Bad Boy Santa: A Second Chance Christmas Romance Read online

  Liv was squatting down, talking to the next child in line. So far, that was the best part, watching her with the kids. Well, watching her move around in that outfit, I meant. The way she bent down to talk to them often gave me a brief glimpse at her luscious cleavage. Or if she was facing away from me, her little green tunic would ride up in the back, and I’d see more of her cute thighs. It was enough to make Santa want to loosen his trousers.

  But Mr. Reynolds had been right, she was good at what she did. Though Chris could have fucking warned me who it was. She clearly had no clue who I was, which was good. The last thing these kids needed was to see Santa stabbed through the heart by an elf wielding a candy cane.

  I’d seen in the mirror that I looked nothing like myself, so I probably didn’t need to worry. Plus, we’d been so rushed that we’d only spoken when she brought each new child up to see me.

  Toward eleven, though, there was a slight lull in the crowd, and Liv collapsed on a little green stool a few feet away from me, her legs pressed tightly together. Not that I was looking.

  “Wow, that was quite a rush for your first day. How are you holding up?”

  “Not bad,” I said, which was a fair assessment. The mass of crying, whiny kids had been a lot to take in, but I’d been in war zones. I’d seen worse.

  “I’m Olivia,” she said, and she reached over, holding out her hand.

  Fuck. I should have thought ahead about this. My mind spun but came up blank. “I’m… Tog.” It was the nickname the guys in the unit I’d shadowed had given me. Short for photographer.

  “Todd?” she said, tilting her head to the side.

  Yeah, that was better. “That’s right.”

  “Nice to meet you, Todd.” She smiled at me, but I was pretty fucking sure she wouldn’t be smiling if she knew who was under the hair, the suit, and the padding.

  Olivia

  I’d forgotten how tiring this could be. Sure, I worked with kids every single day, but that was in a classroom where they knew they had to behave. Here in the department store, they were excited, anxious, scared, jacked up on sugar, or all of the above. It was my job to help keep them in an orderly line, to talk to them, to engage them. Most of their parents couldn't be bothered to stop swiping at their phones.

  “Do you know much about elves?” I asked a cheerful little boy who’d said his name was Jamal.

  “No,” he said, his wide eyes showing that he’d like to.

  I sat down on the edge of the stage so I could hear him better. My back was to Todd, but I could feel his eyes on me somehow. Or maybe that was wishful thinking? He seemed like a nice enough guy though he was rather clueless about being Santa. It had been a shock to see a pair of sharp, green eyes peering out at me from behind the white beard and eyebrows. He was obviously a lot younger than Mr. Reynolds. But other than his eyes, I couldn’t see much about him. But those vivid green eyes seemed to follow me a lot.

  “Elves are like ordinary people. We sleep. We watch TV. And we eat—but not the same things that you do. Guess what we eat?”

  “What?” he said, fascinated.

  “Only foods that are red and green.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep! Can you think of a food that's red?”

  “Strawberries?”

  “Yes! I love strawberries. Now how about something that’s green?”

  This one took him a little longer. “Lettuce?”

  “Good!”

  “And an apple,” he said as I took his hand. It was his turn.

  “That’s right. Apples can be both red and green, so they're my favorite food.” I led him over to Todd. “Santa, this is Jamal. He’s been a really good boy this year.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jamal. Come on up here.” Todd reached over and picked the boy up as if he weighed no more than a gallon of milk. Whoever he was, he was strong.

  I stepped back to the edge of the stage and took some pictures with the digital camera as Jamal’s mother wrote her e-mail address down on a clipboard. The best pictures would be emailed to her this evening. A minute or two later, Jamal skipped off the stage to his mother. “Mama, I talked to him. He was so nice!” Score one for the rookie Santa, I thought with a smile.

  A few hours later, he was starting to flag. It was hard working with kids all day if you weren’t used to it. I told him to take a break while I entertained the half dozen kids in line. Over the years I’d done this, I’d invented quite a few stories about the daily lives of Santa’s elves. After Todd disappeared, I regaled the kids with what kind of car elves drove (minivans), where they slept (in elf-size Christmas stockings they used as a sleeping bag) and so on.

