Mrs. Claus

by Amanda Lanclos

  There’s no way in hell I’d let her down a second time.

  Her lips are soft and sweet, and might even be a bit swollen from our earlier Christmas Eve indiscretions. It’s been a long morning already, considering we were up half the night. But after a round of sex in bed after waking up, one in the shower, and one at the front door that resulted in us being fifteen minutes late getting out the door, we’re both standing here with those big cheesy looks on our faces.

  It’s her smile that holds all of my attention right now, because this smile is real. Its genuine and happy, and best of all, aimed directly at me. I’m the reason she’s smiling, and for as long as I live, I’ll make sure I keep it that way.

  No, it may not be your classic fairytale love story, but this one’s ours. And sometimes you have to fall apart so that you can come back together, better than before. Noel and I aren’t perfect, but we’re perfect for each other. We’ve both made mistakes, and we’ll continue to do so, but as long as we stick together, we can make it through anything.

  She’s my Christmas miracle.

  The one that got away.

  My Noel.

  My sexy Mrs. Claus.

  Instead of ravishing her in the supply closet the way I’d prefer, I know we have a job to do. Or a community service order to complete, as the judge would say. So instead of throwing her over my shoulder, I open the door. With the woman I love’s hand firmly in my own, I raise my hand to wave and take a step inside the room.

  “Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!”

  Christmas Eve

  5 Years Later

  This is, by far, my favorite time of year. The lights, the tree, the Santa pin placed poignantly over my heart all contribute to the joy I feel today: Christmas Eve. But, for as wonderful as those things are, they aren’t the main reason I love this holiday.

  Brandon holds our three-year-old daughter, Olivia, up and helps her guide the star up to the top of the tree. Even though the decorations have been up for weeks, we started a tradition four years ago on Christmas Eve when we, together, placed the star at the top of the tree on our wedding night. Our own version of a unity candle.

  When I think back over the last five years, I smile like a loon who drank too much spiked egg nog. Brandon changed the course of our future at that community center five years ago. Ever since that day, we were inseparable: engaged over the summer, married on Christmas Eve, and even giving birth to our sweet daughter exactly one year after we said I do.

  Our dark haired, blued eyed angel came screaming into the world after only fourteen hours of labor. The moment that red, wrinkly girl was placed into my arms, I knew what unconditional love was. With the exception of the color of her eyes, Livie is the spitting image of her father. They have the same mannerisms and stubborn disposition that when they go head-to-head over little things like bath time or putting her socks on, it’s comical just to sit back and watch.

  Brandon glances at me over his shoulder, waiting for my approval of the star’s placement. It’s crooked, of course, but I don’t care. “It’s perfect,” I tell them with a big smile.

  “You’re perfect,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss on my temple before placing a matching one on Livie’s forehead.

  “Hardly,” I retort, reaching down to grab the empty box.

  “Maybe not, but you’re perfect for me,” he says with his own big grin.

  I can’t help myself. Dropping the box, I step into his arms and tuck myself firmly at his side. Livie reaches over and grabs the pin on my sweater. “Santa!” she exclaims, which brings matching smiles to our faces.

  Brandon made partner at his law firm two years ago. He works hard, billing as many hours as he can without selling his soul to the business. He’s home most nights by six o’clock, and even takes vacation days leading up to Christmas to help with the Christmas shopping, and holiday gatherings.

  I cut back my hours at the DA’s office when Livie was born. Even though I have a successful career, my focus shifted with my pregnancy. I still work two to three days a week, depending on the caseload, and that’s enough for me. I’m available to take Livie to daycare and pick her up every day. On my off days, we spend time together reading books, baking treats, or just playing in the blanket fort she insists on building almost daily.

  But for as busy as our lives have become, there’s always one thing we still make time to do: volunteer at the community center. Brandon and I have played Santa and Mrs. Claus since that fateful winter, five years ago. Even on our wedding day (which was technically night, since the ceremony was at eight p.m.), we still made time to volunteer. It’s our thing.

  “You about ready for bed?” Brandon asks our daughter.

  “Cookies!” she exclaims, pointing to the end table where we just set out three freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of cold milk.

  “The cookies are ready, sweetie. Santa is going to love them,” I confirm, glancing at my husband.

  “Santa does love mommy’s cookie,” he says with a naughty smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows.

  I laugh and reach for the book that is sitting on the couch, waiting to be read. My heart rate kicks up a million beats per second as I hold the newer version of my favorite book, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. (Remember the copy Brandon had in his bag at the bookstore? He gave that to me for Christmas that year, and I’ve read it every year since.)

  Together, as we’ve done on her birthday for the last three years, we sit down on the couch. Brandon sits Livie down on his lap and wraps his arm around my shoulder. Opening the first page, I snuggle into his embrace and begin to read.

  ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…

  I read with excitement, but this time, it’s not just the book. There’s a surprise waiting for Brandon and Livie on the last page. As I turn each page, getting closer and closer to my surprise, I notice a slight tremor to my hands. They’re nerves of enthusiasm and nothing more. There’s no need to worry about his reaction. I already know what it’ll be.

