Wren was pulling out the next batch of biscuits out of her oven. These ones were Citrus-Kissed Fig Thumbprints, and she was humming Jingle Bells terrifyingly out of tune. Thea was sitting on the only chair in the kitchen, the rest of the furniture was still herding in the parlour, Wren had moved in this house two days ago.

"My darling," Thea was licking her fingers, "I don't know what I just ate but I think I had a clitoral."

"It was a Star Mint Meringue, and Thea… just ew, no!" Wren was laughing, waving her hands in red and white oven mitts at her friend, "And thank you for the compliment, I guess." Thea hummed in agreement, fishing another biscuit from a cooling rack. "Oh my god, what are these? They are so cute!"

"Zebra Crinkles, white and dark chocolate in the batter." Thea stuffed the whole stripy treat into her mouth and smiled squinting her eyes.

"Blimey, Wrennie, this is orgasmic. Speaking of which..." Her voice dropped, and Wren tensed with a cookie cutter in her hand. Oh no, Thea was in her Wrennie-needs-some-sugar mode. "Since I am celebrating Christmas with that German hunk, what are you up to this year?" Wren groaned.

"Thea, can we not fail the Bechdel Test here and talk about something else rather than men? How about biscuits? They are so much better than blokes. Sweet and predictably pleasurable..." Thea guffawed.

"Basically you are saying, that the control freak in you is happy they won't run away to Australia like some chestnut haired hunks that we know."

"Auggie didn't run away to Australia. He moved and offered me to go with him. Sadly, I'd rather cookie cutter my eye out than do it," Wren mimicked the described action, and Thea choked on a Maple Toffee Swirl.

"Wrennie, that was way too graphic, and the problem with moving to Australia was exactly in the fact that Auggie wasn't your type of… biscuit." Wren snorted and put another reindeer shaped biscuit on the parchment. "Say, he was white chocolate, and you needed toffee. Or he was too sweet, and you need a bit of bitter and… grumpy."

"A grumpy biscuit?" An orange curl fell out of Wren's bun, and she brushed it off the cheekbone with the back of her hand.

"Yeah. Common, I know you, Wrennie! Auggie was one of those Swedish Rosettes you baked for my mum, all light and non-substantial. You are a chocolate fudge type of girl, Wren. You want grumpy, but secretly sweet, and... sticky."

"What?" Wren straightened up in a cloud of icing sugar hanging around her copper head.

"Sticky. As in staying with you, and you can't get them out of your teeth. You know, stable." Thea made a disgusted grimace. "Like in marry and have four of his sprogs. What have you been telling me since we were five? Three boys and a girl, right?"

"Yes, I've always wanted three boys and a girl, but at the moment I want my solo Christmas in PJs. Seriously, Thea, it's been eight months since I became single, and I love it!" Wren squished the icing cone too hard, and red paste squirted all over a Santa she was decorating, "It will be the first Christmas I'm celebrating alone, in my whole life, it was first my family, then Auggie, and I love being alone this year! I'll watch telly, Mr. Thornton will keep me company," Wren pointed at her big black and white cat who was reposing in his basket, on a white Afghan with red reindeers, bought especially for celebratory reasons, "I will eat popcorn and be merry."

"Wrennie," Thea's tone was condescending, and she sauntered to the window, another rack with cooling biscuits on its sill. These ones were whipped shortbreads, pink, decorated with white chocolate glaze and red sugar granules. "I might not be a genius baker and a philanthropist like some skinny gingers in here," Wren smirked, her eyes focused on Gingerbread men she was currently giving little moustaches, according to the latest Internet fashion, "But one thing I know is men. And I am a hundred percent sure I know what you need."

"Do enlighten me then," another batch of biscuits went into the oven, and Wren watched her gorgeous friend gobble up the third shortbread, while faking pensiveness and looking through the window.

"About six four, or even five, dark hair, long, wavy, gorgeous arse, wide shoulders, the body of a lumberjack, sheer muscles, grace of a mountain lion." Wren exchanged sarcastic looks with Mr. Thornton, and he expressed by the derisive twitch of his ear that he fully shared his mistress' sentiment. Thea was bonkers. And oddly specific, to think of it. "Attractive, but homey. A man who is capable of wearing a ridiculous sweater with reindeer just because some family member gave it to him and his younger brothers, or nephews, hard to tell." That's when Wren jumped to Thea and looked through the window as well. "And let me add, Wrennie my dear, I do approve of your 'hood."

"It's my neighbour, I saw him parking his car last night, we haven't met yet," Wren's voice was squeaky, her eyes glued to the man who was climbing a ladder leaned onto the roof of the next house. "I think his name is John Thorington, and he moved in two days before me."

