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Nothing.
Nothing, I tell you.
That was my story.
And you could bet your entire ass plus the snacks in your pocket that I was sticking to it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Okay, Demi, are you ready to go?”
The blonde teen in an elf’s costume nodded, making the bell on the end of her green hat jingle. “Yes, Quinn. I’ve got it. I did it last year, remember?”
“I know. I’m just nervous. Sorry. I’ve never done this without Mom before.” I clutched the clipboard to my chest and looked around.
A line had been steadily forming for the last thirty minutes. Parents were all wrapped up with their screaming, over-excited crotch goblins tugging on their hands begging to know when they could see Santa and make their demands for their presents.
I wondered how many would ask for overpriced things like Nintendo Switches or televisions or Xboxes. Why couldn’t they ask for simple things like books or crayons?
I was so thankful for my mom’s tight rules for writing letters to the fat man—a price limit and an item limit, and at least one had to be a book. It was one we’d grown up with, and it meant that Santa always brought everything me and Verity had asked for.
I still couldn’t believe he’d brought me hairspray one year. Clearly, I’d run out of things to ask for that Christmas.
My parents probably would have thrown me off the roof if I’d asked for a gaming console. It was the same reason Jazzy never asked for anything uber expensive—she had the same rules as we had.
After all, there were lots and lots of children who were writing to Santa, and he couldn’t get everyone expensive things.
That’s what she was told, anyway. The real reason was, of course, that not everyone could afford to buy the most expensive things on the market, and it wouldn’t be fair if one kid went to school and said Santa got him an Xbox when all he could bring another child was some new sneakers.
If—and it was a big if—I ever had children of my own, that rule would apply to them.
Judging by the kid waiting a few back in line, there was no such rule in his household.
“You look cold. Are you cold?” I asked Demi, turning back to her and away from the screaming kid who had to see Santa right now.
Demi grinned, showing a row of pearly-white, perfectly straight teeth. “I’m not cold. These tights are thick and so is the jacket. If I do get cold, I have a matching scarf and gloves, remember?”
“Right. Of course.” I kept looking around as if a geyser would suddenly appear and spurt to life. “Okay. I’m going to see if Nic—Santa is ready inside.”
“I’m ready when you guys are,” she assured me. “And I think they are, too.”
“Mmph.” I let myself into the grotto and tugged at the stupid Christmas dress my mom had insisted I wear. It wasn’t as stupid as the elf costumes, but why was I dressed as Mrs. Santa? And why did I have to wear a stupid Santa hat?
It was too cold for this crap.
“Hey, are you—” I stopped dead at the sight of Nicholas.
Shirtless.
With his abs out.
Oh, man.
All the other Santas I’d seen did not have that many abs. Or any abs, unless you counted a beer gut as one ab.
I knew one thing for sure.
Santa had never been so sexy.
“Never mind. I have my answer.”
He grabbed a white t-shirt and looked at me. “What?”
“I was coming to see if you were ready, but obviously not.”
“Sorry. I wanted to change my shirt since I’ve been in that one all day.” He pulled it over his head, regrettably putting his stomach away, and looked at me. A smirk toyed with his lips. “Am I running late, or are you distracted by something?”
I jerked my gaze up from his midsection. “No. You’re fine. But there’s a line, so if we can open early, we probably should.”
“Right. Help me with this padding.”
Ugh.
Did I have to?
With a sigh, I set my clipboard down and picked up the padding for his body. Thankfully it was sewn into the pants and Mom had loosely stitched some in for the arms, but I’d have to tie this one at his back.
Nicholas lifted his arms so I could wrap it around him. We were far too close for comfort right now, and I studiously kept my gaze locked downward on the padding.
I did not want to be this close to him and look into his eyes at the same time. Not after our conversation this morning. It wasn’t that I wasn’t attracted to him because I was.
Hell, if I wasn’t working with him for the next week or so, I’d climb him like a tree and ride him like a hooker at a rodeo.
Given the current circumstances, it was a very bad idea.
