as I grab the bag of goodies, feeling disappointed. “And thanks for everything, Cole. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

And then together, we leave the truck, him going to his house, me going to mine. I just don’t know why I feel…as bereft as I do.