A Very Merry Mess (Cider Cove Sweet Southern RomComs #3)

Ryanne

RYANNE

I’m up to my elbows in cookie dough when I hear the commotion outside. My mom and sisters chatter away about Anna’s pregnancy and Cosette’s upcoming baby shower, but I tune them out as I strain to hear what’s happening on the front porch. Something bangs, and that gets my heart pumping.

“What in the world?” my mom says, interrupting my sister for the first time ever and moving to the mouth of the hallway. “They’re back already? That can’t be true.”

I wipe my hands on a dish towel and rush past her, my goal the front door, my heart racing. Something’s wrong; I can feel it. As I fling open the front door, I’m hit with a wall of cold air and the most putrid smell I’ve ever encountered.

“Fish and chips,” I gag, covering my nose with my sleeve. “What is that?”

And then my dad moves to the side, and Elliott emerges. He looks like he’s been through a war with nature itself, and he’s being half-carried, half-dragged up the steps by Danny and Rob. Snow and pine needles cake his clothes, and there’s a nasty-looking scratch across his cheek. But worst of all is the smell. A skunk has definitely decided to use him as target practice.

“What happened?” I demand, glaring at my dad who’s already on the porch, looking sheepish.

“Well, honey,” he starts.

But I cut him off with, “I can’t believe you.” I swat at his chest, and he has the decency to flinch away from me. “You—let—a—skunk—spray—him?”

“It was an accident.”

“Like someone would want to get sprayed on purpose,” I fire back.

“I can’t believe he didn’t see them,” Rob said as he helps Elliott over to one of the chairs on the porch. “It was a whole skunkeriffic family.”

“They were pretty plain,” James agrees. “Black against white, you know?”

I don’t see how this is helping. “Wasn’t he with you?”

“He’d, uh, fallen behind,” Rob says. They have no Christmas tree on the empty sled, and the four of them stand there like they don’t know what to do next.

“Close the door,” Mom says behind me. “It’s freezing—oh, it’s a skunk. Turn on the fans; get out the candles.”

“Mom.” I spin toward her. “We have to clean up Elliott.”

“Guest house,” she calls as Anna literally closes the door in my face.

I turn back to the men in my family. Dad offers a tiny smile. “We have to go back out and get the tree, so…”

“Fine, go.” I play a drumroll on Danny’s chest too. “You—I trusted you to take care of him.”

“He’s fine,” Danny said, though he casts a worried look over to Elliott. He still hasn’t moved or spoken, and he stares straight ahead, his glasses sitting a little askew on his face. “You know the drill.”

“And good news,” Dad says. “All the skunk stuff is in the shed—uh, the guest house.”

“Perfect.” I fold my arms, my internal temperature falling rapidly. I’m not wearing a coat, and an apron certainly isn’t adequate protection against a New York winter.

They go, and I turn toward my boyfriend. “Elliott,” I say softly as I approach. “Are you okay?”

He looks up at me, his eyes a bit unfocused, and manages a weak smile. “I’m fine, Ry. Just had a little…encounter with the local wildlife.”

I brush his hair off his forehead. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm even though I’m seething inside. How could they let this happen?

He’d fallen behind .

I scoff at the lack of care the males in my family offered to Elliott. “Can you stand?”

He nods and slowly rises to his feet. I help him out to the shed-guest-house, then ease off his coat at the corner of it, wincing at the smell that seems to have permeated every fiber. “I think these clothes are a lost cause,” I mutter.

“Definitely,” Elliott agrees, his voice muffled as I help him pull his sweater over his head. He gets off his own shoes, socks, and pants, and we leave everything stinking on the sidewalk as I hurry him toward the door in only his boxer shorts.

Once inside, I try not to stare at his bare chest, focusing instead on the task at hand. “Okay, um, you should shower. I’ll get the de-skunking supplies and meet you in there.”

“In the bathroom?”

“Yes. Open the window and use lukewarm water. Don’t wash your hair or anything yet. I’ll mix up the vinegar and baking soda, and I’ll come in and cake it on your skin and hair.” I peer at him, the door open behind us to keep the guest house ventilated. We have to sleep here, after all, and I can stoke up the fire and warm it up easily later.

“Did it get in your eyes?”

