How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

A blush crept up her cheeks; she worried she’d be caught.

Surely she didn’t think him attractive! Surely she did not.

He was mean, conniving, the absolute worst of them all.

His ears were too big for his head, his lips entirely too small.

But of course, those were lies told to make her feel better.

The truth was his pelvic thrust made her wetter and wetter.

“You know, it’s not that cold out,” I say as I walk next to a very disgruntled Storee Taylor.

Fuck, do I love seeing her like this.

Her cheeks pink with anger.

Her upper lip snarled with irritation.

Her fists clenching at her sides, ready to pounce with revenge.

I’m under her skin. There’s fear there…and that’s exactly what I want to see.

I’m not normally this arrogant or rude. Grumpy? Yes. Provoking? Not really. My interactions with women are generally limited to the realm of the very tame. I go out and find the occasional hookup because I have “needs,” but no one’s ever really excited me like Storee Taylor. Not that I want to hook up with her…of course I don’t. But this is fun. And I haven’t enjoyed myself like this for many years.

“I’m invoking the not-talking rule,” she says, holding up her hand to me. “You invoked it in the Kringle Krampus, and I’m invoking it now.”

“Oof.” I wince. “Sorry, but that’s not how it works.”

“What do you mean that’s not how it works? It’s a tit for tat kind of thing.”

I shake my head. “Unfortunately, it’s not.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” I rock on my heels, lips sealed together in an apologetic grimace.

“Who made you the authority?”

“Well, since you’re in my town and I’m the one who has lived here longer, that gives me all the authority.”

“Uh, but you’re forgetting one thing,” she says, looking like she’s about to stun me with a comeback. “I belong to Aunt Cindy, so her years transfer over to me.”

“Yeah, that’s not how that works either,” I say, ignoring the empty feeling in my stomach as I consider the years my parents missed out on. It frustrates me, how many more thoughts of my parents I have during this time of year. Not wanting her to see the change in my expression, I move past her toward the hardware store.

Paula is standing at the register when I walk in. She lifts a hand and grins. “Cole, heard about your pelvic thrusting last night. I didn’t believe it until Martha showed me a video on her phone.”

The door rings behind me, announcing Storee’s arrival as well.

“Rude,” she mutters. “You didn’t have to shut the door on me.”

Didn’t realize I had, but that’s a positive.

“I didn’t know you had those kinds of moves,” Paula says to me.

I smile at her. “Only pull them out for special occasions.”

“Yes, well, Peach was saying at the breakfast table how you served last night, and Martha’s sent the video to almost the entire town.”

Great.

Just what I need. The entire town watching that display over and over.

Sure, I was proud of Max and myself, but I know a few months from now when the adrenaline has calmed down, I’m going to regret ever painting my body green and smoothing my hands over my ass, showing the town my Grinch-like figure.

“The more I can help people celebrate the Christmas season, the better,” I say, and I suddenly remember my sash. Fuck. I pull it out of my back pocket and drape it over my chest. “Speaking of which, didn’t want to get this wet when I was fixing Martha and Mae’s kitchen sink.”

“Leaking again?” Paula asks as Storee moves past me, acting like she’s interested in some dowels. I know she’s eavesdropping. She’s not sneaky in the slightest—probably the worst sleuth I’ve ever seen.

“Yup. I told them after this round of adjustments, they might have to call a real plumber because I don’t think I’m actually doing anything to fix it.”

Paula chuckles. “Did they ask you to come over in your lederhosen?”

I chuckle as well. “As a matter of fact…they did.”

Paula shakes her head. “You know they made it leak on purpose.”

I wink at Paula. “Hence why I plan on telling them to call a real plumber.”

“They never will.”

I sigh heavily. “I know.”

“Well, let me know if you need help finding anything, and hey, have you thought about your light display?”

“I have.” I catch Storee leaning in to hear. Wanting to mess with her, I say, “I was thinking about going simple this year, understated. I know how much you love a classic Christmas.”

Paula opens her mouth to protest, but I quickly press my finger to my lips and then nod toward Storee, who’s feigning interest in the plunger in her hand. Paula glances in that direction and then offers me a conspiratorial smile. And this is why being known in the town is going to work to my advantage.

“Oh yes,” she says robotically. “Classic Christmas. Subtle, understated. That’s what we’re looking for this year.”

“And with a heavy focus on blow-up decorations, right?” I add. “Because I have that fifty-foot Santa that I’m chomping at the bit to use.” Blow-up Christmas decorations are prohibited in the competition, which is spelled out in the rules. Not sure if Storee’s read the rules or not, but if she’s snooping around for ideas, I’m thinking that she doesn’t have any idea what’s going on.

