Page 2 of Wrapped and Tapped

H eart slamming against my ribs, I froze with my eyes glued to the counter, waiting for the present to move again. It didn’t.

I swiped the back of a hand over my sweaty forehead, wondering if the wine had hit me harder than usual.

Skipping lunch probably wasn’t the best idea, and I was paying for it now.

Seeing and hearing things? Not a good combination.

Maybe it was stress-related? I’d definitely had enough of that today.

A glance at the window confirmed that the snow was falling even more heavily now, and I let my eyes unfocus as the big, fluffy flakes filled most of my view.

The cell phone in my coat pocket buzzed, tearing me from my thoughts with a jarring notification ding.

I pulled it out to find an email from the airline, and my stomach pitched toward the floor as I quickly scanned it, fearing the worst. I’d been right: all flights out of my local airport, including mine, had just been canceled until further notice.

“Damn it,” I hissed under my breath, irritated even though it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Hadn’t I been willing to accept festive rabies earlier if it got me out of going? Maybe this was my blessing in disguise.

I sent a hasty text to Aunt Charlene with a screenshot of the email and bland apologies, then turned off the ringer entirely.

I just didn’t have the energy for another conversation with her after the day I’d had.

Besides, she’d probably tell me to take a damned dogsled or something to get the groceries she was perfectly capable of getting on her own.

Tossing one last curious glare at the presents on the counter, I decided rest was what I needed. I flopped down on the couch, curling up around a throw pillow, and closed my eyes for a brief, blessed moment to take the edge off of my threatening headache.

The snow was already burying any semblance of sidewalks or streets outside, I reasoned as I got comfortable.

Being a good neighbor and tracking down the presents’ rightful recipient could wait an hour or two: the storm had basically trapped me in my home anyway.

That cheesy Christmas movie would also have to wait, because my eyelids were growing heavier with every second that passed, sleep dragging me under.

It wasn’t long, minutes at most, before I slipped into restless dreams, unsettling images of Aunt Charlene chasing me down a mountain on a bobsled plaguing my mind.

I’d almost reached the bottom when she started launching groceries at me, hitting me in the back of the head with a bunch of broccoli right before a loaf of stale sourdough caught me in the side.

Sleep was still wrapped around my head like a scarf when I woke hours later, the corner of my mouth sticky from where I’d drooled on myself.

I sniffled, clearing my sinuses, and used a handful of the puffy couch cushion top to haul myself into a sitting position.

With a stretch, I gazed around the dark living room, and was about to get up to head to bed when noise in the kitchen caught my attention.

No, not noise… voices.

I sucked in a sharp breath, clapping a hand over my mouth as my heart squeezed in my chest. There was someone, several someones, in my house! Had they snuck in while I was asleep? Or had they broken in earlier and been hiding, waiting until I turned in for the night to make their escape?

Internally, I was screaming, but outwardly I kept as quiet as possible, wishing I hadn’t left the pen knife on the kitchen counter.

The best chance I had at self defense was a remote, a few coasters, and a fat Santa figurine sitting on a side table.

Nothing that would help me against intruders, nothing that would serve as a decent weapon.

For fuck’s sake. I’d even left my phone by the presents on the counter.

Taking a shaky breath, I leaned forward and looked down the hall. Could I make it to my bedroom and barricade myself inside before one of the intruders caught up to me? I could take my chances, however slim, outside and hope I made it to the neighbor’s house without freezing to death first.

The voices mumbled on, just low enough that I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

Icy fear clinging to my spine, I silently inched my way to the end of the couch, leaning as far as I could toward the entrance to the kitchen.

If I could just make out what they were saying, maybe I could work out a plan.

Or maybe I could work out their plan and go from there.

I didn’t have much money—last month’s rent increase had seen to that right before the holidays—but there were a few expensive things hidden throughout the house. Maybe I could barter for my life. If they’d wanted to kill me, they wouldn’t have waited until I woke up to off me, right?

“We don’t want to scare her,” a deep, velvety voice said. Something shifted in the kitchen, and I strained to hear over the movement. “Buzz, put that down.”

