Free Beach Blanket Santa by Ginny Baird

a light squeeze.
    She considered this a moment, watching the flames dance and leap in the hearth. After a beat she turned her face to his, her cheeks warm from the fire. “If I really could have anything…”
    “ Anything ,” he said for emphasis.
    “Well,” she said truthfully, “I’ve always wanted to visit Tasmania. See the Southern Cross.”
    “Tasmania, huh?” he said with surprise. “That’s quite a wish!”
    She nudged him with her elbow. “You did say anything .”
    “Tasmania’s a nice dream. Nothing at all the matter with that.” He wrapped his arm around her and tucked her in close. “It’s just a little tough to fit under a tree.”
    “That’s the other thing,” she said, looking up at him.
    “What is?”
    “A tree. I’ve always thought it would be really lovely to have a tree. A real live Christmas tree.”
    Matt knew she’d said her mom hadn’t ever celebrated, but he was a tad surprised she’d never bought a tree of her own. “You’ve never had one?”
    “I did break down and buy a small Christmas tree prism. It hangs from the rearview mirror of my SUV.”
    “I meant, for your apartment?”
    “It hardly seemed practical with no ornaments to put on it.”
    “You can buy those.”
    She looked at him sincerely. “That’s not the same. Tree ornaments were meant to be homemade.”
    “And why is that?”
    “Because,” she said with certainty, “it means they were made with love. And that’s really what the season’s about in so many ways.”
    “You never made any yourself?”
    She hung her head, averting his gaze. “I’m about as crafty as I am a Betty Crocker.”
    He chuckled lightly, tightening his embrace around her shoulders. “You’re a wonderful Betty Crocker. The best cook I’ve ever met, in fact.”
    She slowly met his eyes, the firelight catching in hers. “Honestly?”
    “Honey, there’s no one I’d rather bake cookies with.”
    She beamed at him. How he loved it when she smiled. In fact, her smile was quickly becoming one of Matt’s favorite things. “Thanks for saying that, even if it’s not true.”
    “But it is true,” he protested with a laugh. It was too. There was no other woman he wanted in his arms when giving instructions on the rolling pin.
    “In any case,” she continued, “I’m sure I’ll get one someday. A Christmas tree, I mean. I’d really like to, anyhow.”
    Matt held her close, the most brilliant idea occurring. It wouldn’t be exact, but it might work well enough. If only he could find that box Robert kept below the house.

    A little while later, Matt had kissed her sweetly and said they should rest up for Christmas Day. Sarah went to bed, but her restless emotions had kept her tossing and turning for hours. On one hand, she was elated that a man as incredible as Matt would take an interest in her. He was dynamite to be around and every bit the fantastic kisser she’d remembered. Conversely, she felt down knowing what she kept from him. Could she really hope he’d still want to see her if he knew the truth? Sarah still wasn’t done dealing with it, and it had caused her untold hours of anguish. She hadn’t even dared to tell her best friend. Somehow, by sharing bad news, you made it that much more real. As long as she dealt with this alone, she could handle it. Then again, handling things alone meant that alone was how she’d always be.
    Sarah rolled onto her side and hugged her pillow, a tear sliding down her cheek. In the soft glow of the nightlight, she could make out the contours of her room and its huge windows framing the sea. Though she couldn’t view it due to the darkness, she could still hear the pounding of the waves against the shore. The rain must have let up; before, its fierce ruckus had overtaken the ocean’s roar.
    Sarah sat up under the covers, thinking she’d heard the screen door creak open. But how could that be? She studied the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly four a.m. She slid into her