WINTER STUDS Trilogy:
ONE NAUGHTY WINTER NIGHT
by Ruth D. Kerce
copyright © 2006, all rights reserved
Published by EllorasCave.com
Artwork by Syneca
REVIEWS (8)
VIDEO
AWARDS (3)
Chapter One
Kayla rushed around like one of Santa’s less-spirited elves on a sugarplum high, trying to get everything just so. “Hell’s bells.” Christmas was so not her favorite holiday. Only a major case of the holiday guilts had pushed her into a decorating frenzy.
She wrapped garland around the porch railing and set out artificial holly in a pot beside the door. The outdoor lights she briefly thought about hanging over the garage didn’t work. She threw the string out, along with a bag of old candy canes that had melted together sometime during the summer.
“Lucked out. Praise the inadequacies of crappy light assemblers.” She breathed a huge sigh of relief. The thought of tacking anything up so high gave her the heebie-jeebies. And candy canes were not her favorite decoration. Their little necks always broke when she handled them. Talk about depressing!
Anyhow, for someone who put off decorating until the last minute, she hadn’t done half bad. “Looks festive. Well, pretty much.”
Now she was tackling the front door.
For the umpteenth time, she checked her watch. “Darn it.” Kayla Robard—running late as usual. They’d chisel that on her tombstone, for certain. Mentally chastising herself, she made her first resolution for the new year. “I will manage my time better from now on.”
Holding a nail against the wood, she hammered at lightning speed. She didn’t have much time left to get everything together before her best friend, Kyle Winter, was due to arrive.
The hammer glanced off the nail and banged her thumb. “Ow!” Pain exploded up her hand, and before she could stop it, a very unholiday-like word escaped her lips. “Oops, sorry,” she said to no one in particular. She didn’t suppose any holiday nasties were waiting to whisk her down to the dungeons of hell just because her language might be a bit off-color. Still, it didn’t hurt to make certain and issue a quick apology. Served her right anyway. She should have had her mind on what she was doing, and not on Kyle. She raised her hand to her mouth and sucked at the wound.
Self-consciously, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see nosey, old Mrs. Crumbly standing on the porch across the street, shaking her head in disapproval. Thankfully, the stoop remained empty. In fact, the entire neighborhood looked uncharacteristically void of activity, except for two small children trying in vain to form snowballs out of icy slush at the end of the block.
A wire pricked Kayla’s skin, and she glanced with disdain at the circle of fir hanging from her arm. She’d never understood the purpose of putting a wreath on the door. It only scratched the wood up even worse than the nail did or got stolen by the neighborhood kids before she could take it down. However, she’d conform to the tradition. But she did so only because the traditions of the season meant so much to Kyle. And Kyle meant so much to her.
She hung the decoration, trying and failing to get it straight. Something round shouldn’t have a top and a bottom. She stood back, trying to gauge which way it would hang best. If whoever designed the wreath hadn’t loaded it down with poofy ribbons, she could stick it up any which way. “I should have picked a plainer design. I’m not the poofy type.”
As she eyed her handiwork, the cold seeped into her bones. She pulled down the sleeves of her thin sweater, but it didn’t stop the shivers. At least the really ferocious winter storms hadn’t moved in yet. After another unsuccessful wreath adjustment, she gave up. So it hung a little lopsided.
“Good enough.” Her thumb still throbbing, she cursed the evils of hammers and holiday decorations, and dropped the tool into the box at her feet.
Yes, she knew she needed a major attitude adjustment. But after her parents died, her enthusiasm for the holidays pretty much died, too. She would try to make her home feel festive, though. Maybe, eventually, the spirit of Christmas would return to her soul.
A cold breeze hurried her actions, and she rushed inside to get warm. “Brr.” She shut the front door and entered the utility room. Pushing aside a pile of junk in the packed closet, she located the stepladder and carried it into the entry. “One more chore.” After positioning the ladder carefully below the wooden archway leading into the living room, she slowly climbed the three steps, muttering repeatedly, “It’s not that high. It’s not that high.” If she kept saying the words, maybe she’d convince herself of their truth.