“Fifty-foot, interesting. Where did you find a fifty-foot blowup?” Paula asks.

“Online. Shipping was a bitch, but he’s ready to be inflated.” I glance over at Storee, who knocks on the plunger, testing out the rubber. She nods in appreciation and then carries it against her shoulder as she heads down one of the aisles.

“Not going to work,” Paula whispers. “She’s smarter than you think.”

“You’re giving her too much credit,” I say.

Paula shakes her head, mirth in her eyes. “If she puts a sixty-foot blowup in the front yard, you’re the one who’s going to have to face Krampus.”

I hold up my hands. “Not my problem.”

Chuckling, she nods toward the back. “You know the drill. If you need more of anything we have, I can pull from storage.”

“Got it.” I knock on her counter. “Thanks.” Then with my eyes on a wandering Storee, I head to the back of the hardware store, where Paula and Peach keep all of their Christmas decorations. It’s probably the most comprehensive collection of lights and adornments in the world thanks to where we live. The store opens up in the back, elevating the space into two stories of decorations, all sorted by need.

Strands of lights are divided up by type of bulb, color, and size.

Extension cords and hanging devices—the accessories, if you will—are all in one area.

And then there are the prelit garlands, the unlit garlands, and the tinsel garlands. The lit-up nets for bushes, the projectors, and the balled-up lights. Not to mention the lawn ornaments, which are displayed by pictures in a binder to sift through and stored in the back.

Everything you could ever want.

Not sure what Max has planned, since he’s the one captaining the ship after last night. I pull out my phone and send him a text.

Cole: At the hardware store, anything you want me to grab for the light display?

While I wait for his response, I head upstairs, where I know they keep the string lights. I grab a basket while I’m at it, and from the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of Storee sneaking behind a shelf down below, her stealthy moves not stealthy at all.

My phone beeps in my hand, so I glance at the text from Max.

Max: Green. We need all the green.

Cole: I’m going to call you. Storee is following me around, so just go with whatever I say, okay?

Max: Ha! Okay.

I call Max, and he answers on the second ring just as Storee creeps up the stairs, the creak of the old wood giving away her approach, but I act like I can’t hear it.

“So Storee is trying to get the scoop on what you’re doing?” Max answers.

“Hey man, yeah, I’m here at the hardware store,” I say. “Yup, that’s right.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Ahh, okay. So we’re roleplaying here,” Max says. He clears his throat. “So glad you called, Cole. We need to figure out what we’re doing with the decorations. I’m so scared, so worried, I actually threw up this morning from the nerves.”

“Too much, man.”

He chuckles. “Hey, I’m trying to play a role here, can you not disturb me?”

Ignoring him, I thumb through the storage catalog that Peach has put together and say, “Talked to Paula, and she said they were looking for understated this year. Classic Christmas.”

“Oh shit, she said that out loud? I don’t think Storee’s going to believe it.”

“Yeah, understated, but she also said she liked the fifty-foot Santa. I know, I know, a clash of ideas,” I say. “But I got the feeling she was looking for an impressive blowup to be the centerpiece of the whole design, and then with understated lights around it.”

“She’s going to kill you, man,” Max says on a laugh.

“Do you think fifty feet is big enough?”

“Is that even a thing?” Max asks. “That seems really big, man. You should have gone with twenty.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say. “So, we do the Santa and a snow globe that blows up, the kind that makes all the noise.”

“Are you talking about the one that George Whitmeyer had out on his front lawn that Bob Krampus popped in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, that one,” I say, still thumbing through the catalog as I catch Storee move from one shelf to the other, picking up a candy cane lawn ornament and giving it a good examination from top to bottom.

“Krampus still denies popping that, you know. Even though they have him on camera. Said he’d never do something to destroy the Christmas spirit in town and that someone framed him.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Oh yeah, I heard some people talking about it at Warm Your Spirit, but then Krampus walked in and they all got quiet before saying merry Christmas to him and walking away. I think he knew they were talking about him because his nose got red.”

“Not the nose,” I say, forgetting that I’m supposed to be acting.

“Yup, the nose. It was terrifying, or at least that’s what I heard. Anyway, is she still following you?”

“Yes. Okay, so you want me to get that?” I say as Storee moves toward the stairs again, carefully walking down them.

“The green lights? Yeah, man. Grab them. I have plans.”

“Want to tell me what they are?”

“Let’s just say your house is going to be wrapped up like a bow. I was working on a design with my dad last night. We got this one in the bag.”

