All I Want For Christmas Is You Read online

  “Don’t put this on me. It’s not my fault the lights went out. I blame your bad juju more than me using a little extra power.”

  I scoffed. “A little extra power? That’s like saying the Kardashians are a little overexposed.” The woman had a full ice rink set up in her driveway with a half-dozen life-size skaters milling around to damn Christmas music—and that wasn’t a fraction of the shit she had going on.

  “Maybe it was you who blew the power,” she countered. “I see you messing with saws and stuff in the garage sometimes. What power tool were you tinkering with today when the power blew?”

  That almost made me laugh. I’d been messing with a power tool alright… I cleared my throat. “How long does this usually last?”

  “I don’t know.” She huffed. “The power has never gone out before.”

  Great. Just freaking great. “Well, did you at least call?”

  “No…did you?”

  I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. “Do you have some candles? I’m not exactly prepared for a blackout.”

  Josie nodded. “I do. But can you come in the house with that flashlight so I can dig them out? I had to use the batteries from my flashlight for something on my display.”

  I mumbled, “Of course you did.”

  The inside of Josie’s house smelled like a bakery. I shined the light into the kitchen. “Were you making cookies or something?”

  “Chocolate chip and pumpkin oatmeal raisin. You want one?”

  Considering I was salivating at the smell, and my plans had been to use electricity to microwave a frozen dinner later, it didn’t seem wise to pass up the offer. “Sure.”

  “Can you point that flashlight at the table, please? It’s to your right.”

  I moved the light that direction, and my eyes went wide. “How many freaking cookies did you make?” There had to be at least a dozen trays lined up on her table, each one with a heaping mound of cookies wrapped in cellophane.

  She peeled back the wrapping on one of the trays and slipped out two cookies. Passing them to me, she said, “I made eighteen dozen. Last year I made fifteen on the first night, and I ran out an hour before the end of the evening.”

  “Jesus, I figured you got traffic, but not those kind of numbers. I didn’t think there were a hundred-and-eighty people left in this part of Westhampton Beach.”

  She smiled. “I teach third grade in East Hampton. A lot of my students come—some are in college now and still come back every year.”

  I bit into one of the cookies. “Damn. These are good. I guess if I had a teacher who looked like you and made shit that tasted like this, I’d probably still be coming back at my age.”

  Even with only the light from the flashlight, I could see Josie blush. That surprised me; she had to be used to compliments with the way she looked.

  “Umm…my candles should be in the top drawer of the sideboard in the dining room,” she said. “Follow me with your flashlight.”

  She pulled a bunch of candles from a drawer, and then walked to the mantel over the fireplace and grabbed a lighter. After lighting a few candles around the room, she handed me two unlit ones.

  “Here you go. These are from Thanksgiving, so they might smell like pumpkin or spices.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  The flicker of the candle she held in her hand caught the blue of her eyes, and damn, her eyes were gorgeous. I forced my gaze elsewhere and nodded toward the door. “I’ll, uh, head back over to my place and give the power company a call.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll call and report the power outage, too.”

  Three hours later, I called the electric company a second time to see if they had an ETA on restoring service, but they still had no clue. I really needed to get some work done. My truck had an outlet, so I figured I’d go sit in the car to charge my laptop enough to see where I’d left off in my manuscript. At least then I could write using paper and pen tonight. But when I raised the garage door so I wouldn’t suffocate myself with exhaust fumes, I looked across the street and saw two rooms lit up over at Josie’s house.

  What the fuck? They restored her power and not mine?

  How long had she had electricity?

  Rather than start the truck, I marched across the street and knocked on Josie’s door.

  “When did you get your power back?”

  “Oh…” she said. “I didn’t. I have a gas generator. I went to the gas station a little while ago.”

  I frowned and lifted the laptop in my hand. “Do you mind if I charge this?”

  “No, of course not.” She stepped aside for me to enter and pointed to a power strip on the floor in the living room. “Go right ahead. Help yourself.”

  After I plugged in and made sure my laptop was charging, I glanced around to see what her house looked like in the light. “I’ll be back in, like, an hour to pick it up, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure.”

  On my way to the front door, Josie called after me.

  “Cole?”

  I stopped. “Yeah?”

  “Are you hungry? I just put in a tray of homemade manicotti.”

  While I debated the pros of a good meal with the cons of spending time with a woman who reminded me of Jessica, my stomach growled. Loudly.

  Josie laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Uhhh…” I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  Twenty minutes later, we were sitting at the dining room table. Since Josie’s living room didn’t have a lamp to plug into a power strip, we ate our meal by candlelight.

  The room was so quiet. I watched as she refilled her wine glass. Mid-pour, she looked up and caught my eyes on her.

  “What?” she said.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “Well, you’re staring at me, so it’s not nothing. Tell me what you were just thinking.”

  Since what your lips taste like probably wasn’t a good answer, I said something else I had wondered about. “What got you started with the Christmas over-decorating?”