  Finally, I flip that page.

  And read the slightly edited ending of the story.

  “But I heard her exclaim as she hugged those she holds dear, baby Frost will be making his or her appearance next year.”

  Right below the new words is an ultrasound picture from yesterday’s appointment.

  Livie starts to clap as the book ends, but I’m pretty sure it’s not because of my altered version. Brandon has yet to say anything, so I keep quiet, waiting. My hand shakes as I start to close the book. His hand stops me. With a gentle touch, he reaches forward and tenderly touches the grainy ultrasound photo.

  My vision blurs and it’s not until then that I realize I’m crying. When my eyes connect with his, I see tears in his eyes as well. A wide smile breaks out across his face moments before he pulls me against his hard body and crashes his lips down on mine.

  “A baby?” he whispers, his lips warm and comforting.

  “Yeah.”

  “God, I love Christmas,” he proclaims before placing another chaste kiss on my lips. Turning towards Livie, he tells her, “Livie, guess what? Mommy’s going to have a baby.” There’s no much awe and wonder in the words that I can’t help but slip deeper in love with this man, especially when he reaches over and places his hand on my stomach.

  “Baby!” Livie exclaims, reaching down and touching my belly right beside her father’s hand.

  Christmas Eve will always hold a special meaning for us.

  And it just keeps getting better.

  The End

  About the Author

  Lacey Black is a Midwestern girl with a passion for reading, writing, and shopping. She carries her ereader with her everywhere she goes so she never misses an opportunity to read a few pages. Always looking for a happily ever after, Lacey is passionate about contemporary romance novels and enjoys it further when you mix in a little suspense. She resides in a small town in Illinois with her husband, two children, and a choc
olate lab. Lacey loves watching NASCAR races, shooting guns, and should only consume one mixed drink because she’s a lightweight.

  Email: laceyblackwrites@gmail.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorlaceyblack

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthLaceyBlack

  Blog: https://laceyblack.wordpress.com

  Also by Lacey Black

  Rivers Edge series

  Trust Me, Rivers Edge book 1 (Maddox and Avery) – FREE at all retailers

  ~ #1 Bestseller in Contemporary Romance & #3 in overall free e-books

  ~ #2 Bestseller in overall free e-books on another retailer

  Fight Me, Rivers Edge book 2 (Jake and Erin)

  Expect Me, Rivers Edge book 3 (Travis and Josselyn)

  Promise Me: A Novella, Rivers Edge book 3.5 (Jase and Holly)

  Protect Me, Rivers Edge book 4 (Nate and Lia)

  Boss Me, Rivers Edge book 5 (Will and Carmen)

  Trust Us: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Maddox and Avery)

  ~ This novella was originally part of the Christmas Miracles Anthology

  Bound Together series

  Submerged, Bound Together book 1 (Blake and Carly)

  ~ An International Bestseller

  Profited, Bound Together book 2 (Reid and Dani)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  Entwined, Bound Together book 3 (Luke and Sidney)

  Summer Sisters series

  My Kinda Kisses, Summer Sisters book 1 (Jaime and Ryan)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  My Kinda Night, Summer Sisters book 2 (Payton and Dean)

  My Kinda Song, Summer Sisters book 3 (Abby and Levi)

  Standalone

  Music Notes, a sexy contemporary romance standalone

  *Coming Soon from Lacey Black

  Book 4 in the Summer Sisters series, My Kinda Mess (Lexi and Linkin)

  Copyright © 2017 Laramie Briscoe

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. The author recognizes the copyright of Etsy and Starbucks. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  “Riles, please don’t slam the door when you go leave. Your brother’s asleep,” I caution my daughter as she puts her hand on the doorknob to head downstairs to Trick’s shop. “You know he will scream bloody murder if you wake him up from the nap I just got him down for.”

  She rolls her eyes at me, and I have to count to ten when she huffs. “I know, Mom. You tell me every time.”

  I close my eyes as she quietly goes out the door but loudly stomps down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have to tell you if you wouldn’t do it,” I mumble as I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t wake Declan up with her loud footsteps.

  For a good three minutes, I stand in the living room, waiting to see if he wakes. When I’m in the clear, I let out the breath I was holding and shuffle to the kitchen. There’s dishes I didn’t get to last night and the thawing hamburger I’ve laid out for tacos. They’re still a favorite in this house.

  A warm smile spreads across my face as I think back to the first time we had tacos. Riley and I had come to have dinner with Trick, and we’d all been getting to know one another. Back then none of us were sure where life would take us. Where we’d all fit after Trick did his community service hours—which included spending time with a child who had no male figure in her life. Glancing down at my wedding ring, my eyes mist and my heart thumps harder as I think about the broken road that lead me straight to Patrick “Trick” Tennyson.