“Who won last year? Do you remember?”

“Jimmy Short,” he answers. “He’s the one you need to be concerned about the most. Quite sure he enters the Kringle competition just to get credit for his displays. They’re always phenomenal.”

I grip the back of my neck. “Never seen them.”

“Because you don’t leave your cave during Christmas. Interesting that a girl has you changing your tune.”

“That’s not the reason,” I grumble.

“Uh-huh, you keep telling yourself that.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“Get all the green,” he says right before I hang up.

Storee

I fly into the house, slam the door shut, and then move into the living room, where I draw the curtains, shutting out the light from the outside world.

“What on earth are you doing?” Aunt Cindy says as I cast us into darkness.

I spin around toward Aunt Cindy and Taran, who are both looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

Since I practically sprinted back here, I’m sweating and need to free myself from my winter gear, so I tear off my coat, unravel my scarf, and then toss my mittens and winter hat into a pile on the floor before kneeling in front of the coffee table, staring at my sister and great-aunt.

“I know what he’s doing.”

“You know what who is doing?” Aunt Cindy asks, adjusting her glasses on her nose.

“Cole. I know what he’s planning on doing for his light display. I overheard him talking to Paula in the hardware store.”

“You did?” Aunt Cindy asks, looking hopeful.

I slowly nod. “Oh yes. He had no idea that I was listening in—I pretended to be invested in the curves and structure of a plunger, so much so that now all I can smell is the rubber of it all over me. Want to smell?” I lean toward my sister and aunt, but they both hold up their hands.

“No thanks, we don’t want to smell the plunger on you,” Taran says.

“Okay, well, it’s there. I’m smelling very rubbery right now.”

“You say that as if we should be proud.”

“You should be,” I say. “I did all the sleuthing, and now we have the upper hand because I know exactly what he’s doing.”

“Well, tell us, dear,” Aunt Cindy says. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

I run my hand over the surface of the coffee table. “Okay, get this…he has a fifty-foot blow-up Santa that he plans on centering his entire display around. Paula’s looking for understated, classic Christmas, so I think he’s going to have a few lights, but yeah, it’s all about the Santa, so I think if we take that information and try to figure out…a…way…why are you looking at me like that?”

Aunt Cindy and Taran are both shaking their heads at me.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Taran crosses one leg over the other. “Storee, are you being serious right now?”

“Uh, yeah.” I thumb behind me. “I heard him—he said it several times. He even called Atlas and talked about it with him on the phone.”

Aunt Cindy pinches the bridge of her nose while Taran keeps shaking her head.

“What?” I say, growing annoyed.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Cole was playing you?” Taran asks.

“What do you mean, playing me?”

“Trying to throw you off with misinformation so you try to beat him at, oh I don’t know, a nice game of ‘who has the biggest blowup in their front yard?’”

“I mean…no,” I say. “He didn’t know I was listening.”

“He knew,” Aunt Cindy says. “Trust me, he knew. He’s a smart boy.”

“He didn’t. I was very stealthy about it. He probably thinks I went home with that plunger.”

“Storee, he was playing with you,” Taran says.

“He wasn’t,” I insist, standing my ground.

“He was,” Aunt Cindy repeats.

“No. I swear, I was—”

“Storee,” Taran interrupts. “Blowups are not allowed in town, let alone in the competition. Bob Krampus did away with them a few years ago.”

I look between the two of them. “Are you sure? Because there were some in the store.”

“Probably for out-of-towners,” Taran says.

I bite on my lip. “I don’t know about that. He was really enthusiastic about this fifty-foot Santa. I mean, I was impressed to hear about it. That seems pretty tall, but then I thought, How big is a house? Who knows, maybe it’s one of those house-sized blowups, and I considered getting an even bigger one. I was so busy running back here to tell you the news that I didn’t see if there was one that was bigger than—”

Taran tosses the Kringle competition folder on the coffee table. “It’s in the rules, if you read them. No blowups. All light-up displays must be comprised of mostly lights and garland. Lawn ornaments can only make up about ten percent of the display, so you could have a light-up Santa on your roof and some reindeer, but the challenge is really about how well you can hang and maneuver the lights.”

I stare down at the folder and then back up at them. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Taran says.

I glance over at Aunt Cindy, and she slowly nods, bursting my sleuthing bubble.

I rock back on my heels and feel my entire body sag in defeat.

“That motherfucker,” I whisper.

“Oh dear,” Aunt Cindy says, pressing her hand to her chest.

“Seriously, Storee, did you really think he was going to give away his idea for his light display right in front of you?”

“I don’t know…maybe?” I reply. “I was being sneaky.”