  She smiled sadly. “William. William got me started. He was a student of mine. I had him in class nine years ago, in my second year of teaching. He had spina bifida and was confined to a wheelchair, but you’d never know it from his attitude. He was the happiest child I’ve ever met—and he loved Christmas. He used to decorate his wheelchair with lights and ornaments two months before the holiday. Because of his spinal-cord issues, he’d had quite a few back surgeries. He was preparing for his sixth one, which was scheduled for after our school year ended. It was supposed to give him a chance to walk with a walker for the first time ever. The last thing he said to me before summer break was that everything was going to be okay because he had asked Santa for sea legs in December.” Josie shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye. “An unexpected blood clot broke apart during his surgery. It went to his heart. He died on the table.”

  “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

  She wiped another tear. “It’s okay. You would think after almost ten years, I’d be able to talk about it without crying. But apparently not.”

  “You have every reason to be upset. There’s no timeline for healing from something like that.”

  Josie forced a smile. “Thank you. Anyway…I wanted to do something to honor William. So the next year I did a big Christmas display and put out a collection box for donations to the Spina Bifida Association. Some of the parents heard about it and came and made donations. One thing led to another, and each year I made the display bigger and more kids came. We’ve collected more than fifty-thousand dollars over the last nine holiday seasons.”

  “Wow. That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah. William would be thrilled about the display, so it makes me happy to do it each year.”

  And here I was avoiding this woman because she reminded me of Jessica. This woman was nothing like my ex. She was kind and caring, and damn, she could cook.

  I forked another bite of the manicotti and stopped with it halfway
to my mouth. “This is delicious, by the way. Best meal I’ve had in…I don’t know how long.”

  “Thank you. Have more. I have a bad habit of cooking for four even though it’s just little old me.”

  Josie really seemed like the whole package, so how come it was just little old her? “Why is that?”

  “Why do I cook for four?”

  “No, why isn’t there anyone in your life to cook for?”

  “Oh…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I date once in a while. Had a boyfriend for a while, but we broke up last year. So I guess…I just haven’t met the right person.”

  I nodded.

  Josie sipped her wine. “Are you sure you don’t want some? This merlot is delicious.”

  I’d declined earlier since I had to work tonight. But when she offered a second time, I couldn’t resist. “Sure, why not?”

  She poured me a glass and looked at me over the brim of hers. “And you—what’s your story?” She motioned to my empty plate. “I take it from the way you just scarfed down that food that you don’t have a woman in your life cooking for you?”

  I shook my head. “No woman in my life anymore. But even when the last one was still around, I didn’t get a home-cooked meal. My ex, Jessica, burned water.”

  Josie laughed. “I’m sure she wasn’t that bad.”

  “She tried to make me a birthday cake one year. She set the oven on fire. The fire department trashed my kitchen putting it out.”

  Josie chuckled, probably assuming I was exaggerating. Sadly, I wasn’t.

  I gazed across the table at her, taking in her smile. The candlelight cast a glow on her face that created an angelic aura. She really was beautiful, and at the moment, while her guard was down, she looked vulnerable. It made me want to be honest with her.

  “I apologize for being so harsh with you about your Christmas display.”

  “It’s okay. I get how the traffic can be annoying, especially to someone who works from home and counts on quiet.”

  I looked down at my plate for a moment. “My being an asshole actually had nothing to do with your Christmas display, if I’m being truthful.”

  She gave me a look. “No?”

  I shook my head. “You sort of remind me of someone, and that might’ve made me a little extra grumpy toward you.”

  Josie’s forehead wrinkled. “I remind you of someone?”

  I nodded. “My ex had long, dark hair and light skin like you. She was thin and…well, curvy like you. She also drove the same red Audi you do and loved the holidays—although she loved Christmas because it meant shopping and receiving gifts. Not for the right reasons, like you do.”

  “So you were a jerk to me because I resembled your ex-girlfriend?”

  “Now you think I’m an even bigger asshole, right?”

  She laughed. “I never really thought you were an asshole. There’s usually a reason when someone is so negative. It’s not about their feelings toward others; it’s a reflection of themselves—what they feel about themselves specifically, their own fears and hang-ups.”

  I tilted my head. “Ah. You’re very analytical. I should interview you for one of my articles.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “What is it that you write?”

  I wiped my mouth. “I’m a researcher specializing in the connection between neuroscience, psychology, and epigenetics. I write a series of articles about the mind-body connection, how changing your mindset can change your health and your life as a whole.”

  Her mouth dropped. “My grumpy-pants neighbor is a self-help guru? I would’ve never guessed that.”

  “Well, there are lots of ironies in life, right?”

  “I’ve often wondered what you wrote, like maybe you were a Nicholas Sparks-type author writing under a secret pen name. That always made me laugh because romance seems like the antithesis of you.”

  I chuckled. “Because I’ve been so warm and fuzzy?”

  She shook her head. “Right.”

