Page 1 of Wrapped and Tapped

T he ice-blue numbers on my dash clock taunted me, reminding me how little time I had left to get the presents ready.

Of course, ZonaDeals had lied to me about my shipment dates, even though all their ads and pop-ups had pinky-promised to get everything to me before the holidays.

Now, I only had a few hours to get home, hastily wrap everything, and finish packing.

I was due to catch a flight out to the family homestead halfway across the country in time for a “magical” (read: thoroughly fucking exhausting ) Christmas with a staggering amount of people.

I honestly didn’t even want to go, but Mom had wheedled a promise out of me and no one could wield a guilt trip like that woman.

I’d been a lot more hopeful in the pieces coming together before I’d left the office.

During my not-insubstantial commute, the delicate snowflakes had stopped swirling and dancing, coming down more like contractor bags of slush dropped off a building.

My windshield wipers were doing their damndest, but they were losing ground quickly.

I flicked my hazards on as I crept up the last stretch of road before home, praying that driving like a granny would keep my insurance premiums down.

The snow continued to absolutely bury anything resembling road lines, which is why my focus was elsewhere when a flurry of hooves and antlers suddenly broke the flow of white.

I screamed and stood on my brakes, and while my tail end skidded a little, I managed to avoid a collision.

It’d be just my luck to wreck my tried-and-true little sedan three blocks from my front door, but luck was on my side tonight.

Once I’d slid down my icy driveway with only a handful of heart palpitations, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and let out a long, slow breath.

The drive home had been full of a lot of near-misses, and it was only when I was safely parked that I puzzled over the herd of deer I’d nearly smacked into.

I hadn’t seen a single deer in the three years I’d lived here, and now a whole herd shows up? Weird.

I shoved my car door open, the bottom edge swooshing into snow that had already piled up several inches in the sudden freak snowstorm.

Grimacing, I pulled my coat around me tightly and stomped up to the porch, where not one, but four boxes greeted me.

One was clearly my ZonaDeals order, but the other three were carefully wrapped in festive paper and suspiciously pristine, with nary a smooshed corner or snowflake smear to be found.

As I unlocked the front door and nudged the boxes inside with the side of my boot, I jumped and backed into the wall when something in one of the nicer boxes seemed to move .

I stared at the box for a long moment, waiting for it to shift again, before finally deciding I was just tired and imagining things.

Besides, even if some posh raccoon had burrowed in one of the weirdly luxe-looking boxes, electricity was too damned expensive to leave the door hanging open.

Hell, even if I got festive rabies, it meant I could duck out of the family gathering: win-win.

Keeping a wary eye on the three unexpected boxes, I fumbled off one of my mittens and dug around in my pocket for my pen knife, kneeling down and focusing on the ZonaDeals package.

A soft whump pulled my attention up from where I’d poised the knife edge against the packing tape.

Holding my breath, I stared at the interloper packages for a long, suspicious moment before convincing myself it was just a snow drift falling off the roof.

My adrenaline, still sky-high from my harrowing drive home, made me jumpy.

Thankfully, it was nothing a glass of wine couldn’t fix.

I thought about the last bit of merlot waiting for me in the kitchen, and a smirk curled my lips.

Before I could change my mind, I gathered up the packages and carried them down the hall: wine, then presents.

I’d wrap the ones in my ZonaDeals order, pack for my flight, and possibly even have time to watch a cheesy Christmas movie before bed.

Setting the stack of gifts on the counter, my eyes lingered on the already beautifully-decorated ones, thoughts churning with curiosity.

Had they been delivered to the wrong house by a confused delivery driver?

Were they dropped off by a neighbor in the hopes of spreading Christmas cheer?

Without gift tags, I had no idea who they were from, or who they were for, but the need to find out tugged at me.

Maybe I would open them to see what was inside.

They might even make decent substitutes for the last-minute gifts I’d purchased from ZonaDeals.

Finally dragging my gaze away from the shining wrapping paper and crisp bows, I snatched the bottle of merlot from the opposite counter and unstoppered the wedged-in cork with a satisfying pop before retrieving a stemless wine glass from the cabinet.

As expected, there was just enough for a single drink, but I still tried to coax every drop from the bottle before chucking it in the trash.

I swished my glass around before knocking some back, making a face as the bitter liquid coated my tongue.

Another swig and I begged the wine to work its magic as quickly as possible, to soothe the edge of anxiety pumping through my veins.

My heart rate still hadn’t recovered from nearly hitting the herd of deer, despite the number of deep breaths I’d taken since.

