Chapter 10 Curated Holiday Explosion
Curated Holiday Explosion
Istood in my kitchen rereading the small white card tucked into the vase of red and white flowers I’d carried home from work. The golden lettering practically twinkled up at me: “You picked the perfect tree. Now let’s make it shine.”
My stomach flipped in a way that irritated me beyond reason. No signature, but who else would it be from? The reindeer men. The nine magical men who had crashed into my life with all the subtlety of a Christmas parade through a library.
I set the card down and traced the edge of a petal, memories of last night’s kisses flashing through my mind like some kind of festive slideshow I couldn’t shut off. Pierce’s gentle touch. Vix’s hungry mouth. The way I’d let both of them consume me.
The doorbell chimed a jaunty rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” interrupting my thoughts. Yesterday, that would have made me contemplate ripping it off the wall. Today, it only made me roll my eyes. Progress, I supposed.
I opened the door to find Don and Blitz on my doorstep, each clutching sacks large enough to smuggle small children. Don’s massive frame filled the doorway like a gentle giant, while Blitz bounced on his heels beside him, practically vibrating with energy.
“We come bearing decorations!” Blitz swept past me into the house before I could protest.
Don followed, ducking slightly like he might bump his head, a soft smile warming his eyes. “Hello, Neve.”
“Hi.” I felt unexpectedly shy as I closed the door.
My body and brain needed to get the memo that these men were off-limits. Like, priority overnight delivery, certified mail, return receipt requested, whatever it took to make the message stick. Because apparently, my self-preservation instincts had taken a holiday vacation along with my good sense.
I watched as they deposited their haul on my living room floor. They wore matching red T-shirts with Tree Team emblazoned across the chest in glittering gold letters. Did these guys all get together and have a shirt-making party?
Blitz opened his sack, pulled out a box labeled Tree Magic, and opened it with a dramatic flourish. “Prepare yourself for transformation, Neve North.”
“Is the matching outfit thing going to be a regular occurrence? Because I draw the line at wearing anything with pom-poms.”
Don’s quiet chuckle rumbled through the room. “We’re honestly pretty restrained today.”
“This is restrained?” I arched an eyebrow, noticing the way Don’s shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. The man was built like a redwood.
“You should see our ugly sweater collection.” Blitz’s sharp features softened into a grin that made something warm and unwelcome curl in my belly.
“I’d rather eat coal.”
“That can be arranged.” Blitz dug through his bag, pulling out strings of lights that seemed to shimmer even unplugged. “We know a guy.”
Don moved to the tree that Pierce and Vix had set up. He circled it thoughtfully before kneeling to examine the trunk. “A good solid tree.”
I pointed at the bags they were carrying that looked very similar to Santa’s sack. “Let’s get on with whatever holiday explosion you’ve brought.”
Blitz shot me a look of mock offense. “Excuse me, this is a curated holiday explosion.”
I wandered closer, peering into Blitz’s bag. “Did you rob a Christmas store?”
“Only the good parts.” Blitz stepped closer. He smelled like cinnamon and pine, and I wanted to bury my face against him. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you. First timer and all.”
“I’m not a first timer.” I shifted my weight and frowned. “I’ve decorated trees before.”
Both men exchanged a look, and Blitz’s fingers brushed mine as he handed me a silver ornament. The touch sent a tiny spark up my arm. “Not since you were fifteen, right?”
“How do you know that?” The ornament trembled in my fingers.
Blitz gave a half-shrug, but the casual gesture didn’t match the intensity in his eyes. “Just a guess.”
It wasn’t a guess. His knowing look cut through me like he’d been flipping through my diary.
Shaking my head, I held up the silver ornament, and it caught the light, sending prism-like reflections dancing across my walls. Something about the way the pattern of light sparkled and refracted pulled at me, tugging a thread of memory I didn’t know existed.
The great hall. Massive ceilings. A tree stretching toward the sky.
My breath caught as images flooded my mind. Not soft, warm childhood memories that had been trickling back, but something sharper. Harder.
I was fifteen, awkward and furious, standing before an enormous pine. My hands outstretched, trembling with effort as I tried to make the ornaments float onto the branches like I’d seen my father do.
“Focus, Neve. Channel your intention.” A tall figure stood beside me, disapproval dripping from every perfect angle of their posture.
The ornaments shook, rose slightly, then crashed to the marble floor, shattering into a thousand glittering shards.
