Santa's Second Chance Part Three by Margo Hoornstra

       Ryan’s arms circled Stephanie’s waist as his warmth pressed against her from behind. “I’m so sorry I disappointed you.”
      Caught off guard, she was at a momentary loss for what to do. His lips nuzzled the side of her throat. Sharp tingles of need and wanting nearly swept her away. To be honest, she’d had her fill of pushing away from him. It would be so easy to simply rest her head on his shoulder, lean into the comfort she always found in his arms.
      Which right now wasn’t an option. If Ryan got all bent out of shape over something so minor as playing Santa for a bunch of harmless senior citizens, how in the world would he react when—if—they faced major decisions in their future? Where to buy a house. How to raise their children. On a deep breath, a mixture of resolve and regret, she eased out of his embrace.
      Letting her go without protest, his arms dropped to his sides. “Too soon?”
      Quick to turn away so he wouldn’t catch sight of unexpected tears, she nodded.
      “I’m really sorry then.” His voice was a low whisper.
      Infused with enough sadness to have her nearly scrambling back to him. “Me too.”
      Silence, oppressive and heavy, settled between them. She busied herself putting away ingredients, rinsing out dirty dishes she stowed in the dishwasher. Finally, she turned his way, leaning against the counter for support.
      “My dad had a short fuse. My mother did too. She’d challenge him when he exploded. Their shouting matches became legendary around the neighborhood.” Her inhale was shaky. “I don’t want that for my life.” Though her voice cracked, she managed to go on. “I can’t live that way, Ryan.”
      “No one’s asking you to.”
      “He’d stalk out of the house, just like you did.” Her face crumbled at the pain of remembering. “The last time, he never came back.”
      “Oh, Steph.” Ryan moved nearer. “That was him. Not me.”
      “Last night, it felt the same.”
      “It never occurred to me to not come back to you. My parents used to engage in shouting matches too. Non-stop. Neither one of them ever left, when maybe they should have.” When she had nothing to say to that, he went on. “What time does the party start?”
      She sniffed back tears before answering. “The luncheon is at one. San— the other festivities and gifts immediately after. Probably around three.”
      “Can we talk about this before you leave?” He hauled in a breath. “I realize just saying I’m sorry and laying out my reasons isn’t going to cut it.”
      The hopelessness in his tone spurred her into defensive mode. “What if what happened last night was just the beginning? I expect us to trust each other. Be able to depend on each other. All the time.”
      “Last night ruined that? I find that hard to believe.”  His hands came out, palms up.  “Look. I made a mistake. Things haven’t been going the greatest at work. A lot more responsibility and less time to finish projects. Not to mention fewer resources than ever before. I was being pushed in all directions there. Then I came home and—”
      “I gave you another job to do.”
      “I was wrong to overreact the way I did.”
      Shaking her head, she didn’t reply. Each and every time her parents fought, she swore to herself when she grew up and got married, things would be different. Anyone who walked out on her would do so only once. Yet, here she was with Ryan. Contemplating forgiving him.
      “My being overwhelmed at work is no excuse for taking it out on you.” He stopped just long enough to take a breath. “For the record, though, I did come back to you. Last night.”
      “And I wouldn’t let you back in.” Warm tears coated her cheeks as she gazed up at him. “That was my fault, and I’m sorry too. If I’m not here to support you, who is?”
      Gentle, caring, his arms came around her. Bringing comfort she sorely needed. “I promise never to walk out on you again.”
      Blue eyes shining with love for her darkened to a cobalt hue, and confirmed everything he told her was true. His lips covered hers like a butterfly touching down on a flower in springtime. Her arms circled his neck as she deepened the pressure of their kiss. Anger, disappointment, hurt, fear all drained away as love for Ryan and hope for their future together surged up to fill the void.
****
      “I should have been thoughtful enough to check with you first.” Still holding tight, she murmured the words as they came up for air. “Instead of offering you up for the job without asking.”
      “It’s really not that big a deal. I overreacted.”
      Arms stroking her back, he folded her against him. Holding her close, the steady rhythm of her breathing soothed him and he closed his eyes on a sigh.
      “It terrified me to see you hanging out there. Almost falling. That took guts.”
      “Not really. Just stupid desperation. Plus, I have to say, I was more than a little terrified myself.”
      Her giggle vibrated against his chest. “Either way, I now know the lengths you’ll go to in order to get my attention.”
      Blowing out a shaky breath, he pulled back to meet a warm brown gaze filled with love, and his own vision blurred. “We both do now.”
      She reached up to caress the dampness on his cheek. “I couldn’t stand to ever lose you.”
      Emotion clogged his throat and he drew her closer still while his heart soared. “I couldn’t stand to let you go.”
      “I wouldn’t allow you to.” Keeping her hold around his neck, she glanced over his shoulder and out the side window. “That particular Santa suit is toast, I’m afraid.”
      Without releasing her, he turned toward the bright red, sodden mess, still securely attached to the balcony above. Frozen stiff and solid as it flapped back and forth in a driving wind.
      “Good thing I called to reserve another one in my size. The one I’m going to purchase.”
      Brown hair swished over her shoulders as her head turned his way. “The one you’re going to what?”
      His lips brushed her temple. “Purchase. I’m buying myself a Santa Claus suit.”
      “You plan to make a career of playing the role?”
      “Every year.”
      Arms wrapped tighter, she relaxed into him. “Every year?”
      “Every year they, and you, will have me.” With a grin that felt fabulous, he checked the digital clock on the stove. “We have just enough time to pack up the cookies, pick up the suit and make it to lunch. But, first…”
      Head lowered, he brought his mouth down to seal his vow with a kiss.

