Page 2 of Naughty Elf: Aster

“I think it’s best you take these away, and we’ll talk about this later—after I’ve had an awful lot of hot cocoa and something—anything—to get this taste out of my mouth.”

“Yes, Santa.” I scurried away, halfway surprised to see that Ernie wasn’t with me. He was usually my ride or die.

I knew Santa intended for me to go back to my place, but I had to stop at the kitchen first and see with my own eyes what went wrong. Sure enough, when I opened the container ofsugar, it wasn’t sugar at all. Somebody had filled it with salt, just as I’d suspected. Lots and lots of salt.

The place was a mess, and I spent the next hour throwing out all the cookies and cleaning up. I wouldn’t make more unless Santa asked me to. He hadn’t told me to stay in my place specifically, but it was what he meant. I’d do exactly that after finishing this because leaving this mess for someone else felt like doubling my mistake.

In the best-case scenario, he’d forgive me, and I’d still have my job. Worst-case, I’d lose my job. Santa wasn’t like some of the others who sent the naughty elves away—at least not that I’d heard.

Crap.

I didn’t want to be sent away.

This is my home, and I love it here.

Please let him not be like the others. Please let him give me a second chance.

Chapter Two

Wolfe

Shutting my laptop, I breathed out a sigh of relief that all my work was done for the year. I’d pushed myself to the limit of sleepless nights and burnout during the fall in order to take the last six weeks of the year completely off. It helped that my son’s school had big breaks during that time as well.

“Dad,” said five-year-old Noel, tugging on the flannel pajama pants that I had yet to change out of, “I’m hungry.”

When he woke up an hour ago, I gave him some apple slices and a cheese stick from the fridge to tide him over while I received notice from my clients that they had approved the projects and required no more changes. With my job as a digital creator, there always seemed to be changes, but I was hoping there was no more and I was thankful to be right.

“Okay. What do you want? Oatmeal? Eggs? Pick your poison,” I said, slapping my thighs and getting up from my desk for the last time this year. I unplugged my laptop and placed it inside the cabinet. There would inevitably be e-mails, especially regarding projects for the new year, but those could be handled on my phone or tablet.

“I don’t want poison. That’s nasty.”

Chuckling, I picked Noel up and placed him on the counter. He’d loved to help me cook since he was little. When he was a baby, I would perch him on my hip while I stirred things in a pot, turning my body away from the heat, of course. “Then what do you want?”

He tapped his little finger on his chin and looked in the air. The kid cracked me up on a daily basis. He came home from shifter school with something new almost every week. “How about eggnog pancakes?”

I got out a huge bowl, not surprised that would be his choice. Not the eggnog part but pancakes, in general. “What about protein? You know your wolf needs protein.”

“Oh yeah.” He looked down at his stomach. “Do you want ham or sausage?”

I had to turn around to hide my smile and quell my laughter. I’d certainly never told him his wolf was in his stomach, but he had decided it when he first began to hear his beast’s voice. He hadn’t shifted yet, but he would any day now.

“What’s the verdict?” I asked, going to the fridge to get the eggnog and whatever meat he decided he wanted.

“He wants ham. But you have to fry it up. No microwave.”

We agreed on that. Both of our wolves were picky about food. “You got it. Want to help or watch?”

He bounced his butt on the counter. “I want to stir and crack the eggs.”

“Perfect.”

I set up the griddle and, while he stirred, I fried the ham on the stovetop. Once he’d gotten the texture right, we plopped pancake batter on the griddle and watched them bubble up. Noel looked up at me with those baby blues and my heart constricted, remembering David. He’d been an incredible alpha. He was loving and kind. Never raised his voice at me, not even once. Sometimes, when Noel would smile a certain way, I was instantly transported to a time when I was happily mated and gave no second thought to whether or not David and I would be together until our old age—maybe forever.

It all changed three years ago, but some days it felt like minutes ago.

He’d been in a car accident on his way home from work. He never saw the eighteen-wheeler coming. The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel, failing to stop for rest and thinking coffeewould be enough to keep him awake. David and Noel, and I paid the price for his mistake.

“All right, pancakes and ham.”