“I’ve seen you try to be sneaky,” Aunt Cindy says. “Trying to scope out your presents over the years. I love you, Storeebook, but you are anything but sneaky.”

I lean back and lie flat on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling. “And here I thought I had the scoop. Damn it.” I clench my fists at my sides. “Well then, what are we going to do? Do you think Paula and Peach really want understated and classic like he said?”

“No,” Taran says. “He was tricking you. Honestly, Storee, are you that gullible?”

“No, I just really believed I’m that good at going undetected. I guess I’m not.” Huffing, I sit up and slam my fist on the coffee table. “We need to seek revenge.”

“Careful on the wood, dear,” Aunt Cindy says. “Taran just polished that for me.”

“Sorry,” I say. “But seriously, what’s the plan?”

Taran pulls out a notebook and opens it up. “Here’s what we have to do…”

“I’m freezing my ass off,” I mutter to Taran as I shiver in my boots, holding on to rows and rows of string lights while she pulls out her tape measure once again.

“It’s not even that cold out,” Taran says as she marks a spot on the house with a piece of chalk.

“Aunt Cindy has a portable heater in front of her,” I counter.

“Because she’s supposed to be on her deathbed, remember? She told me she was getting toasty, so I had to pull her out of the sun and put her in the shade. It’s all about appearances,” Taran says, getting more into this than I expected.

“Why can’t I have a portable heater?” I shiver, the cold tracing all the way down my spine, causing my body to convulse unattractively. “I can’t feel my toes, Taran.”

“We’ve been out here for ten minutes,” Taran says on a huff. “How are we going to get this done if you keep complaining?”

“Um, how are we going to get this done if all you’ve done is measure? We need to start hanging things up,” I say. “Look at Cole and Max—they already have half of the house done.”

“And in a sloppy manner,” Taran says. “Trust me, precision is key when it comes to lights.”

“How do you know?” I ask. “You’ve never hung lights in your life.”

“I hung some on my apartment balcony,” Taran counters. “And people appreciated them.”

“Dear God,” I mutter just as Cole walks up to us…wearing a T-shirt and jeans. What kind of thick-as-shit skin does that man have if he can walk around in a T-shirt in this weather?

“Hey, neighbors.” He waves. That stupid sash we have to wear—which I’m not currently wearing—is draped across his chest. “How’s it going?” He stands right at the base of our porch, smiling and looking far too pleased.

My eyes narrow at him as I attempt to give him my most menacing glare. “Excuse me. Please remove yourself from the premises, as we don’t want our enemy scoping out the competition.”

He looks around, making a real show of it. “What competition?”

What an inflated ass.

“I will have you know we’re well on our way to executing a brilliant light display that will make your retinas burn with its brightness.”

He nods. “Really looks like it. I can’t wait to see how these twenty boxes of lights will look on this little side of the porch.”

I glance down at the lights and then back at him. Will this not be enough? Twenty boxes seemed like a lot, and Taran did the calculations, right? “Well, that’s…uh…that’s not all we have. We have a lot more.”

“Twenty’s all we will need,” Taran says from where she’s still measuring, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrates.

“Twenty, huh?” Cole rocks on his heels. “Really going to burn those retinas then. I’ll be sure to wear my sunglasses whenever I walk by.”

Growing very frustrated, I drop the lights, stomp off the porch, and walk right up to him. “You’ve got a real bad attitude, you know that?” I point at his chest.

He grins. He towers over me as I attempt intimidation, but it doesn’t seem to work on him. “Bad attitude? Oh no, I’m truly excited to see this light display you guys have planned. I can already tell it’s going to be something magical.”

“I know sarcasm when I hear it,” I say, just as a family walks down the sidewalk toward us. Morphing my face into the epitome of Christmas joy, I smile at them and wave. “Good afternoon. Merry Christmas.”

The family ignores me, crosses the street, and heads up the sidewalk to what I’m going to assume is their house.

“Well, that was rude,” I say.

“No, seemed on par,” Cole says.

“What do you mean?”

“That was the Dankworths. They own Baubles and Wrappings, and last I heard”—he snidely smirks—“they’re still mad at you for tipping over their signature tree.”

“Oh my God,” I say. “That was an accident. Over ten years ago. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never tip over a tree on purpose or even know how to tip over a tree.” Why do people in this town hold grudges for so damn long, anyway?

“Running into it at full speed got the job done.”

My expression falls flat as I quietly say, “You weren’t even there; how would you know?”

“I live in this town, Storee. I know everything.”

“Oh yeah?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Then did you know I despise you?”