       Join us here tomorrow for another great Christmas short story by Leah St. James! Also, please visit my website.

Santa's Second Chance Part Two by Margo Hoornstra

        Slipping his room temperature sweat pants over body parts on the verge of frostbite, Ryan whooshed out a long, appreciative sigh. Stephanie had handed the clothes over just in time. He was about to lose the battle to keep his teeth from chattering. Definitely not the way a totally in charge male acted around the woman he loved. The one who hadn’t let him freeze to death after all.
      It was a tossup whether he was more relieved to be out of the bone chilling cold. Or grateful that Stephanie had forgiven him enough to let him back in to their apartment. On second thought, no contest. Possible forgiveness won. He chanced a quick glance her way as he pulled the sweatshirt over his head.
      Long brown hair framing a flawless complexion, an adorable, turned up nose, moist and delicious lips. A delicate chin that had notched up in defiance more than once since they’d moved in together. The sleek, inviting throat, gently sloping shoulders…
      “Is that better?”
      His head came up at her question. Further thoughts scattered. “Much. Thank you.”
      Thick, sweeping lashes rimmed beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that had charmed him from day one, and held him captive ever since. Eyes staring, narrowed and wary, as she squared up before him now.
      Icy knots of fear gripped him. Ten-fold what hit there when he’d nearly lost it and sailed over the railing a few moments ago. Since rappelling down from the apartment above, he’d assumed she forgave him. As he’d recently learned, living by assumption could be dangerous. He wasn’t about to venture down that slippery slope again.
      None the less, being this close after spending one night without her, all he could do was jam both hands in the pockets of his sweat pants. That way, he’d be much less likely to wrap her in his arms and kiss her senseless.
      “I put my heart and soul into our recent discussions about marriage. Shared my expectations and my fears.”
      “No more than I did.” He couldn’t help his defensive tone. Pausing to swallow, he took a breath and fought to soften the rest of it. “All I was doing last night was taking a break. Things were spiraling out of control. I didn’t know how to make it stop.”
      “Me either.”
      With a giant step toward her, he opened his mouth to launch into the apology he’d rehearsed to perfection during his all-nighter. His arms lifted to reach for her. “Stephanie. I—”
      A buzzer, blaring from the kitchen drowned him out.
      She was quick to turn her back on him, as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity. “My cookies are done. Angel wings. Very delicate.” Hurrying away, she flung more information behind her. “Only a couple of minutes of over baking can burn them.”
      Even if they did, whatever she had in the oven would sure taste a heck of a lot better than the crow he’d come down here to eat. Hands coming out of his pockets, he padded after her. Past the apartment sized drop leaf table flanked by two chairs, one at either end.
      He’d done the exact same thing last year at this time. Followed her into the kitchen, rather showed up there whenever she was bustling around in it. Coming from a family where the holidays were merely another opportunity for more heartache rather than joy, he fed off Stephanie’s strict adherence to holiday traditions. Being part of anything to do with this woman filled a need in him he wasn’t willing to give up.
      As always when Stephanie was in the kitchen cooking and baking, the place was a direct hit. Open bags of flour, white sugar and brown stood on the counter. The lid was up on a half empty egg carton. Two measuring cups, one big and one small, sat beside a large, green mixing bowl. Small containers of spices were lined up beside that.
      Last year, their first Christmas living together, he was a big part of the holiday preparations. Shopping. Baking. Wrapping. Laughing. Loving.
      Last year on Christmas Eve….
      They’d made the cookies together, gone to see her grandma, a friendly, gracious woman who made no secret of her fondness for both of them.
      “He’s a keeper, Stephanie Dear. Don’t ever let this one go.” Eyes dark and warm like her granddaughter’s, the comment was bestowed in a stage whisper from behind a frail hand. To which the love of his life had replied, “I don’t intend to, Grandma. Ever.”
       After that, they’d shared dinner, laughed at the antics of the poor sucker all dressed up, pretending to be Santa. The same one who had agreed to play the role this year. Until he broke his leg on a downhill ski run. Stephanie asked Ryan to fill in at the last minute. Actually, she’d assumed he would without asking. Just brought the darned suit home with her.
      Because she hadn’t checked with him first, his initial response was refusal. Then he figured he’d get points for trying the thing on. He also figured once he was in it, she’d see what he was talking about, how silly he looked. Understand why he wasn’t cut out to play Santa. She didn’t.
      In the end, he came off like some damned Grinch.
      “Why wouldn’t you do this for me?” Eyes glistening with tears that shocked the heck out of him, she didn’t wait for an answer, just turned her back on him, flinging a sharp, “Never mind!” over her shoulder.
      “It’s not that I’m being selfish.” His defense sounded pretty shallow, and he’d cut himself off. Caught up in his own argument, he had to admit, that’s exactly what he was being. Selfish. By then their disagreement had reached the point of no return. Fueled by idiotic pride, he’d stormed out wearing the rented Santa suit. Hard to believe his stupidity at not leaving his street clothes on underneath. It was a miracle he’d taken the two extra seconds required to slip into his running shoes.
      Not that he had to hurry. It wasn’t as if Stephanie had been in hot pursuit begging him to stay. Quite the contrary. Arms crossed over her chest, lips a tight line and back stiff, she didn’t move as he headed out. Just uttered words akin to good riddance as he was about to shut the door. As it was, he’d neglected to take his wallet and keys. Bad idea, when she’d promptly locked him out.
      The oven door slammed shut.
      Wielding the wide metal spatula, she transferred the light golden cookies onto a wrought iron cooling rack. “They’re so delicate. You have to work fast with these.” She could have been talking to herself. Probably was.
      He answered her anyway. “They came out perfect.”
      A sidelong glimpse at him was the extent of her reply.
      Sloughing off the rebuke, he kept talking. “But then, when you make them, they always do. They go in here?” He lifted a foil lined gift box off the counter.
      She gave a hasty glance up, but kept working. “Yes.”
      At least he’d gotten her attention. No doubt because she was afraid he’d wreck the gift container somehow. Like he’d wrecked their Christmas Eve. “I thought so.”
      “Not until after they cool.” She slipped the last cookie onto the rack. The spatula clinked as she set it on the counter.
      Silently, he edged toward her. Before she had a chance to turn around, he made his move.
      
