A Christmas gift
James sighed angrily when he saw the box sittin' on his doorstep. What was it this time? Another nutter tryin' ta convince him ta talk about "the truth," 'bout what happened to them all afore they were rescued? Like hell James would ever talk 'bout that other than the other four who got off. He toed the box, unable ta read the return address from where he stood over it, since he weren't wearing his glasses or nothing. Maybe it were from another adoring fan, another lacy bra and sexy note from some woman who were probably a fat, grayin' librarian, drawn in by his natural good looks and rogueish charm.
Grinnin' to himself, James unlocked th' door to his condo and pushed the box in with his foot. He set about relaxin' after a long day of nothin' doing, leaving his boots by the front door and the package, twisting the cap offa beer and puttin' some water onta boil fer an easy dish of pasta. It was only while he was drainin' the rotini that James remembered the package. He put th' pasta back in the pot with a squelch as it hit the metal sides and slid down, and then walked back ta the door ta get the box.
James grunted as he bent over ta pick up the package, his back crackin' a little. The box weren't heavy, but damn, he was getttin' old. James was pretty sure it was the island's fault -- sleeping on the ground for those many weeks, with only some crappy airline seat cushions as a makeshift mattress. That's right, he told himself even while trying to ignore the inner voice, continue ta blame the island for all the crap in yer life, even the fact that yer gettin' old.
Placing the package on the kitchen table, James grabbed some scissors off the counter and slit the tape holding the top together and pulled out -- what the -- two tins. A small white note fluttered out from between the tins, and James grabbed at it.
Wouldn't forget about you, Dimples. You know where to find me when these're gone. Or if you're ever in New York again. Merry Christmas, darlin'. - Savannah
James found himself grinnin' even afore he opened up the tins. Yeah -- there they were, just like he expected. Blueberry fucking muffins, definitely homemade. Blueberry muffins had been somethin' of a joke 'tween Savannah and him, ever since they first met. James sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, the soggy pasta completely forgotten, as he unwrapped one of the muffins and took a bite, devourin' the thing in just three bites.
"God damn," he muttered, still grinning. He hadn't expected nothin' fer Christmas, not from no one, least of all Savannah, so it were a mighty nice surprise. He and the Georgian gal didn't have th' most easily definable relationship, since they had met all of three times at the most afore the whole island disaster, and James were sure she had never thought of him again after those nights, 'less it were with an appreciative rememberance for some damn good sexxin'. Then James had broken th' rules by askin' fer her to be there when he got back to the States, and ... well, whatever. If seein' her once in a while when he made it to New York brought him rewards like this, tins a baked goods, he -- wait, tins?
His gaze fell on th' other tin, still sittin' there. He had forgotten about it, enthralled as he was by the fuckin' splendor of Savannah's blueberry muffins. Hell, if th' other tin held more muffins, James wouldn't at all be disappointed. He pried the top off the tin and -- James laughed, looking down at the bland faced gingerbread men looking back up at him. James shook his head, amused maybe more'n he should be by their expression -- or lack thereof. Picking a cookie up and promptly biting off its head, James went over ta his computer and opened up a blank email, shootin' off a message to Savannah.
Cocoa,
Got yer package today. Gotta say, this were one of the best surprises I've had in a real long time. Thanks fer the muffins and cookies and all that, beautiful. I'm definitely gon' have ta hop on a flight over to yer little city sooner rather than later, give you a proper thanks.
Merry Christmas right back atcha, gorgeous,
Sawyer