A muffled thump followed, along with a sigh. “There’s no easy way to do it. She’s likely never seen one of us before.”

My ears perked up, and I leaned farther over the arm of the couch, trying to make out more of the conversation. One of them? What did that mean? And were they really talking about me like I wasn’t supposedly passed out in the other room?

Of course they were.

“I’ll do the talking,” a third voice said, this one soft and light. “We don’t need either of you ruining this for us. If we have any chance at earning his forgiveness we need to…”

His voice fell so low I couldn’t hear anything else, and I stretched my neck as far as it would go, balancing on the sofa arm like a gymnast posing on a beam.

I was close to the doorway now, almost near enough to peer around and see straight into the kitchen, but I suddenly pitched forward and yelped as I fell.

Despite the plush carpet, my forehead cracked against the floor, a flash of pain radiating through my skull, and I fought to orient myself.

The scrape of a kitchen chair sliding across the tile made my heart leap into my throat, followed by three urgent pairs of footsteps.

I finally worked myself up onto my elbows and managed to roll over, tiny bursts of light exploding in front of my eyes as three figures loomed over me.

I blinked hard, willing my gaze to focus, but even then I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.

The three men, each looking equally worried, were odd .

For one, they all had brilliantly-colored hair, like they’d just come from a cottagecore punk show, vivid hues that streaked down through their facial hair.

Their features were honed but delicate, closer to male models than Lisa Frank lumberjacks, though they had the height for either.

For two, they all had distinctly pointed ears and wore a bizarre assortment of Christmas-themed clothes.

Suspenders, wildly-printed shirts and pants, dangling ornament earrings.

It was a lot—too much—to take in at once, and I couldn’t focus on any one of them long enough to take in all the details.

The man with teal hair dropped to a knee next to me, his messy tousled mop of soft green-blue a contrast to his tidy Van Dyke facial hair: a soft-edged mustache and a pointed goatee.

He looked to be just barely the youngest of the trio, somewhere in his mid-20s.

With a hesitant smile, he gently slid his hand under my head to cushion it from the floor, his skin warm with the scent of cloves as he helped me sit up.

“Are you okay? Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you.

I’m Tinsel, I’m sorry if we scared you.”

Tinsel? I must have hit my head harder than I thought. My eyes darted to the other men, both looking at me with gentle concern, and then back at the teal-haired Depp-twin hottie cradling my head in his hand.

“H-how did you get in my house?” I asked, pain throbbing through the front of my head. I probably needed to ice it. Hopefully I wouldn’t have a goose egg there in the morning.

The man standing over me with bright pink hair cleared his throat, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. “You…brought us in?”

I cackled, the unmoored sound echoing off the walls of the quiet living room, but none of the men joined in. Clearly they didn't think that claim was as hilarious as I did. What had I done? Sleep walked and let them in?

“You're insane,” I said, attempting to sit up despite the faint dizziness. Tinsel helped me off the floor, pulling me to my feet and making sure I wasn't going to faint before stepping back to give me space. “I wouldn’t let a bunch of perfect strangers into my house. You three need to leave. Now .”

It was the cobalt blue-haired man's turn to speak. His eyes were as vibrant as his scruffy beard, and he shifted awkwardly before glancing to the others as he spoke. “We…can't.”

My eyes bounced between the three of them, trying and failing not to linger on their handsome features.

They were strangers who broke into my house.

I shouldn't have thought any of them were sexy, but there I was, eyeing them like delicious pieces of candy. They even smelled good—a mix of nostalgic Christmas scents like gingerbread, peppermint, and pine swirling around me and distracting me from my anger. I had to tell them to leave… right? Yeah, of course. Obviously . C’mon girl, get it together.

My forehead, which I’m sure would bruise later, throbbed in agreement.

A quick side glance at the window told me the snow hadn’t let up at all during my nap.

Could I really send them out into a storm like that?

Even if they’d driven here, they certainly weren’t leaving right now.

They’d just end up camped outside my house, fighting to keep warm in their car until the battery died, or it ran out of gas.

Guilt crept in and I mentally batted it away like an annoying mosquito.