"And it is indeed a glorious arse," Thea purred and nicked another biscuit. "My oh my…"

Both girl were staring at the man who was balancing on the top of the ladder, Christmas lights in his hand, and then his foot slipped and his long muscular arms, indeed clad in a ridiculous red jumper, flailed in the air, and he grabbed the edge of the roof, and there he was, hanging in all his impressive length.

Wren squealed and rushed to the back door, a blur of red and green of her apron and a beacon of bright ginger hair. Thea sprinted after her, swearing under her breath. Just like Wren she was wearing socks, and they immediately were soaked wet.

Thea caught up with Wren, who had always been the fast one, and plus Thea lost a few seconds climbing over the fence, while the barmy ginger leaped over it with the grace of a gazelle and the efficiency of an Olympic hurdler. They turned around the corner but found no trace of Wren's neighbour supposedly called John.

Actually, a trace was all they found. A rather clear six foot five hench bloke shaped imprint was clearly seen on the snow, and suddenly Wren giggled.

"Well, at least we know he walked away on his own. And there is no blood." Wren studied the imprint, and Thea's sexdar rang deafeningly. Wren so liked what she saw.

"Yep, I was right, just look at these proportions," Thea circled the print and licked her lips. "If you don't want him, I'm putting this on my Christmas list. And we should go ask how he is doing," Thea purred, and immediately Wren's bane, heady flaming blush, spilled on the redhead's cheekbones.

"No! We are not dressed, and we are wearing socks, and I have this apron..." She started fussing and backing up towards her fence. "No, no, and besides it's time to take out the biscuits…" She suddenly whirled on her heels and dashed towards her house, as if Thea would force her into interacting with the totty next door. Thea sighed. Firstly, the case obviously demanded a more subtle approach, Wren was skittish. Secondly, while the one called John was bringing the ladder Thea saw two more wonderful specimens carry a Christmas tree inside. And Wren was right, three fit men in one house demanded more preparation.

Thea plodded after Wren, brushing crumbs off her gorgeous cleavage, she might have crunched into a shortbread too hard when Wren's neighbour slipped. Thea also straightened up her fluffy cashmere champagne coloured sweater, it had bunched up when she was climbing over the fence. No, that was in no way the outfit in which she would introduce herself to two dark-haired and one blonde hotties. They all had those rower build, wide shoulders and narrow waists, and while the unfortunate ladder climber was probably in his forties, there was some salt in that pepper, the other two were younger. Thea really loved having some choice.

She followed Wren inside and shook off her socks. Wren was already rummaging in one of the boxes, looking for a pair for her.

"OK, Leary," Thea pulled them on and wiggled her toes. "Finish this batch, and let's go and build a snowman." And then Thea started singing in a funny little voice, still keeping her perfect harmony, she sang jazz in a nightclub on Tuesdays, "Come on / Let's go and play / I never see you anymore / Come out the door / It's like you've gone away..." Wren laughed and threw an oven mitt into her face.


The snowman turned out very good. Wren's artistic abilities and deft little hands shaped him into a rather dashing gentleman, robust and wide shouldered, she gave up an elegant stripy scarf for him, and Thea showed up from the house carrying a giant carrot and a dark haired wig Wren wore at the last year's costume party in the bakery she worked in.

"So, what do you think, chick?" Thea placed the wig on the snowman and quickly tied the mane into a ponytail with a red ribbon she nicked from Wren's wreath.

"No, no!" Wren was trying to suppress giggling, but it was virtually impossible. "Thea, just no..."

"Oh common, Wrennie, the snowman is on the other side of the house, he won't see it, and you started it! You gave him exactly the shape," Thea gestured around the snowman's prominent pectoral muscles. Wren was starting to snort loudly and bending in half from suppressed laughter.

"I did," she squeaked, and finally loud laughter burst out of her, "I couldn't help it! He was just so fi-i-i-it!"

"Bingo!" Thea smiled widely, and to finish up her friend she pushed the carrot under her nose, "I am still not sure that it's big enough." Wren hollered and fell on the ground, dangling her tiny feet in the air, her arms wrapped around her stomach. "With the height and the build, we might need an Asian radish! You know?" Thea gestured something a foot long, and Wren started hiccuping.

"Put the damn carrot in, Thea," she was out of breath, "God, I'm only happy he won't see it." Thea smiled and finally pushed the carrot into the middle of the snowman's face, its lower part suspiciously looking as if it were faring a thick beard just like the man whom Wren had been in no way depicting in snow.

"Let's go inside, Wrennie, my dear. We'll have some eggnog, and unlike you I won't pass that sherry in it." The girls hugged and walked inside. Wren threw the last look at the snowman and smiled. It was beginning to look like Christmas.