As I stood there, my eyes gravitated to the mystery packages again, possibilities churning to life in my mind once more.

My Aunt Charlene could have ordered them and had them sent to my place so I could bring them with me on the plane in the morning.

It seemed like something she would do, expecting me to pay the ridiculous carry-on charge to surprise her obnoxious grandchildren with more toys they didn’t need.

I grumbled at the thought, sipping on my wine, as the idea grew more believable by the second.

If she expected me to haul these presents along with my overly-stuffed suitcase through the packed airport in the morning, she was nuts.

I set my glass aside, once again grabbing my pen knife and the ZonaDeals package.

Slicing through the packing tape, I popped the flaps of the box open and peered inside, fumbling through the contents to make sure it was all there.

Tissue paper, name labels, tape, a knitted scarf for Aunt Mina and a multi-function screwdriver for Uncle Jim.

Everything was there except the watch I’d bought for my grandfather, but I turned over the contents of the box once more just to make sure.

Of course, ZonaDeals would be late with their delivery and screw up my order.

I couldn’t wait for the customer service line to open on Monday morning so I could give them a piece of my mind.

I’d have to pick something up in an airport shop for him instead, which was less than ideal considering I’d already given him a hint about his gift.

I groaned, shoving the opened package aside.

Clearly, my streak of luck had run out after all, and I drained the rest of my wine to dull the disappointment.

The pristine packages gleamed in the corner of my eye, and I sighed, pulling out my phone and flipping through the contacts until I got to Aunt Charlene.

It was still relatively early on the west coast, so I knew she wouldn’t be sleeping.

I reluctantly jammed my thumb onto the call button.

Might as well figure out if she’s behind them.

I could already hear the complaints about ruining their perfect wrapping—as if her little hellions wouldn’t absolutely destroy it anyway.

Charlene picked up on the third ring, her nasal drone drilling into the peace of my snow-insulated home. “Neveeee. About time! We need you to pick up some groceries on the way from the airport. Are you here yet?”

I suppressed the internal sigh begging to be set free and forced a smile on my face, even though she couldn't see it.

“Not yet,” I said, although I was beginning to wonder if my plane would even take off in the morning with how much snow was already on the ground.

“Groceries? You want me to haul these presents and get groceries on the way?

I don't know if you remember, but I'm coming solo. I've only got two arms, Aunt Charlene.”

Solo. Yet another painful reminder of my failed engagement. Every time I got close to forgetting the heartache and disappointment of a five year relationship going down the drain, something subtle would always remind me how I hadn't been good enough for James. This time it was flipping groceries.

“Presents?” Aunt Charlene broke through my mental pity party, her tone clearly puzzled. “What presents?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, the dull throb of a headache coming on, and eyed the gleaming packages with contempt.

“These gifts that showed up to my house today, already wrapped,” I gritted out, wanting to take one and punt it across the kitchen. “They are from you, aren’t they?”

“No, darling, I have no idea what you’re going on about,” Charlene replied, the din of her grandchildrens’ too-loud video game system blaring over the line. “Are you sure they aren’t from that man of yours…what’s his name again? Maybe he wants to reconcile.”

I narrowed my eyes on the pristine packages, sitting there mocking me.

Even more of a reason to punt them.

“I doubt it, Aunt Charlene,” I bit back another defeated sigh.

James had made it perfectly clear where he stood when he decided to bury his cock inside his co-worker on a supposed business trip .

I’d found out when he accidentally butt-video-called me just as they were getting hot and heavy.

“I also doubt my flight will be on time tomorrow. It’s snowing something fierce here. ”

Aunt Charlene scoffed on the other end of the line, only half-listening. “Of course it will, dear. I’ll send you the list of things we need, but be sure to call me when you land in case I think of any others. Love you!”

Before I could object, she hung up, and I was left standing in my silent kitchen.

“Great,” I groaned, setting my phone aside and eyeing the foreign packages for the hundredth time.

Ok, maybe I should open them. If they weren’t from Aunt Charlene, then they must have been left here by mistake. There might be a note inside, something that would give me a hint as to who was missing these presents.

I eyed the short, squat parcel in front, wrapped in gold paper and topped with a crisp teal bow, my curiosity welling to uncontrollable levels. I grabbed my pen knife again and stepped toward the counter, intent on carefully opening the package so I could—hopefully—rewrap it if I needed to.

But before I could even reach for the present, it emitted a muffled sound as it shifted on the counter, making me scream.