Page 22 of Sexy Claus
He nodded once and the photographer did the same.
Be jolly.
Brenna’s earlier admonition rang through his head when the first little girl handed his ticket to the elf and dragged a harried-looking woman toward him. He’d repaired part of their roof sometime during the spring and she’d invited him to a tea party with her stuffed animal friends.
“Hi, Thanta! I wath exthra good thith year!”
Her enthusiasm and missing top front tooth sparked a twinge of melancholy. He missed that stage, despite how much he’d had to rely on his mom and dad to help him raise his young daughter.
His visitor extended both arms in the universal pick-me-up gesture, prompting him to lift her onto his lap. “I know you were, Iona. You helped your mom and dad with the twins when they were born and made cookies for your grandpa.”
Her eyes widened, likely because he threw in details only an omniscient fictional being would know. “I did!”
“I can’t promise to bring all the presents you want, but you’re welcome to tell me what’s on your Christmas list this year.” He leaned down so she could whisper in his ear.
“Bookth I can read all by mythelf to my little brotherth.” Between her toothlessness and her excitement, she sprayed a few droplets of spit on his neck, but he’d experienced a lot worse when Brenna was a baby. “Pleath and thank you.”
Touched by her sweet demeanor, he sat up and winked at her. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Do you want to have your picture taken with me?”
Her orangey-red curls bounced up and down when she nodded. She smiled in the direction of the camera until the photographer gave her a thumbs-up. Then she flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Merry Chrithmas, Thanta!”
“Merry Christmas, Iona. Be sure to stop and say hi to Mrs. Claus. I think she has a gift for you.” He stood her on the floor and waved her mother across in front of him to follow the girl to the baskets by the exit. Instead of immediately greeting the next kid, he waited for his counterpart to do her thing.
Turning toward Iona, Mrs. Claus greeted her with a welcoming smile and handed her one of the wrapped packages. They exchanged a few words before his fake wife cast a glance toward him, finally allowing him a good look at her face. It was one he knew well, especially those eyes that never quite hid the pain of her childhood.
Christy.
That explained her standoffish behavior during their lunch break.
His heart thudded double-time in his chest for several beats.
She’s here. She didn’t run away. Yet. I just need to get through being the guy in the red suit for a few hours. Then I’ll try to talk to her again.
She whirled away, focusing her attention on the little girl and her mother, but not before he caught the panic that shut him out. After Iona hugged her around the waist, she fussed in the basket, even though it couldn’t possibly need straightening.
She’s going to run as soon as she can.
If she truly didn’t feel the same about him as he did about her, he would let her go. It might rip his heart out of his chest, but he’d already survived nearly two-thirds of his life without her. Fortunately, his gut told him she still loved him too and needed a little more reassurance to tip the balance.
A light tug on his sleeve brought his focus back to his job. “’Scuse me, Santa. It’s my turn, and I have questions.”
The task at hand took precedence at the moment, so he rested his elbows on his knees to give the next visitor his full attention. “I’ll do my best to answer them.”
For the rest of his shift, he tried not to glance at Christy or the line that seemed to go on forever while he listened to wishes and endured the tricky quest for inside information about his workshop, the flying reindeer, and a dozen other topics related to his gig at the North Pole.
He caught his daughter watching him from the other side of the velvet rope several times. Her obvious joy more than made up for dealing with a few greedy kids and some pushy parents.
As the last toddler patted his fake beard and giggled, the photographer snapped a picture and gestured that it was a good one.
Brenna’s laughter rang out in the background noise of people milling around the large booth where they could view and purchase the photos. Hearing that sound made his whole year. After spending most of it healing from her injuries, learning howto live in a world that wasn’t very accommodating, and trying to fit in with friends who now treated her differently, she seemed happy again.
And all of the festival is for her.
His gaze drifted in the direction of the sound, but it stuck on the woman handing out the dozen or so gifts she had left to the elf helpers. A wide smile lit up Christy’s face, reminding him why he’d always been drawn to her—from their first day of kindergarten together to this moment. She went out of her way to share her thoughtfulness, even when she had little to be happy about.
“Hey, Santa! Mrs. Claus!” The photographer waved them toward her. “I need you over here for the official website photo.”
Sven waited for Christy to make the first move and then followed her to the pine-and-ribbon clad trellis. A sprig of green leaves with white berries hung from the top of the arch, tempting him to put it to good use. The Clauses were married, so a chaste kiss under the mistletoe in public would be family friendly.