Travis

“Yoo-hoo, Travis!” My neighbor Trina’s voice stops me at the steps of my front porch. I turn to greet her and see her husband, Clark, walking beside her.

Trina’s bright and cheerful smile frightens me a little. It has to be unnatural to smile that big and that often. Clark’s smile is strained, as if he’d rather be sitting in front of his television watching sports than be out in the cold. Not that I blame him. I wish I were doing the same.

I give the couple a once-over and recognize Trina’s holiday apparel and the plate she’s carrying with her.

That better not be what I think it is.

As she moves in closer, I realize it is.

Fucking Christmas cookies.

“Evening, Trina. Clark,” I murmur before exchanging a nod with Clark.

“Happy Holidays,” Trina singsongs, thrusting the plate of cookies toward me. “I realize we’ve never exchanged baked goods before, but well, I had some extra and thought you might like some of my famous chocolate thumbprint cookies. They’re award winning.”

I look down at the cookies, wishing the ground would open beneath my feet and swallow me whole. What the fuck is with everyone trying to give me cookies? I reach out for the plate, because let’s face it, I’ve made enough females cry in the last twenty-four hours.

“Thank you, Trina.” I swallow and look at the sweets. I was never a dessert eater to begin with, so I’m struggling to find the words to express my gratitude. “They look delicious.”

“I hope you enjoy them.” If possible, her smile grows larger and she looks past me toward the house. “Clark and I were talking, just this morning. We know you don’t decorate for Christmas, but if you’d like, we have an extra string of lights or two. If you want, Clark would be happy to help you hang them up.”

“No,” I yelp, and Trina blanches. Shit! “I mean, I wouldn’t want Clark to go out of his way. It’s just me here, and I don’t even put up a tree.”

“You can’t be serious. Everyone needs a tree,” she feigns shock. It isn’t a secret to anyone on the block, and I know it. Not once in the last three years have I decorated, and I’m not about to change it now. “Clark, do we still have that fake tree we bought a few years ago in the attic? Surely we can loan it to Travis.”

“Honey—” Clark starts, but Trina doesn’t let him get another word in.

“It already has lights on it, Travis. I bought it one year thinking of saving some decoration time, but I—”

“Trina, I appreciate the offer, but I am going to have to pass,” I cut her off this time, ready to nip the developing situation in the bud. It’s not my intention to be an ass, but I take pride in being the kind of neighbor who keeps to himself. Trina’s never approached me before, and I want to make sure she doesn’t do it again. “I don’t decorate because I don’t celebrate Christmas. Thank you so much for the cookies. I’m sure I will enjoy them, but I’m running late for an appointment.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Trina stutters and looks at Clark. He looks at me with a smirk, silently thanking me for ending his torture. “Well, I guess we better be going.”

“It’s nice of you to think of me,” I add, trying to lessen the effect of my bluntness. “You folks have a good evening.”

I watch them walk back down the pathway and turn away the moment they hit the street to enter my house.

I beeline it to the kitchen, putting the plate on the counter, and then stare down at them, contemplating my next move. Should I throw them out? It’s not like I’m going to eat them. Or should I take them over to Betty’s? But then I’d have to explain how I got them in the first place, and quite frankly, I don’t need another lecture from my aunt about my scrooge attitude.

I take my gloves off and frown, scratching my head. Trina’s never brought me cookies before. No one ever has. Why now?

I begin to unbutton my jacket when the sound of the doorbell ringing interrupts my thoughts.

Something doesn’t feel right.

I walk from the kitchen to the door and slowly open it. Standing on the other side are Josh and Lisa from across the street. A younger couple, they moved into the neighborhood this summer with their four children.

“Merry Christmas,” they greet me. Lisa smiles up at me. She’s bundled up in a pink puffy jacket, matching scarf, and mittens. Josh, unlike Clark, looks happy to be standing next to his little wife, proud as she thrusts a large plate filled with Christmas sweets at me.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“The kids and I have been baking up a storm the last few days, and we thought you might enjoy a few of them,” she explains, talking excitedly.

“My wife’s peanut butter cookies are the best you will ever have.” Josh nods, while I stand speechless.

I’m on friendly terms with Trina and Clark, but I’ve never more than uttered a word to the couple across the street. Yet here they are. Bringing me more cookies.

Fuck.

“What is going on?” I ask a little too harshly, causing the young couple to take a step back. “Why are you bringing me cookies?”

“It’s the holidays. We’re trying to be neighborly.” Josh’s eyes narrow on me, but not before he wraps a protective arm around Lisa.

“Why?” I demand, trying to smother my frustration.

Seriously, what is it with the fucking cookies!

“Liv thought it would be nice for the neighborhood to bring you some Christmas cheer,” Lisa spills. Feeling brave again, she holds out the plate once more, but my gaze is no longer on Josh and Lisa. It’s on the house next door and the woman standing on her porch. She’s watching the entire exchange with a smug smile across her face.

“Did she now?” I ask, but I don’t wait for an answer. “You should know before this goes any further, I’m not going to decorate my house. I don’t do trees. In fact, I don’t celebrate this damn holiday at all.”

“But cookies…” Lisa refuses to let my words get her down and holds up the plate of cookies under my nose, meaning to entice. I feel like taking the plate and throwing it across the yard.

I close my eyes and sigh heavily. Taking the cookies from her, I wish the couple a good evening and watch them walk away, just like I did with Trina and Clark.

Only this time, I look back at the woman behind my surprise visitors and find her laughing. She’s clearly enjoying this. Is she really the reason I’ve received two plates of cookies in the last ten minutes? Why?

“Is this funny to you?” I call out to her. Her lips quirk and she lifts her hand to point at something. I turn my head and see a line of neighbors headed down my walkway.

Each holding a plate of fucking Christmas cookies.

Fucking hell.