She hated heights—ever since she was seven and that little dweeb, Lindsay Taylor, pushed her off a slide. Teetering dangerously on the top step, visions of broken limbs assailed her. She breathed deeply to calm her nerves, reached up, and secured a stiff, artificial sprig of mistletoe to the beam.
The poor branch was nearly leafless from old age and as hard as a head full of hair spray. All the little white berries had long fallen off, leaving the mistletoe naked and not very Christmas-looking. The mistletoe’s sad state made her wonder why she risked life, limb, and good sense to hang it. She shrugged. “Oh, well.” Anyone with an ounce of holiday spirit would recognize what it was.
She carefully stepped down the ladder, her legs shaking like a pair of rubbery noodles. “Done.” Relieved to be on steady ground again, she looked up and studied the sprig. She’d never even received any Christmas kisses under the thing. “Too bad.” Her relationships usually didn’t span the holidays. Strange, now that she thought about it.
She probably should have thrown the mistletoe out long ago with the other Christmas decorations she’d tossed. But mistletoe was another traditional holiday decoration Kyle insisted she have.
If not for him, she would have gotten rid of every last bit of her holiday items by now. Christmas was his favorite time of year, and she hated to see the disappointment on his face whenever he stopped by and her house looked barren of holiday cheer. For his benefit, she did what she could to make it seem like she enjoyed the season as much as he did.
With another glance at the mistletoe, Kayla did acknowledge that somewhere deep down she hoped one day to have “that special someone” to try it out on. Unfortunately, “that special someone” she had in mind only viewed her as a good friend.
She returned the stepladder to the closet, then walked into the living room. The small Christmas tree, tiny box of multicolored bulbs, and sleeve of silver tinsel atop the coffee table caught her attention. “Shoot!” She had forgotten to decorate the scraggly tree. She’d promised Kyle. But she didn’t have the time or inclination right now to do a decent job.
Every year she bought a new artificial Christmas tree, each time purchasing a smaller one, not wanting to put in the effort to decorate the previous years’ larger version. This year the tree was tiny, the smallest she’d been able to find. Still, as little as it was, the job seemed enormous, so she’d put it off. The tree still sat on the coffee table after a week, waiting for her to spruce up its bare limbs.
She doubted she’d even bother with a tree next year. Maybe she’d just put out plastic poinsettias and bake Christmas goodies. That was festive enough for her, even though Kyle would complain. She didn’t know why he cared how she decorated for the holidays anyway. He always drove down to Texas to spend Christmas with his family. But he’d said once that she would never heal emotionally if she kept ignoring what caused her pain.
Unfortunately, the holidays not only brought the pain and memories to the surface, but also left her feeling raw and vulnerable.
Memories.
During her first year of college, her parents had died in a plane crash right before Christmas. As an only child, the accident had left her feeling totally alone in the new school so far from home.
After taking care of the funeral arrangements and putting the house on the market, she’d returned to school to finish her studies and grieve. She’d had nowhere else to go.
Tears gathered behind her eyes. She missed her mother’s nurturing, and her father’s quirky sense of humor and comforting hugs. She’d shed many tears over the past ten years. Memories of joyous Christmas pasts, never to be seen again, made depressing holiday companions.
If it weren’t for Kyle, she wouldn’t even acknowledge the season at all. It would be easier to handle that way. But he was like a little boy when it came to Christmas. How could she disappoint him? Especially after he’d been such a good friend. Without his strength, caring, and companionship, she’d probably be a bag lady right now.
A quick glance at the clock told her the hour was growing late. She’d better put the cookies in the oven if she wanted them ready in time.
Kyle would be over soon to unclog her bathtub drain. It had become a ritual for him to do that for her once a month. Her long hair clogged many a pipe, and she never did have much luck with drain cleaners or getting it out herself. She was a total klutz with things like that.