  I was just about to tell the waiting kids about what kind of stores elves shopped in when I saw Jamal and his mother approaching. Jamal walked right to the front of the line and handed me a bag. “What’s this?”

  His mom smiled at me, half embarrassed and half proud. “He said you told him that elves only eat red and green food, so he insisted that we go to every place in the food court until we found something you could eat.”

  He’d done that for me? What a sweet little guy. Of course, who knows what he’d found. Opening the bag, I lifted out a white Styrofoam container. “It’s tomato soup,” Jamal said, beaming at me. Setting it aside, I found a wad of napkins. Pulling them out, I felt something inside and unwrapped them to find dill pickle slices.

  “Thank you so much,” I said, hugging the little boy. “You don’t know how hard it is for elves to find something to eat in a place like this.”

  Jamal hugged me back, the huge smile on his face showing that he was pleased with himself. “We got something for Santa, too.”

  “That’s so sweet of you, but he’s not here right now.” But Jamal’s mother nodded at something behind me, and I turned. Todd was sitting at his chair, leaning on an armrest, his long legs spread wide. He was looking at me intensely in a way that made me wonder how long he’d been watching.

  Jamal took him a large, cellophane-wrapped chocolate cookie. We both thanked him again as he and his mom left, and before I went to get the next child, Todd winked at me. “I get a chocolate chip cookie, and you get tomato soup and pickles. Seems like elves always get the short end of the stick. Got any stories about that?”

  I laughed and brought the next child up to him. The next time there was a lull, he unwrapped his cookie and brought it to his mouth, placing a hand on his beard. But when he saw me looking, he stopped. Maybe he didn’t want to get crumbs in his beard? Or maybe he didn’t want to take off his beard in public? There weren’t any kids here right now, but who knew when there might be again.

  Todd made it through that first day and, somewhat to my surprise, was back again on Monday evening for our six o'clock to eight thirty shift. Truthfully, he didn’t seem to be much of a kid person, but he was always polite to them. By Wednesday, he was starting to open up a little with them too, really listening to what they were saying instead of just asking standard, one-size-fits-all questions.

  And even when he had a child—or two—on his lap, he still watched me. It wasn’t an uncomfortable experience, just an unusual one. I worked at an elementary school, so my world consisted mostly of children and my fellow teachers, nearly all of whom were female. I wasn’t used to being around a man who showed a clear interest in me. Not that he ever did anything more than look.

  On Wednesday night after our shift was done, I actually asked him if he wanted to go to a coffee shop and get something to drink, and he’d turned me down. Which was no problem, but still—I was kind of hoping to get to know him better. And okay, I can admit that I was really dying to know what he looked like without all the white hair and the padded suit. But he was always dressed as Santa when I arrived, and after our shift, he went to an employee area in the back of the store while I went home. Not that it mattered what he looked like, but still, I was curious. All I could see was his eyes. Their amazing shade of green was pretty damn captivating.

  By Thursday, we
were working really well together. We had our routine down. Perhaps I was a little too relaxed because something happened that I wasn’t prepared for. I was telling two darling little girls waiting in line about elves’ favorite game, a version of hide and seek that also involved an elf’s magical ability to turn into a statue, when I realized that it was time to snap a picture of the brother and sister on Todd’s lap. I did so hastily and then led the little girls up to him. One was a little shy, so I held her hand while her sister sat on Todd’s lap.

  “And what do you want, Tracy?”

  “A skateboard,” she said clearly. Her shyer sister had only mumbled something.

  “A skateboard? Don’t you mean roller skates?” Todd asked.

  “Girls can ride skateboards, too, Santa,” I interjected. “No Y Chromosome necessary.”

  “What’s a why-cromaphone?” Tracy asked, and Todd grinned. At least I think it was a grin. It was a little hard to tell with that big bushy white beard.

  “I apologize, Tracy. I’ll be sure to get you a skateboard.”

