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“Who’s ready to meet Santa?” Cori shouted, and the kids all yelled back that they were. “Okay! I’ll go get him, and you make sure you have your Christmas wish ready.”
The children all looked so excited; it was hard not to feed off their energy. I felt myself smiling wide before I even noticed Saint walking out, waving his hands. The kids started jumping up and down, and it was my job to make sure they visited him one at a time.
I walked the first little girl in line over toward Saint and put her on his knee. My eyes roamed up his body and stopped on his blue irises. He was staring at me, and I suddenly found it unfair that this girl got to sit on his lap. I wanted to be on Saint’s lap. Naked. With no kids around.
Swallowing hard, I watched as he interacted with the little girl, asking her what she wanted for Christmas and if she’d been naughty or nice.
The girl giggled. “Nice, Santa. Well, except that one time I pushed Bobby off the monkey bars because he called me four eyes.”
She adjusted the pair of glasses sitting on her nose, and Saint said something softly to her that I couldn’t quite overhear.
When she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard, I felt pride surge inside my chest. I didn’t even know what he’d said to her, but it must have been exactly what she needed. This man was truly something else. They didn’t make guys like Saint, and I’d always known it. It was why even when I’d had boyfriends in the past, I had known they weren’t the ones for me. A single phone call from Saint asking me to give him a chance, and I would have dropped each and every one like a hot potato. It wasn’t fair of me to keep dating guys who would always be stuck in second place.
Then again, it wasn’t fair to me to keep pining over the one guy who wouldn’t give me the time of day. If we weren’t supposed to be together, then how come I never liked anyone more than I liked him? Why couldn’t I see myself with anyone else when I imagined my future?
“Hot elf”—Saint’s deep voice hit my ears, and I turned to look at him questioningly—“can you get the next kid?”
“Sorry,” I said before returning my focus to the task at hand.
The little girl was already almost out the front door with a candy cane in her hand and a giant smile on her face as she talked animatedly to her mom.
When I bent down to grab the next little boy in line by the hand, I heard an intake of breath that sounded more like a hiss, and I noticed that the kid’s dad was staring directly at my ass, his eyes roving the length of my body.
I stood up quickly and made sure my skirt was back in place, attempting to cover everything even though I knew it barely could.
“Here you go,” I said to Saint, who was currently shooting daggers from behind his old-man spectacles at the dad who had been eyeing me.
Even behind the white gloves that he wore, I could see his hands gripping the arms of his chair, his fingers digging into the fabric, like he was forcing himself to stay seated instead of getting up and charging like a bull who saw nothing but red.
That was twice today that Saint had acted like a jealous boyfriend. Maybe my Christmas wish was finally coming true. The one I’d written on a separate list since I had been eight.
Would Santa put Saint under my tree this year? I sure as hell hoped so.
TAKING HER HOME
SAINT
The door slammed as the last child exited the building, and I blew out a long breath, leaning my head against the oversize chair and forcing my eyes to stay open. No one had warned me how exhausting it was, playing a role for five hours straight. The constant smiling, ho ho ho’ing, and being “on” for every man, woman, and child.
“You two were great. Thank you so much for doing that,” Cori said, and it made me feel like I’d done something good even though I’d only agreed to do this because I knew Ivy was doing it too.
Selfish? A little.
It had started snowing pretty hard while we were indoors, playing make-believe for the kids. The once-clear windows were now frosted over with ice. The weather here could be dangerous even if you grew up driving in it. Storms were unpredictable and often reminded you who was in charge.
Note: it wasn’t you or your car.
“I have to pee. Be right back,” Ivy said before disappearing, her skirt swishing from side to side as she jogged toward the bathroom door.
Cori started stacking some of the decorations, putting them into a pile, and I realized that I needed her on my side. A girl’s best friend was either your greatest ally or your worst enemy.
“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you let me take Ivy home.”
Cori’s gaze swept to mine, a giant smile on her face. “Twenty bucks?” She stood up tall and put her hand on her hip, like that amount of money wasn’t nearly enough to buy her as my co-conspirator.
“Fifty,” I countered, and she gave me an easy nod.
“I’ll take fifty.”