“Was clued in from the spittle bubble on your lower lip.”

I quickly wipe at my lips and then lift my chin, which of course makes him laugh. “You know, when I first saw you, I thought it might be nice to reconnect since I’d be here for a few weeks, but boy oh boy, was I wrong.”

“You were incredibly wrong,” he says.

“Clearly.” I look him up and down. “Also, using your body as a weapon to win a competition…don’t you think that’s a little beneath you?”

“Not as beneath you as using your aunt’s injury to convince the town she’s on her deathbed.”

I let out a strangled gasp. “How dare you imply—”

“Cut the shit, Storee. We know what you’re doing, and it might work on some, but it won’t work on everyone.”

“Yeah, well, your sad attempt to try to throw me off at the hardware store didn’t work either.” He doesn’t need to know the truth. We’ll keep that just between us.

“Your sleuthing was pathetic.”

“You’re pathetic,” I shoot back as I catch movement from the corner of my eye, spotting Martha and Mae in matching track suits, headed in our direction. I turn toward them, and with my cheeriest smile, I say, “Merry Christmas.”

Blond hair bouncing up and down as they power-walk toward us, they wave as well. “Merry Christmas, Storee. What are you two up to?” Martha asks as she waggles her eyebrows.

Oh, please do not waggle your brows at us. There is absolutely nothing to waggle about—

Before I can finish my thought, Cole wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.

Immediately, the smell of his…is that deodorant? Cologne? Whatever it is, it smells annoyingly good. Really good. Too good for someone who is so…so…sour.

“We’re just hanging out, chatting it up about our light displays,” Cole says in a charming voice, which I think shocks Martha, Mae, and me at the same time.

“Oh, how nice,” Mae says. “It’s so great seeing you two back together. I remember watching you from a distance, back when you’d sit on Cole’s porch, chatting about the holidays and sharing hot cocoa.”

“Eh, I don’t think we ever shared hot cocoa,” I say.

“Not from lack of me trying,” Cole replies with a squeeze to my shoulder.

The twins laugh.

“Oh Cole, always charming. Maybe now that Storee’s back in town, she’ll give you the chance to share a drink this time.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Cole says, and I feel his eyes on me.

What the hell is he up to?

“Oh please, give him a chance,” Martha says, clasping her hands. “Cole is such a good man.”

Uhh…

Please, someone, tell me what’s happening.

“Not only is he handsome, but like Martha said, he’s a very good man. He takes care of all of us around town. And you two would be so cute together.”

“That’s what I keep telling her,” Cole says, nearly making my head explode. “I still have some time—maybe I’ll impress her with my light display.”

“I believe you will,” Martha says with a wink. “Well, enjoy, and don’t hurt yourselves up on the roof.”

Martha and Mae both say their goodbyes, and once their backs are turned toward us, I push away from Cole. “What the hell was that?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“Those are called neighbors,” Cole says. “They tend to say hi to you when they see you out and about on the cul-de-sac. Kind of the nice thing to do.”

“I know what neighbors are, you nitwit. I’m talking about the hot- cocoa-sharing thing.”

“Oh, that.” He shrugs. “I don’t know, spur-of-the-moment decision. Kind of liked it, though, as they love a good romance, and that gave them the impression that you were the one holding out while I was over here trying to get your attention.”

“Uh, yeah, I know. You just made me look bad.”

He shrugs again. “Yeah, but it made me look like the ultimate hopeless romantic, so a win for me.” He pats my shoulder. “Anyway, good luck with the lights, pal.”

“I’m not your pal, and I’m not your…your hot-cocoa-sharing buddy.”

“I know. Martha and Mae are pulling for me, though, so maybe I’ll prevail by the end of this competition. Who knows? Crazier things have happened.” He winks and then turns to take off, but not before I grab his hand and tug him back.

“Do not play with me, Cole Black. You might not like what happens.”

“It’s cute that you’re trying to threaten me.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “What are you going to do, Storee?”

“I’m going to…well…” Nothing comes to mind, so I cross my arms and huff, “You’re just going to have to wait and see.”

He grins. “The anticipation is already eating me alive. Merry Christmas, Storee. May your days be not so merry and bright.”

And with that, he heads toward his house, where Max steps out holding another bin of lights.

Crap.

I rush up to the porch, where Taran is still measuring and Aunt Cindy is nodding off in her chair.

“We need more lights,” I say in a hushed tone, careful not to wake Aunt Cindy.

“I told you, twenty boxes are all we need,” Taran says.

“No, we need more. Trust me, Taran. If we’re going to win this…we need so much more.”