Page 23 of Naughty Elf: Merry

“Did you hear what I was thinking?”

“Hear it? No, but you say a lot with your eyes.” He leaned in close and whispered only for my ears. “Do dragon mates hear each other’s thoughts?”

“I thought maybe it was an elf thing,” I whispered back. “But I like this better. It means you were looking at me.”

“You’re hard to ignore.” As was he.

The instructor had us set our best candy creation on the table and the class voted on the best candy cane. As a shock to no one, Merry came in first. He was Christmas magic wrapped in holiday cheer, and somehow, I got to call him mine.

Chapter 17

Merry

“Where are we going?”

Hernan insisted I wear my warmest clothes. I didn’t have many, as we’d only been on one shopping expedition. Other than organizing for the festival, which was mostly done at home, I rarely went anywhere that required a lot of outdoor time.

That was a little weird to say or think, but it was my choice. Sure, I could have gone out for coffee or lunch, but I was busy, and Hernan’s workshop was on his property. I wanted to be where he was.

Maybe that would wear off a little as I got more comfortable in this new life. Perhaps that would be healthier, but in the first bloom of new love couples wanted to spend every minute together. And we did.

“You’ll see.”

It was my understanding that most dates involved movies or restaurants, art galleries or museums, or like the one we went on—a class. But ours was going to be cold, probably outside. Coming from the North Pole, lower temperatures didn’t botherme. I could toboggan with the best of them, ice skate, or build a snowman faster than anyone in Christmas Village.

It was odd thinking of a dragon living amidst the snow. I always imagined dragons living a solitary life in a cave tucked into a mountain cliff, not in the middle of a town. His scales and thick veiny skin kept him warm I supposed. He could melt snow and ice with his flames, so did he enjoy the cold?

Wherever we were going, a lot of other people were headed in the same direction. We congregated at a park in the center of town, and a man I recognized as the mayor made a speech about the festive season and how fortunate we were to have Santa with us.

“Huh? Santa’s here?” I stood on tiptoes, straining to catch a glimpse of which Santa was about to appear.

“Not one of your Santas,” Hernan whispered.

“Someone’s impersonating Santa?” People around us shushed me, and a couple with children put their hands over the kids’ ears and glowered at me.

What’d I do? I couldn’t allow people to think that the pretend Santa was real.

Hernan slung an arm around my shoulder. “You told me we had to keep it a secret that there’s more than one Santa.”

“Yes, but?—”

He put a finger to my lips. “And all the Santas are frantically busy preparing for Christmas Eve, right?”

“Of course.”

“So people who dress up as Santa help the real Santas do their job. If all the Santas had to sit in city malls and attend tree-lighting ceremonies, no one would get their stockings filled on December 24.”

I reluctantly agreed. “I guess so.” It seemed like cheating, but it probably made people happy.

“Let’s begin the countdown,” the mayor yelled into his microphone.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

The huge pine tree behind the mayor lit up, and everyone cheered and clapped. I had to admit it looked good, with its pink, blue, and silver lighting.

“Santa!” the crowd shouted as a sleigh drawn by horses slid over the tamped-down snow.

Children crowded around the sleigh as “Santa” handed out presents and yelled, “Ho, ho, ho.”