Okay, so maybe she could get the hair out herself if she really wanted to try, but it gave her a perfect excuse to ask him over. He’d come over just to hang out, if she asked, but she knew he really couldn’t pass up a damsel-in-distress call. It went against his nature.
All Kyle ever asked in return for his monthly de-hairing service was to sample some of her baking. Her heart did a funny little tumble as she recalled him asking for his Christmas cookie reward.
It thrilled her to know that someone enjoyed her sweeter-than-sin creations. Most people ran for the antacid when she brought out her goodies.
Not Kyle. He was her biggest fan. He loved everything she baked, no matter how sweet. Getting sugar-shocked was one of his favorite past-times. The lovable lug.
She fluffed the pillows on the couch, then decided to drag out the vacuum cleaner for a quick carpet run. The machine only picked up every other piece of lint. She needed to ask Kyle to de-hair the roller while he was here. And the sink in the kitchen was leaking a little, too. She shook her head. Sometimes she worried that she depended on Kyle too much. But he enjoyed tinkering, so she knew he wouldn’t mind getting her all fixed up.
When she’d first met Kyle three weeks into her freshman year at college, they’d immediately clicked. Most-likely because she loved horror flicks, and he could never find anyone to go with him to one.
The type of women he dated didn’t care to be scared more witless than they already were. Okay…that was catty. She knew it, acknowledged it, and still thought it.
Kyle could do much better than those boob-babes he had a tendency to date. Kayla didn’t know where he found them, and frankly, she didn’t want to know.
Back then, she’d sneak peaks at him, admiring his body and almost too rugged to be handsome face. She had often fantasized about stripping him bare and having her way with him—still did. What was the harm? Between her fantasies and her vibrator, she slept very well at night.
Their classmates had suspected her feelings, because they were relentless, always making fun of her. And Kyle always came to her rescue. Her hero. He’d call them immature idiots then buy her a large cone of chocolate ice cream at the Student Union.
She didn’t know what she’d do without him.
Now they were both out of school and owned their own spaces. Her job as a computer analyst provided a fairly good income. Along with what was left of the settlement she’d received from the airline, she’d been able to afford the move from an apartment to a real home.
Kyle had landed a good position in a brokerage firm and found a nice condominium not far from her, but Kayla knew a handyman lurked inside him. So whenever a problem cropped up, he was the one she called.
The phone rang, disrupting her thoughts. She turned off the vacuum, then plopped down on the sofa and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Hey, baby. You naked?”
Laughter bubbled up inside Kayla as she recognized the male voice. The greeting that had started out as a joke long ago was now a friendly routine, and the familiarity warmed her heart. “Aren’t I always?”
“I wish.”
“Where are you, Kyle?” She twisted the phone cord around her finger, needing something to do with her hands. Even through the phone line, she ached to touch him. Kayla had vowed back in college not to let Kyle know about the deep feelings she harbored for him. She couldn’t compete with the beauties he dated, so she’d never tried.
Fear also played a large part in her decision. Their friendship was special and any move to change the relationship could damage what they had. She didn’t want to take the chance.
Each year though, her feelings became harder to tamp down, which made her antsy and unsure of what to do. She supposed the fact that they were both older now and neither of them had married, made her wonder if there might truly be hope for them if she made a move.
“I’m on my way over as we speak,” he answered. “I’m running a few minutes late. Didn’t want you to worry. I know how you are.” He chuckled.
“I refuse to apologize for caring about your welfare.” Although Kayla was perpetually late, Kyle rarely was, so she always worried when he didn’t show up on time.
She hoped he didn’t have car trouble again. He was saving up for a black XT-347 with red trim, or some such car with a bunch of letters and numbers in the name. The engine of his current heap kept going out, blowing up, or making alien-like noises. The car’s back bumper had fallen off twice this month alone!
He couldn’t afford the new car quite yet. He wanted to pay cash. So he kept repairing Lemon Drop, as he called it—such an appropriate name for the ailing yellow car. Maybe next year he’d have enough saved.