  I’d been the divorced, single mother of an adorable daughter who just wanted a father figure in her life. Tired and sick of doing it all alone, I was working full-time during the day and then running my own Etsy shop at night. He’d been an ex-con trying to get through his probation requirements so he could operate his motorcycle repair business.

  Now married, my Etsy shop is full-time, Trick has expanded his own business, hiring three employees in the last two years, and we’ve added to our family. Trick adopted Riley, now we both have the last name Tennyson. And almost two years ago, we welcomed Declan. We live in what was once two apartments, now converted into one, over the shop, with our lazy cat, Tux. To put it mildly, life is great; except for the sometimes exasperated attitude of a ten-year-old who’s way too big for her britches. Who am I kidding though? I wouldn’t change our lives for all the money in the world. I’m right where I want to be—even if it is elbow deep in a sink full of dishes, while I watch the snow come down outside and wait with bated breath for bedtime so I can spend a quality evening with my husband. Truth is, I’m living the dream, even if some nights it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open and not fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Finishing up the dishes, I glance at the clock on the wall and realize I have precious minutes before Declan will be awake. I need to make the most of them.

  Grabbing the Starbucks drink Trick brought me earlier, I take a healthy sip, slap my cheeks to wake myself up, and have a seat in front of my computer. These Etsy orders won’t fill themselves, and the fact of the matter is I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Well, maybe I would have more sleep, a cleaner house, and a couple of nights a week alone with my husband, but I also know I’d miss the chaos. We seem to thrive on it, and if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that Trick and I? We can make it through damn near anything. So what if we never sleep and sometimes the only alone time we get is when he pulls me close in the middle of the night. I’d do this all again a million times with him by my side.

  A smile spreads across my face as I realize how true those words are, and when I hear quiet cries from my son’s bedroom, I go to him with the same smile on my face. He’s the spitting image of his father, and I know one day he’ll make some girl’s heart skip a beat, the same way my husband does for me.

  “Are you sure you’re okay watching both kids for a few hours,” I question my right-hand man, Giovanni (that’s how you spelled it in the book), better known to everyone around here as G. He and I had a tumultuous relationship for a few months when he turned eighteen, he was searching for a father-figure, and I wasn’t ready to be one for him. Mistakenly, because I was friends with his mother, he thought I really was his father, but given that he would have been conceived when I was in my early teens, and I never slept with his mom, he gave up on that notion. Instead, he grew up, matured, and realized I could be a role model for him, if he would put aside his attitude and accept our relationship for what it was. Now we’re close, and he’s one of the only people in the world I trust with my kids and my business.

  “No worries, my man.” He gives me a grin. “Last time Riles was over, she programmed all her favorite stuff into her own Netflix profile. All I gotta do is set her up in front of it and keep Dec occupied. No big deal, really.”

  “Ana coming to help you?” I mention the girl he’s been seeing for the last six months. He introduced her to the kids last time they were over, which is how I know he’s serious about her. As serious as a twenty-one-year-old can be. He’s never introduced or had another woman around my kids before. G is an old soul though, having to grow up way before he necessarily should have, and he’s taken that responsibility seriously for t
he last few years. He’s grown into a good man, and I’m blessed that he agreed to be part of my team.

  He blushes and I barely refrain from giving him shit. He gives me enough of it on a daily basis about how much I love my wife, but I try to remember what it was like as a young guy. Ya know, trying to navigate feelings and women who were just as confused as I was. He ducks his head.

  “Yeah, she’s bringing dinner and some baking stuff. Riley enjoyed baking cookies with her last time.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is Ana where she learned that amazing snickerdoodle recipe? If so, I totally approve of this idea.” My hand rubs my stomach in a circular motion. I’d had to run a couple extra miles thanks to the amount of cookies I’d eaten, but fuck they were good.

  “Yeah, she works at the bakery over on Fifth, which is where I met her.”

  Suddenly it all makes sense. “G, are you paying for all those free lunches they’ve been sending over this way? You’re telling her that we’re ordering so you can see her, and you’re telling us it’s free so we’ll order?”

  The blush is down to his neck now. “Maybe. But you know as well as I do, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do for the girl who’s captured his attention.”

  He speaks the truth, which is why I’m pawning my kids off on this barely-adult so my wife and I can spend a few hours alone—even if we are finishing up Christmas shopping. However, I know how much I pay G, and he can’t afford to be doing this all the time. “Tomorrow lunch is on me from the bakery. A thank you for watching the kids.”

  He doesn’t argue, and for that I’m grateful.

  “Daddy!” The loud voice of my daughter can be heard before I can see her as she comes down from our apartment into the main area of the shop.

  “Not so loud, Sprite,” I caution, using the nickname I gave her the first day I met her. She’d been so little with huge curls, she’d looked like a fairy out of some children’s book. The nickname has stuck, even if sometimes, now that she’s older, she turns her nose up at it.

  “That’s what Mom said.” She shoots me a glare. “Dec’s asleep, but I have to tell you what happened today!” Her excitement is contagious.