       Join me here tomorrow for Part Three of Santa's Second Chance! Also, please visit my website.

Santa's Second Chance Part One by Margo Hoornstra

        She’d never seen a Santa suit used in quite that way. One red velvet pant leg was tied to a matching sleeve and suspended from the railing above like bed sheets knotted together for a jail break. What was more amazing, dangling spread eagle from the fur tipped end of the other sleeve was a man. A nicely-developed man.
      Against her better judgment, Stephanie strode across her living room toward the sliding glass door for a better look. He was hanging there buck naked, except for a pair of bright white skivvies, matching crew socks, and high end running shoes.  About to drop onto her third floor balcony.
      Surprise, curiosity, even amusement rippled through her. Oddly, fear was nowhere to be found. Why should it? He certainly had no place to hide a weapon. As she edged closer, a brisk blast of wind howled by. Caught unaware, legs flailing, he catapulted outward with nowhere to go but over the rail then down.
      Palms pressed to her cheeks, her mouth gaped open. For a split second Stephanie forgot to breathe.
      Eyes wide, she finally exhaled on a gasp.  “No!”
      Outside the glass, bare legs pumped wildly, tight together then apart. Like an Olympic gymnast preparing for a well-practiced dismount, on one final heave of body and limbs, he landed with a thump. Feet going in opposite directions on the ice slicked surface, he finally jolted to a stop. His death grip on the suit loosened and he let go. Firmly attached to the balcony above, bright red fabric flapped up and out on more wintery gusts. His back was to her as he stilled. Probably needing a moment to collect himself. Unable to help it, she completed a hasty one, two appraisal. Solid legs sprinkled with dark hair, a nice, tight tush. Muscled back. Broad shoulders. Well-structured arms. All turning around to face her!
      Full attention jerked up to his face, she immediately locked gazes with eyes the clear blue of a sun kissed glacier. That disturbing indigo gaze regarded her with swift recognition.
      Good God. I’m not ready for this.
      Regardless, she had to do something. Not only was the temperature well below zero, insult to injury was at play. Icy raindrops showered down in a sudden rush, hitting like tiny shards of glass. That has to be painful on bare skin. Once frostbite set in, the results could be devastating. Plus, it was Christmas. Her favorite holiday always brought out the Good Samaritan in her.
      Without a second thought, she unhooked the latch and slid open the door. “You need to get inside before you freeze.”
      “Good idea.” Sliding at first, he recovered himself to walk toward her.
      She quickly backed up so he could step inside.
      A grin flashed as he slid the door shut behind him. “Told you we’d meet again real soon.”
      Exactly what he’d said from outside her door the night before. When he tried to initiate a conversation she wanted no part of at the time. She’d hurried into the bedroom and turned the radio on to drown him out, doing her very best to ignore him.
      There was no ignoring him now. “I’ll give you that. Now that you’re here, I’d like you to leave.”
      The smile vanished. Those impressive eyes widened in surprise before his gaze dropped. “Like this?”
      His arms came out to the sides like some model on the runway giving the hard sell of a well-fitting suit. Except, there was no suit. Or clothes of any kind save the tighty whiteys. Powerless to resist, she joined him in the impromptu visual journey. The front view was definitely better than the back. Hard to believe those shoulders appeared even broader. A rock hard chest, six pack abs, cut short by the waist band of his briefs…
      “Surely you wouldn’t throw me out like this.”
      Her regard snapped back to his face. The grin had returned, along with a definite glint in those hypnotic eyes.
      “Don’t be so sure.” One hand came up to clutch together the opened collar of her red button down blouse. Taking a breath, she prayed her cheeks weren’t glowing to match.