“Why are you late? Is it the car?”
“Nosey, nosey, nosey,” Kyle answered, his voice laced with humor.
She couldn’t help but smile. When he clicked his tongue loud enough for her to hear over the phone, she knew he wasn’t going to tell her. She could just see him shaking his head, a cute little grin on his face, the dimple in his left cheek begging to be kissed.
The man had way too much charisma for his own good. She’d seen him talk his way out of traffic tickets, into sold-out shows, and around set-in-stone rules and regulations. He always got his way. Little did he know that she’d fantasized more than once about him getting his way with her.
The distant sound of his voice brought her back to the conversation, and she realized she hadn’t been listening. “Sorry, I missed that. What?”
“I said, you’ll find out when you see me. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Okay. I’m going to want the full story, gory details and all. See ya soon.” She hung up and leaned back against the sofa cushions, letting the knowledge that he was on his way soothe her holiday depression.
She felt so blessed to have him as a friend. After her parents died, she withdrew into herself, not socializing at all. Now she didn’t have many friends left and no family. Kyle helped to fill the void. Much to her delight, he wasn’t above acting or looking like a silly fool just to make her smile.
Last year, after Steve dumped her—one more casualty in a long line of failed relationships—she’d called Kyle the same night and cried on his shoulder over the phone. She swore to him that the fates never wanted her to be happy.
Bright and early the next day, Kyle had appeared on her doorstep, dressed like a clown in striped baggy pants, a red nose, and big purple shoes. She’d laughed until her stomach ached.
Then he had taken her to the carnival and won her an armful of stuffed animals. They’d spent the rest of the night naming the assortment of puppies, bunnies, and cuddly bears, which resided in her bedroom to this day. She loved Kyle for doing that, for caring. He always knew how to make her feel better.
She glanced at the mistletoe again and allowed herself to dwell on the fantasy that had filled her days and warmed her nights for years. She hadn’t been with a man in too many months to count, and her hormones were stuck on permanent stand-by. If only some sliver of opportunity would arise for her to express her innermost feelings to Kyle without damaging their current relationship…
He was, and had always been, the man she wanted.
“Oh, well.” Dismissing the mistletoe, undecorated tree, and her thoughts, she pushed up from the couch. She needed to get back to work. She rolled the vacuum into the closet then entered the kitchen.
The cookie dough she’d mixed up earlier sat in a large bowl on the center island, waiting for her to do her “finger magic” as Kyle always called it. His favorite phrase for her baking endeavors. Thank goodness the dough didn’t need to be chilled, or she wouldn’t even be this far along.
Carefully, she shaped the cookies by hand, each with a simple Christmas design. Trees, stars, angels, reindeer—the most difficult. The poor animal turned out looking more like a sick hippo, much to her disappointment.
She thought about tossing the reindeer-wannabe back into the bowl, then changed her mind. Kyle would laugh at it and she loved to hear him laugh. The warm, deep sound always made her ache to throw her arms around him and lose herself in his exuberant passion for life. “Geez, I’m on hormonal overload here. I’ve got to settle down.” If she didn’t, she feared she might just jump Kyle as soon as he came through the door.
She shoved the pan into the oven.
While the cookies baked, she arranged the decorations. She planned on using red and green sprinkles, and vanilla-flavored icing for the toppings.
Kyle loved vanilla. When she’d found out shortly after meeting him, she changed her body spray to vanilla, secretly hoping to spark his interest without being obvious.
He’d never noticed.
“Subtlety doesn’t work with men, I guess.”
Before the first batch of cookies finished baking, the doorbell chimed twice. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Kyle’s signal.
She rushed out to the front door and pulled it open. “Hi!” The sparkle in Kyle’s eyes and his smile brought a familiar joy to her heart. Too bad she couldn’t stay to fully enjoy it. She grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him over the stoop. “Come in. I’ve got cookies!”
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