  I frowned at him. He wasn’t supposed to promise specific things. “We’ll have to see about that, Santa. Don’t you remember the Chief Elf telling you about the wheel-maker strike?”

  “Oh yeah. I think I remember something about that on my Facebook feed,” he said, and now it was my turn to smile. That was pretty funny.

  The two little girls were next, and they pretty much ignored Todd as they begged me for more stories about the life of an Elf. After I returned them to their parents, and I turned to find that the next parent had already walked onto the stage with two kids in tow. I frowned. They were supposed to wait for me to get them.

  The woman wore a business suit and high heels. She was probably one of those I’m-important-so-don’t-make-me-wait types. Indeed, she was looking at her watch right now. And then she looked up.

  “Olivia!” she cried, and I gaped at her in shock as I recognized her. I’d known Beatrice had gotten married and had kids, but I hadn’t thought I’d see her here. I definitely hadn’t wanted to see her here. “How are you?” she said as if we were long lost friends. And I supposed that technically we were long lost friends. Very lost—with good reason. We’d been in many of the same classes at school, but we hadn’t been all that close. Still, we were civil, at least until the night of the prom. After that, I’d never wanted to see or speak to her again. Or him.

  “So good to see you, darling.” She leaned in and did some kind of idiotic air kiss in the direction of my cheeks, but at least she didn’t try to hug me. Her kids were probably already messed up enough by having her as a mother, they didn’t need to witness her getting bitch-slapped by an elf.

  I mumbled something that might have been “you too”—or a slightly less polite phrase that rhymed with it—and then I focused on her kids. One was a little boy of about three. I picked him up and balanced him on Todd’s thigh.

  Beatrice handed me the toddler, and I took her, softening a little at the sight of her little pink cheeks. Beatrice watched as I positioned her daughter on Todd’s other leg, waiting to let go until I was sure he had a firm hold on her.

  “And who’s your friend?” Beatrice said, batting her eyes in Todd’s direction.

  “This is Santa,” I said firmly. “Now if you’ll step back for a moment, I’ll snap a picture.” Or her neck. Either way.

  She stood back until I was done with the digital camera and then moved in. I picked up her daughter, and she grabbed her son by the hand, tugging him off Todd’s leg. “Don’t I get to sit on your lap now? I’ve been an awfully good girl.”

  Damn, she was blatant. All you could see of Todd was his eyes and his nose. Well, and his hands. Yet that was enough to have her throwing herself at him. And she was married!

  She must have seen me glaring at her. “What? Santa’s a big boy. He can answer for himself.” We both looked at him. He glanced for a moment at me, probably seeing my red face as I cradled the little girl. Then he looked over at Beatrice. “Sorry, ma’am. There’s a weight limit to ride this ride.”

  Beatrice gawked at him for a few moments, her mouth open. I stared at Todd in shock, too, but with glee bubbling up inside me. After another long moment, Beatrice pulled herself together. Her mouth snapped shut, and she pasted a smile on her face. “Of course,” she said as she took her child back from me. “See you later, Olivia. Santa.”

  She swept her kid away, her head held high. But I wanted to kiss Santa on his barely visible lips. He winked at me, and I held up my hand. He gave me a high five, and I bounced away to get the next child in line.

  I couldn’t stop grinning for the rest of the evening.

  Jackson

  “And what do you want for Christmas? A Nintendo? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a PlayStation?”

  Liv shot me a look, so I moved on. “Have you been good this year? Really? What have you done to be good?” The little boy eagerly spoke about his recent good deeds, making it sound like being good was an easy thing. I was living testament to the fact that it wasn’t. It was Friday, which meant I’d officially been Jolly Old Saint Nicholas for one week. And it had been hell.

  Not working with the kids. That part was not as bad as I’d feared. Liv did most of the hard stuff. She was great with them, calming the crying ones, redirecting the hyper ones, drawing out the shy ones. And the stories she told were pretty damn entertaining. The other day, she’d told a tall tale about how all elves took a year off when they turned sixteen to live in a tree house by themselves to contemplate if they truly wanted to devote their lives to making toys. It seemed to be loosely based on that gap-year thing Amish teenagers did before committing themselves to a lifetime of no pizza, beer, or indoor plumbing.