      “I stayed with a buddy of mine last night.”
      As if she gave a rip where he’d spent the previous night. “Really.”
      “He lives in the apartment directly above this one.” Hands clasped in front of him, he shrugged. “One thing led to another, and here I am.”
      “Do say.” More irrelevant information shared. It seemed he was compelled to keep talking. Releasing her grip on the blouse, she swept her arm out toward where he’d come from. “Did your friend put you up to this?”
      He shook his head. “Totally my idea.”
      Why doesn’t that surprise me?
      “I figured arriving like this would give us a chance to talk.”
      Shifting her weight to a more solid stance, she folded both arms over her chest. “Are you serious?”
      “Absolutely.” Even white teeth flashed, the mirth of this smile just missing his eyes. “Unless you have somewhere you need to go. A date maybe?”
      “I thought I had a date for this afternoon. It got cancelled.”
      “Which means you’re available?” He took a step toward her.
      She moved an equal distance back. “Not necessarily.”
      The glimmer in that hypnotizing gaze dimmed, and he stopped short. “I swear I don’t intend to hurt you.”
      She stared at him through narrowed eyes. “That’s your opinion.”
      Face aimed toward the kitchen, he sniffed. “Something smells good.”
      She took her eyes off him long enough to glance that way. “I’m making cookies.”
      “What kind?”
      “Christmas cookies.”
      “What kind of Christmas cookies?”
      “All kinds.” Starting to give him a rundown of the varieties she took pride in baking and sharing every year, she clamped her mouth shut.
      “To take to the local nursing home.”
      “Assisted living facility.” Her lower lip came out. “Where my grandmother, the only surviving relative I have, resides.”
      Grin completely gone, gaze dark and serious, he actually winced as her words sunk in. “You got your tree up.”
      She didn’t bother to look over at the six foot artificial fir sparkling from the corner. “Last night. I couldn’t sleep.” The shrug she followed up with was meant to convince him a sleepless night didn’t bother her at all.
      “Same thing happened to me last night. Tossed and turned. When I wasn’t tossing and turning, my mind was revved up. Running a mile a minute. My buddy’s couch wasn’t all that comfortable or nearly big enough.”
      Despite her sensible side putting up a show of resistance, the rest of her, the part which contained her heart, had no trouble coming up with the picture he painted. Him stretched out, full length on his back. Right arm cocked behind his head, left resting on his stomach. Eyes focused on the ceiling.
      A head shake to dispel the image failed her. To banish it once and for all, she glanced over at the tree. Red, green, yellow and blue lights winked at her from within its snow-flocked branches.
      “Not only did I not sleep well last night. I didn’t realize how cold it was outside until I was halfway down.”
      At the sound of his voice, her gaze swung back toward him. Solid biceps flexed as he hugged his arms over a broad chest.
      Wrapped inside of them was like being home.
      Hot tears threatened, a lump edged up to the back of her throat. On a quick breath, she looked away.
      “It’s also pretty cold in here.” He actually shivered then bounced from foot to foot.
      “I might have something you can put on.” For your comfort or mine?
      With one final glance, she turned away to walk to the other side of the living room then reached behind the half opened bathroom door. Lifting the dark blue sweat pants and shirt off the hook, she drew them out then returned to hand them over.
      “Thanks.” As he reached out, their fingers brushed. Heat formed.
      She drew back first. “You’re welcome.”
      The clothes fit perfectly as he slipped into them.
      Why not? They belonged to him.

       Join me here tomorrow for Part Two of Santa's Second Chance! Also, please visit my website.