  “Well, a lot of people think the information I put out is a crock of shit. But I’ve seen some amazing things happen when people are able to rewire their brains.” I sighed. “Admittedly, though, sometimes I don’t practice what I preach. I still get into the habit of not taking care of myself, dwelling on the past, or allowing anger and stress into my life on a daily basis, even though I know there are steps I can take to control those things.”

  She nodded. “So, how does one do that exactly—change their brain?”

  “There’s not a simple answer to that question. But the gist is a combination of physical and mental work. For example, what you put into your body is important…”

  I paused at the unexpected and definitely inappropriate visual my words elicited.

  “You mean like food?” she asked.

  Yes. Like food—not my penis.

  “Exactly. But not only that—how you spend your time and the people you spend your time with also affect your life more than you know. Removing yourself from stressful situations is key, as is finding a way to get out of your head, even if for just ten minutes a day through meditation. Stress is killer. It literally causes disease.” I moved some of the remaining food around on my plate, warning myself not to go off on a tangent. “Anyway…if you want to know more, I have dozens of articles on my website.”

  She leaned in. “I’m intrigued. Can you show me where to find them?”

  I picked up my phone and typed in the address before handing it to her.

  Josie scrolled through. “Wow. You’ve written so many articles! How do you come up with the topics? And why aren’t there photos of you anywhere on here?”

  “The company I work for prefers to keep it more about the information and not the source. I have no desire to become famous anyway.”

  She looked up from the phone. “Such a shame and a marketing fail on their part, because you’re really handsome.” Her cheeks turned red.

  She’s fucking adorable. I cleared my throat, unsure how to handle the compliment. “Thank you.”

  Our eyes locked for a moment before Josie handed me back the phone.

  “So, what’s next? What topic are you working on now?”

  I sighed. “Actually, I’ve been stuck lately. I’m on a deadline, and I’m struggling with where to take my latest article. Not sure what to focus on.”

  She moved her chair back and stood up. “Well, don’t let me keep you from working. Your laptop has to be fully charged by now.”

  Oddly, I didn’t exactly want to get up. I’d enjoyed talking to her, even if I’d opened up a bit too much.

  “Yeah…” I sighed. “At this rate, I’ll be up all night writing.”

  “What if you lose your charge again?”

  “I guess I’ll just be screwed.”

  She bit her lip. “Why don’t you work here for a while? Just keep it plugged in, and then when you’re ready to head back to your place, you’ll still have all the juice left.”

  Her offer was more than gracious, considering what a dick I’d been to her. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m positive.”

  “Thank you. I think I’ll take you up on that.”

  After we cleaned up our plates, I settled into a spot in Josie’s couch next to the power strip.

  Soon after, I could hear her shower running upstairs, and my mind went wild imagining what she looked like naked under that water.

  After a few minutes of enjoying that mental imagery, something miraculous happened as I stared at the empty page on my computer. I started to type. Deep down, I knew why my writer’s block had gone away. This place, as much as I’d knocked Josie in the past, was a warm and welcoming environment that relaxed me. And because I was able to calm my mind, ideas started to move freely within it. The words flowed as I began to write about my experience tonight. The title of the piece was: Change Your Environment, Change Your Productivity.

  I got more than a thousand words down in a matter of twenty minutes.

  When I paused, I
took in a deep whiff of the scented candles mixed with the lingering smell of cookies in the air. Was it really this place? Or was it her—knowing she was right upstairs and that for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t alone. My chest constricted, and my body tightened defensively.

  Don’t get too comfortable, Cole.

  Footsteps registered behind me, and then Josie appeared, wearing a long shirt that had snowflakes all over it. It went down almost to her knees, but most notably, it was thin enough to display the outline of her ample breasts much more clearly than her shirt had earlier. God, she was beautiful. I didn’t want to like her. But I did.

  Josie moved a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. “I, uh, wanted to say goodnight. Stay as long as you like.” She handed me a key. “Just lock the door from the outside with this. It’s a spare. You can give it back to me tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  She walked over to the counter before returning with a plate of cookies.

  “Just in case you need some middle-of-the-night fuel.”

  Her eyes glimmered in the candlelight. As good as the cookies smelled, there was nothing I wanted more than a taste of her. I shook my head. I needed to get my mind out of this fantasyland and focus. No way could I let myself fall for someone who looked so much like Jessica. I’d never be able to rid myself of the association, and it would end badly. It had to—I’d never allow myself to get hurt like that again. And that meant my defense mechanisms would end up hurting Josie. She didn’t deserve that.

  After she went upstairs, my writing streak continued. In fact, I was so into my writing that at some point, my body completely shut down.

  I didn’t realize it until Josie tapped me on my shoulder the next morning.

  Josie

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.” I smiled. It had been a while since a man had slept over. “I’m sorry to wake you. I have to go out to East Hampton to put my grades in the computer for report cards since the Wi-Fi isn’t working yet. I didn’t want you to wake up and the house be empty.”