  Midway through her story, half the kids in line were sitting on the floor at her feet as if it were a goddamn story hour. Even the kid on my lap had stopped his recitation of the three hundred presents he wanted to listen to her. And I did, too. She was a wonderful storyteller.

  I thought about that for a bit. Had she been like that in high school? Like me, she’d been on the newspaper staff, mostly writing feature articles. But I thought I remembered her showing me a creative writing assignment or two for her English class. We’d been friends back then. Best friends, really. Up until the night of the prom.

  So dealing with the kids wasn’t as bad as I thought, but it was still an exhausting job because I had to pretend to be a decent person instead of a pathetic excuse for a human being. That meant getting there at five thirty each evening to start putting on my Santa costume. She worked all day and arrived on time, my days were empty, yet it was still a struggle to get here each evening.

  And then there was the whole being sober thing. Frankly, it sucked. But I managed to get here sober and on time most days. It helped that I only had to shave every so often. The stubble didn’t show under the fake beard, anyway.

  Then once I was here, she did most of the hard work, leaving me free to joke with the kids and watch her. And boy, did I watch her. The way she moved. The way she smiled. She’d been cute at eighteen, but now she’d matured into a lovely young woman. A full-figured woman. A goddess, actually. I never would have guessed that at age twenty-four, she’d look like this. Her thick red hair swirled around her shoulders and bounced when she walked. Her breasts really filled out the scooped neckline of the tunic.

  And her hips… I could spend hours watching her hips sway as she walked. And I frequently did. She was tireless, moving around the stage, snapping pictures, getting up and down to talk to the kids. And bending over as she reached down to pick up stray kids or dropped toys. Her elf duties required her to bend over a lot. So yeah, there were some definite perks to being Santa.

  But tonight she wasn’t as fun to watch. I mean, she was still gorgeous, but she had less bounce in her step, literally and figuratively. She seemed down, but we were busy and there was no time to ask her about it. “Who’s next?” I asked.

  She led a trembling li
ttle boy up to me, his small hand in hers. “This is… this is…” She bent down. “I’m sorry, honey, I forgot your name.”

  What? She never forgot a child’s name. Not once in a week. What was going on?

  The little boy whispered in her ear. “This is Dustin. He’s eager to talk to you, but a little shy.” She sat Dustin on my knee, but then crouched down next to him, talking to him, encouraging him to tell me what he wanted. But so far, he’d only whisper to her, not me. It gave me a chance to study her up close. Her face was a picture of concentration, but I sensed tension in the set of her mouth. She’d been upset about something all evening.

  Briefly, I wondered if it was me. She’d asked me for coffee the other day and I’d turned her down. I had to. I couldn’t show up at the coffeehouse in full Santa gear, and if I took it off, she’d see who I was and that would be the end of both our jobs. It was unlikely Old Man Reynolds would continue to employ a Santa whose elf wasn’t speaking to him. And if I didn’t work here, I wouldn’t see her every day.

  But maybe my answer hadn’t mattered to her. Maybe she’d just been asking to be friendly. Still… the possibility that she wanted to go out with me crossed my mind. That was a tempting thought, but of course it would never work. Not unless she’d somehow consent to being blindfolded for the evening. A preposterous idea, but nonetheless, one that made my balls ache and had me thinking inappropriate thoughts for quite some time.

  Finally, we made it to the end of the line. It was already fifteen minutes past the end of our shift, and the store would be closing soon. I said goodnight to Liv and headed back to the stockroom where my clothes were. But instead of changing when I got there, I sat down on a stool, wishing I had a beer. Clearly, something was bothering her. And it was arrogant to think it had anything to do with me. She didn’t even know me. But maybe that meant I could help her. She’d never accept Jackson Young’s help, but she might accept Todd’s. Didn’t they say that it was sometimes easier to open up to a stranger? I’d found that to be true after I came back from the Middle East. Well, not that I’d opened up to much of anyone, but if I had, it would have been a stranger. Most likely at a bar.