Jonathan startles as if he’s been slapped. I can’t help the laugh that slips out of me. Or my face flushing when Ryatt slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. His cinnamon bark, melted marshmallows, and warm brown sugar smell filling my nostrils. He smells like freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies and I might have a new favorite cookie.
Ryatt doesn’t miss a beat or slow down as he leans from side to side, taking in the sad display behind my floundering boss. I don’t know why or how, but I have this feeling that what's going to happen next is going to silence Jonathan for the rest of the day.
“Are you trying to give kids nightmares with this horror film version of the sweetest lady to ever exist? Whoever designed that shouldn’t be allowed near decorationseveragain.”
A laugh barks out of me as my hand flies up to try to muffle the sound. Ryatt tilts his head down, giving me a wink before he looks back at my boss. Remember how I said he was an angrytea pot earlier? Welp, he’s officially flaming red and vibrating. Yikes!
“I’ll have you know…” Jonathan starts, but Ryatt doesn’t even give him a chance before he’s holding up his hand.
“Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of it.”
We all turn to look at the display, confusion clouding my mind as I take in the entirely different display. Instead of the horror display, now there stands a beautiful version of Mrs. Claus holding a pan full of cookies that look so real I almost want to touch them to confirm. There’s a beautiful wooden island behind her covered in trays and trays of cookies. The details in this display feel so authentic, as if this kitchen really is hers and we are seeing a glimpse of it.
“How did you…” I breathe out as my eyes scan the entire display. There isn’t a single piece of the old display. Where did it all go? He didn’t move. Did he talk to someone before showing up with the hot cocoa? There’s no way. It’s not even been that long since we were in each other's arms outside.
“When did you…How…” I can’t seem to form a single sentence to save my life.
He leans down, his nose skimming through my hair as his breath tickles my ear. “Don’t worry Berry, I’ll explain it one day.”
“Berry?” I whisper, mortified as my cheeks flare. “That’s… not my name.”
Ryatt just smiles, infuriatingly calm.
“Your cheeks go red like holly berries,” he murmurs. “It fits.”
Jonathan lets out a huff, groaning as his hands run down his face. His cheeks are redder than Rudolph’s nose blinking from the display beside him and I’m pretty sure I just saw three new gray hairs pop in his luscious golden brown locks. He’ll freak when he sees those later.
He points at Ryatt. “If Mr. December here thinks he can do it so much better than me, fine, go for it.” He swings his bodytowards mine, poking the air between us. “And you! We have a little over an hour before the eleven o’clock Meet with Santa. You better hustle your way over there because we willnothave another disaster on the roster for today.”
With that he whirls around, stomping off through the employee doors, mumbling about entitled handsome men and their fitted suits. Both Ryatt and I look at each other before we both burst out laughing. I’m laughing because I’ve always dreamed of telling him exactly where to shove it. Ryatt though? I’m not sure why he’s laughing.
My laughing subsides as I walk towards the display that only moments ago was Fear Street and now is the embodiment of what I’d imagine Mrs. Claus’s kitchen would be. I can almost see Ryatt standing next to her at the island, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he rolls out another ball of dough. Finger streaks of flour across his forehead as he smiles fondly at something Mrs. Claus said.
There’s something about the scene that feels so real, as if the movie scene is playing out in my mind. What I wouldn’t give for a pad of paper and a pen to write down this exact scene. Shaking my head, I try to stop imagining Ryatt, this perfect stranger doing anything. I don’t even get a chance to before his hand lands on my lower back, the warmth seeping through every single layer of clothing. Not even my shapewear can tamper the feeling of him being so close to me.
We both stare at the display as we move closer to it, my eyes flicking every direction trying to capture the entire picture.
“She’s stunning,” I whisper in awe. “I’ve never seen a version of her that looks like this. She looks so real, as if this is a perfectly captured moment of her life.”
I turn to Ryatt as his eyes round in adoration while he stares at Mrs. Claus.
“She truly is amazing and the heartbeat of the North Pole. Without her, I don’t think Christmas would ever be on time.”
He says it with such certainty it makes me pause. Like he isn’t talking about a myth or a legend—but about someone he actually… knows.
“You say that like you’ve met her,” I blurt before my brain can stop me.
Ryatt just gives me that small, warm, infuriatingly secretive smile—the kind that makes it feel like he’s in on some private Christmas joke no one else gets. Least of all me.
“You sound like—”
“Holly, you have to hurry. Someone knocked over the reindeer and if Jonathan sees it, I’m pretty sure he will murder all of us.” Emmilene, one of our newest elfs, says as she races over to where I’m standing, the bells on her booties ringing as each foot hits the ground.
“I’ll be right there,” I sigh. It’s always something, every single day. I swear if I didn’t love this holiday, and need the money, I’d have walked out already.
I turn back around to Ryatt, who is far closer than I thought he would be, and hold out my hand for him to shake.
He stares at it for a moment as if he’s never seen a handshake, or maybe he just doesn’t understand why I’m holding my hand out to shake? Slowly, his hand comes up to mine and the second our hands connect that same weird electrical current races up my arm. It feels as though it slams into my heart, jolting it and speeding it up at the same time. I look from our joined hands to his ridiculously handsome face before I shake myself out of it.