“No,” he says. “I buried my face in the snow at the last second. I think it just hit my back—so it’s all in my hair and all over my clothes.”

“Easy peasy then,” I say as brightly as I can. “We’re so eating M he’s in the shower.” An idea forms in my head, and I seize onto it. “We’re just going to hang out here until the tree decorating.” I lift my chin, daring them to argue with me.

Anna steps over and hugs me. “We figured.” She gives me a kind smile, which confuses me for a moment. It’s not like we’re best friends, and we’ve definitely had our share of disagreements over the years. She’s always right, and everything is her way or the highway. So this feels…a little weird. “He’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” I say as I pull back. “Thanks for the food.”

“Text me if you need anything else,” Cosette says. “I made sure there’s hot chocolate stuff in the cupboards here.”

“Oh, I haven’t looked.”

“It’s there.” She grins at me and gestures for Anna to leave with her. They do, sealing me back in the guest house with a skunky Elliott.

“Ry?”

I spin again, my adrenaline getting a workout today. “Yeah?”

“Clothes?”

“Yeah, yep, I got them for you.” I hurry over to the couch and swipe them up.

He exits the bathroom, a fluffy blue towel tied around his waist. “Smell me.”

“An interesting demand,” I say.

He grins too, though he seems…dimmer than usual. More subdued. “I have plenty more where that came from.” He leans down. “I can’t tell if I still smell. It’s like my nose is ruined.”

“Skunks can do that.” I lean one palm into his shoulder while I press his clothes to his chest and tip up to smell his hair. “Not bad,” I say.

“Just what every man wants to hear,” he says dryly. “You don’t smell bad.”

“It’ll only last a couple of hours,” I tell him. “And my sisters brought food, and the fire’s raging. We’re just going to lay in bed and eat M&Ms and put something on your phone that’ll make you forget about skunks.”

Elliott looks at me for a long moment, then takes his clothes and goes back into the bathroom. When he comes back out a minute later, I indicate the bed. “No pillow wall.”

“It’s my lucky day.” He’s salty, but he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“And we’re just getting started,” I say, and that finally—finally—earns me a smile.

The afternoon slips away in a haze of hot chocolate, M&Ms, and Elliott’s favorite Mars rover videos. By the time we emerge from our cozy cocoon in the guest house, the sky has darkened to a deep blue, and the twinkling lights strung along the eaves of the main house cast a warm glow over the snow-covered yard.

“Okay?” I ask Elliott as we approach the back door. He’s looking much better now, the scratch on his cheek less angry, and the skunk smell has faded to almost nothing.

He squeezes my hand. “Let’s deck some halls.”

We step inside to find the living room buzzing with activity. The enormous pine tree—which was obviously cut down after the skunk incident—stands proudly in the corner, waiting to be adorned. Boxes of ornaments are scattered around, and my family members are bustling about, untangling lights and sorting through decorations.

“There you are,” my mom calls out, waving us over. “Elliott, dear, how are you feeling?” She rushes at him and pulls him into a hug.

“Much better, thank you,” he replies politely. When he returns to my side, and retakes my hand in his, I give it a reassuring squeeze to remind him I don’t care if everyone in my family loves him or not.

My dad approaches, looking sheepish. “Elliott, I want to apologize again for what happened earlier. We should have been more careful.”

Elliott waves him off. “No harm done, sir. Well, except to my pride maybe.”

Danny comes closer with a box of moss-covered ornaments. “And your face.” He grins and extends his fist for Elliott to bump.

I shoot my brother a glare, but Elliott chuckles good-naturedly and does the bro-fist-bump-thing. “That too.”

“Well,” my mom interjects, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get this tree decorated, shall we? Elliott, why don’t you and deal with the white balls?”

Elliott looks at me. “That sounds exciting.”

I grin at him and point to the others who’ve clearly already been assigned a task. “Rob and Cosette are on the cloth ornaments. My grandmother sewed the whole nativity set before she died, and we decorate the tree with it every year.”

“Your dad’s on lights, obviously,” he says.

“Obviously.” Dad looks like he might lose his battle with the white lights for the first time in years. “We all stand here and wait for him, and he refuses to start early so we don’t have to.” I look over to where Anna is crouched down with Sariah. “Anna and James are doing the metallic balls.”

“Even more exciting.”