“Perhaps we should try again tomorrow.” Their voice was crisp with annoyance.
Ice spread from beneath my feet, crackling across the polished floor.
I inhaled sharply, dropping the ornament. Don’s hand shot out, catching it before it hit the ground.
“You okay?” His voice wrapped around me like a blanket.
I nodded too fast, air sticking in my lungs. “Yeah. I just got dizzy.”
Don didn’t press. He gave me a look that felt like it saw more than it should, then gently placed the ornament back in my hand. “This one belongs near the top.”
Blitz didn’t joke, didn’t tease. For once, his usual sparkle dimmed slightly as he watched me. “It’s coming back faster, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because, yes, something was cracking open inside me, and I didn’t know what would come out once it shattered.
Instead, I turned toward the tree, lifted the ornament, and carefully placed it near the highest branch I could reach. It caught the light again, scattering fragments across the room, and for a moment, it almost felt like magic.
I turned back to the bags of decorations strewn across my living room floor, curious despite my determination to remain aloof. “So, what’s the plan here?”
Blitz’s face lit up as he pulled out his phone. “First, we need the proper ambiance.”
He tapped the screen a few times, and my Bluetooth speaker came to life with “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” The melody was jazzier than the version I knew.
“Music is non-negotiable.” Don began methodically untangling a string of warm white lights, his hands moving with surprising delicacy. “These go on first.”
I reached for the other end of the lights. “I’ll help.”
We worked in a weird, comfortable silence for a few minutes. Don led the way around the tree, his height allowing him to reach the uppermost branches while I managed the middle sections.
Blitz circled behind us, fluffing branches with theatrical precision. “This one’s a little droopy. And this one needs more... poof.”
“Is ‘poof’ the technical term?” I handed Don the last section of lights.
Blitz tilted his head, expression tightening as he focused on a stubborn branch. “I have a PhD in Christmas Tree Aesthetics.”
“From which university? North Pole State?” It was supposed to be a joke, but something told me I wasn’t wrong.
Don’s mouth pulled into a slow smile, and Blitz let out a bright laugh that somehow matched the music perfectly.
“Pole Tech.” Blitz waved an invisible pennant flag. “Go, Snowmen!”
I snorted, not knowing if he was joking or being serious. I reached into one of the bags and pulled out a glass bird. It sent rainbow prisms dancing across my hands. Something about it felt... familiar.
Don appeared at my side, gently taking a heavy, intricately carved wooden ornament from another bag. “These go toward the bottom. For balance.”
“There’s a science to this,” Blitz insisted, pulling out a shimmering gold ball. “Spatial distribution, color theory, and weight distribution. It’s very serious business.”
I hung the glass bird on a middle branch. “And here I thought all I had to do was throw stuff on until it looked pretty.”
“That’s for amateurs.” Blitz dramatically placed his gold ornament, then stepped back to assess. “See? Already the lower left quadrant is gold heavy.”
“The tree has quadrants now?” I smiled in amusement as I reached for another ornament.
“You can’t just hang things willy-nilly, Neve.” Blitz’s feigned seriousness made Don’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
The playlist shifted to “Santa Baby,” and Blitz immediately began singing along, shimmying his shoulders in a ridiculous dance that made me laugh out loud. The sound surprised me. When was the last time I’d laughed like that?
I reached up to place a snowflake, suddenly aware of how warm I felt. My cheeks flushed, and sweat prickled at my hairline. “It’s getting way too hot in here.” I walked over to flip on the ceiling fan.
When I turned back, Don and Blitz were exchanging a look. Don raised his eyebrows, and Blitz gave an almost imperceptible shrug.
“What?” I planted my hands on my hips.
“Nothing.” Blitz grinned. “I was wondering if you were going to accuse us of tampering with your thermostat next.”
I rolled my eyes, reaching back into the bag. “Let’s finish this tree before I change my mind.”
We continued decorating, the tree slowly transforming into something that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. Even I had to admit it was beautiful.
“I think the right side needs another red one.” I pointed to a bare patch.
Blitz gasped dramatically. “She’s getting into it, Don! Quick, document this historic moment!”
I spotted a perfect red ornament and reached for it just as Blitz’s hand shot out. Our fingers tangled around the sphere.
“I saw it first!” Blitz tugged playfully.
“It’s my tree!” I pulled back, laughing.
“Children, please.” Don reached into the fray, but his foot caught on the edge of my area rug.