Page 3 of Sleigh My Heart

A tall, thin man in a red shirt and black pants entered. His short, scruffy beard held flecks of red and white.

The twinkle in his cobalt eyes matched that of the jolly old elf she remembered. Add five pounds of snowy beard and a pillow or two around the middle and he’d be ready to play the big guy.

“Mr. Jolley?” She rocked back on her heels as she took in her old neighbor.

“Well, if it isn’t little Mickey Swenson.” He slapped his hands to his nonexistent belly and laughed, “Ho, ho, ho.”

Only Russ Jolley could say ho and not mean the kind who hangs out on Industrial Boulevard at night.

A laugh tickled her throat. Moving into the room, she walked right into the man’s bear hug. The aroma of peppermint and pine enveloped her, bringing back memories of Christmases past.

She patted his arm and stepped back. “It really is good to see you, Mr. Jolley.”

“What did you call me?” He pulled a mini candy cane from his pocket and tapped it on her nose.

“Santa.”

Mr. Jolley, with his booming voice and jovial personality, played Santa for as long as she could remember. Decades. She stepped back and took him in. His beard sported more gray now. He had a few more lines around his eyes, but he hadn’t changed. Michelle remembered thinking he was old when Nick and she were in junior high. She gestured to his red shirt. “You’re still working at the mall’s Holiday Wonderland?”

“Dear girl, I never think of it as work. I love seeing the children… of all ages.” He sat in one of the chairs and patted his thigh. “Do you want to tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”

Sit on Santa’s lap? That was a big fat no. She could hear the jokes at the station already. Inside, she knew good old Russ Jolley thought of her as a kid. If she hadn’t known him her entire life, she would bust his chops for the creepy comment.

“Thanks, but—”

“Aren’t you a little big to be sitting on Santa’s lap?”

The deep, rich voice sparked something in her memory. She froze. No. It couldn’t be. He was halfway around the world.

But the voice in her head, the one that knew it was, gave a manic laugh. She couldn’t forget that voice even if she tried. And, oh, how she tried. But how could she forget when it lived in her memories during her weakest moments? The times she wondered, “What if?”

Please don’t be Nick. Please don’t be Nick.

Michelle sucked in a breath and glanced over her shoulder.

Well, reindeer poo. If she’d had one wish for Santa, it would be that she had accidentally ingested some hallucinogens and the real Nick Jolley wasn’t leaning against the doorjamb, looking like a freakin’ Christmas gift to woman-kind.

“Michelle?” He showed no emotion. Nothing. The question in his voice was the only hint he was surprised to see her. His face held a professional façade.

She took in the man she loved a lifetime ago. Well, double shit. The Nick standing only a few feet away was even better than she remembered… and very real. All of him. Long, lean, and here—in Ashwood.

“You’re home.” And why did no one warn me?

Her question almost slipped out. Police business. That was why she was here, not for a revival of her long dormant female parts. But one look at Nick and said parts were yawning and stretching after their long winter’s nap. Down, girl.

She cleared her throat. “Nice to see you again, Nick. We got a call about a stolen sleigh.”

“I noticed it was missing this morning.” His gaze locked with hers for the briefest of moments before he moved to the desk.

She caught sight of the security badge on his belt. So, he must be the new head of security. More questions filled her mind. Personal questions.

She cleared her throat. “You noticed it this morning. When was the last time you saw the sleigh?”

Nick rubbed his hand over his chin. “I was in the storage room the Monday after Thanksgiving. It was there then.”

“Not since?”

“No. Christmas decorations were set up back in October. Everything except the sleigh and a few things for the festival.”