I shake my head and nod over to Danny and Katherine. “They’re doing all the picks.”

“I don’t even know what a pick is.”

“Red, white, and blue poinsettias,” I say. “Fake flowers. My mom cuts them so they just have a long stem—like a pick. They just poke them into the branches to fill the holes.”

“And your mom?” He glances around, but she’s not in the living room.

I turn him toward the kitchen and dining room. “She’s finishing dinner and laying out presents. We each get one on Christmas Eve, and we open them at the table, before we eat.”

Elliott nods and twists back to face the living room. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Your family traditions are nice.”

“Are they?”

“I think so.”

Warmth fills me, because I suppose it is nice to be able to gather here, all of us, and enjoy something familiar and fun. My dad finally finishes with the lights, and we kids descend on the tree with our various ornaments. Elliott and I fall into sync easily, with him threading the hooks through the tops of the white orbs and holding them out to me to place on the tree.

“To the left,” he says, and I find the hole he sees from further away. Our dance is fluid and natural, and when our ornaments have all been hung, I step back to his side and cuddle in close.

“You’re pretty good at this,” I murmur, taking in the grandeur of the tree as it blooms into Christmas glory right before my eyes.

He grins. “I have hidden talents.”

As Danny and Katherine finish up, they come to stand beside us, a feeling fills my chest that has nothing to do with the crackling fire or the hot cocoa or the magic of Christmas. Fine, maybe it’s some of the magic of Christmas.

Elliott’s arm sits easily around my waist, and he laughs at something Danny just said, and I realize with a start that this is exactly what I’ve always wanted: someone who fits so naturally into my world, who can weather the storms—or skunks—and still come out smiling.

“Okay, everyone,” Mom says. “Oh, look at it.” She pauses, and I appreciate how much she works for the holidays to be so seamless, so perfect, so wonderful. She’s not perfect, but she’s very, very good, and I smile softly over to her as I catch her swiping at her eyes as she gazes at the Christmas tree.

Dad steps next to her and puts his arm around her too, and standing there with Elliott, I finally feel like I fit inside the Luckson family. I lean into Elliott’s side, breathing in the pine scent of the freshly cut tree and catching just a hint of vinegar, but no skunk.

“Okay,” Mom says again. “It’s time for presents. Everyone take their spot behind their chair.”

“We open the gifts standing up?” he asks as everyone files into the dining room, and no, no one pulls out a chair to sit down. Ornate gifts sit atop each place setting, including Elliott’s. When we arrive at the same spots as last night, he glances over to me. “I didn’t?—”

I shake my head, and he cuts off. I’m sure my mom started shopping the moment Elliott texted her that he’d be my plus-one for the holidays. Dad says, “Ry, why don’t you go first this year?” and I reach for my present. The box is small and square, and I suspect jewelry as I pull off the silver paper with blue glittery snowflakes.

It’s definitely a black jewelry box, and I open the top to find a delicate silver charm bracelet inside.

“It’s lovely,” I breathe out, admiring the tiny charms—a book, a palm tree—the state tree of South Carolina—and a little house that looks suspiciously like the Big House back in Cider Cove. I look up and smile genuinely over to my mom. “Thank you.” Then I touch my palm to my heart and look at my daddy. “Thank you so much.”

There are new pajamas for Sariah, a fancy bottle of cologne for my dad, and a beautiful scarf for my mom. Dad then says, “Elliott,” next, and he stands there still and silent.

“Ell.”

He startles at the sound of my voice and reaches over the top of the dining room chair and picks up a long, rectangular box wrapped in rich, red, wrapping paper. He acts like he’s trying to unwrap glass, and when he finally opens the top on the clothing box, he reveals a soft, forest green scarf, hat, and glove set.

“We thought you might need it for future tree-cutting expeditions,” my dad jokes, earning a laugh from everyone.

Elliott wraps the scarf around his neck and grins as he pulls the hat over his non-skunky hair. “It’s perfect. Thank you all so much.” He beams around at everyone, and I scan my family too.

And cookie dough M&Ms, he’s charmed them all. Completely.

No wonder my sisters brought soup and bread to the guest house earlier today. Elliott is in.

And while I’m thrilled by that, I wonder what will happen to me inside my own family if we can’t make something real and serious stick after the magic of Christmas wears off.