by Aston, Jana
“You’re feisty,” he calls out from inside the room. I wrinkle my nose, reminding myself I don’t care what he thinks. “Sexy,” he adds, and my jaw drops open. Okay, maybe I care a teeny-tiny bit. I wonder if he’s joking though. I’m wearing jeans and a green turtleneck sweater. He must be joking, unless he’s got a turtleneck fetish.
“Well, you’re exactly what I expected.” I lean against the opposite wall to force myself to stop spying on him through the open doorway.
“How’s that?” He steps out of the office, still buttoning the Santa jacket over the stomach padding. He should look ridiculous—red pants, wide black belt slung over his shoulder and a half-buttoned matching jacket—but he doesn’t. In fact I’m having decidedly un-ridiculous thoughts about him as I watch his hands moving the length of the coat. When he finishes, he winks at me and I blush at having been caught staring.
Maybe I have a Santa fetish? Eww. Is that even a thing?
“You’re an even bigger shameless flirt than I was warned about.”
“Were you? That’s unexpected.” He smiles, appearing more amused than offended.
I shake off the weird sexual tension between us and push past him into the office to grab the beard wig and the hat. Beard wig is the correct terminology, right? Jillian left some boob tape to ensure it stays put. Body tape. I’m sure it’s called body tape. I think? Still, I laugh ’cause we all know the only thing you use body tape for is to ensure a low-cut top doesn’t stray where it shouldn’t.
“You’re going to tape that to my face?” Teddy asks, a look of disbelief crossing his face, eyebrows raised in question when I tear off a strip and attach it to the back of the beard wig.
“Don’t be a baby. It peels right off. Trust me, women go through far worse in the name of beauty.”
“All right, sure.” He waves his arms wide, as if in surrender, and perches against the edge of the desk. “Do with me what you like,” he says. But the way it comes out has my body responding in ways I’d prefer it not to. He says it like an invitation, which I suppose technically it was.
I step forward and attach the mustache portion above his lip, pressing it in place with my fingertips. My thumb inadvertently brushes his lower lip as I do so. I suck in a small breath at the contact, more affected than I have any reasonable right to be. Am I this hard up that I’m attracted to a Santa I met ten minutes ago?
Ugh.
He smells like he just ate a peppermint with an undertone of something else, like a simmering pot of cloves and cinnamon and lust.
And he thinks I’m sexy. I don’t think anyone’s ever referred to me that way before. Maybe it’s happened in bed, but never in the middle of a random day when I’m not even trying.
I scoot in between his spread legs, peeling another strip of tape to attach the bottom half of the beard to his face. There’s an elastic portion that secures it around his head as well—the tape is just a precaution in case any of the little ones get grabby. He looks truly ridiculous now, but damned if I’m not still drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Like snow to December. Like Santa to a chimney. Like a thirsty woman with an overactive imagination in the presences of one of those make-your-own-soda machines with the fancy touchscreen that allows you to make the soda combination of your dreams, like a peach-flavored Sprite or a raspberry Fanta.
Just like that.
“Why did you refer to me as sexy?” I find myself asking. I’ve still got the tape pressed between my fingers but I’m afraid to touch him again. Afraid I’m in some kind of sexy-Santa-induced trance.
“What? Santa isn’t allowed to find turtlenecks sexy?”
Yeah, that wakes me up. I’m the dowdy equipment manager to his sexy quarterback. Abort flirtation immediately before his cheerleader girlfriend shows up and laughs at me.
That might have triggered a bad high school memory. Shake it off, girl.
He’s teasing me. He’s a tease. A flirt. Jillian warned me. Out-of-my-league attractive is what he is. I slap the beard wig on his face with a little more force than necessary and step back, flushed.
“Uh, the kids are waiting,” I stammer as I turn and head for the door.
“Noel.” He says my name in a way that makes me stop and turn back, waiting for him to continue. “It was the way you glared at me the moment we met. Your bossy no-nonsense attitude. How you contradicted every idea I thought I had of you. Sexy as hell.”
I blink. And before I can process that he’s stood, placed the Santa hat on his head and moved to the office door where he pauses with one hand on the doorjamb, leaning in so close I think he might kiss me. He doesn’t. Instead he lowers his voice to a murmur. “Now let’s go ho-ho-ho it up, shall we?”
Chapter 3
Teddy’s an excellent Santa. First-string Santa material, actually. He engages with the kids, makes them laugh for the pictures and he’s so good with the criers they’re giving him hugs and smiling by the time they’ve collected their candy cane, waving bye-bye with chubby mittened hands as their mothers bundle them back into their winter coats. The mothers don’t seem to mind him either. He charms them too, but I notice he isn’t looking at any of them the way he looked at me in the office. He’s charming with everyone but respectful. The added flirtation seems reserved especially for me, a fact that warms me from my head to my toes and all the best bits in between.
“You should line up a few more Santa gigs this week. Everyone in town is looking for a good Santa,” I tell him on the way back to the library office. The event ran longer than I planned, both because Teddy was a chattier Santa than I expected and because we had a huge line of kids. Seems there were a lot of parents in Reindeer Falls hoping their kid would tell Santa what they were hoping to find in their stockings come Christmas morning.
“Uh, I’ll keep that in mind.” Teddy looks like he’s fighting a grin. “I was thinking I’d take a bit of time off this month, but it’s good to know I’ve got options.”
He’s removed the Santa hat and beard as we approached the office, ripping the mustache off with a quick rip, like removing a Band-Aid.
“It’s good money,” I add, a little annoyed with his attitude. He’s being a little selective for someone without a job. “The A-list Santas are paid more than I am.”
“A-list Santas? Did you really just say that?” His eyes twinkle in amusement and I wonder yet again how it’s possible for someone to look attractive in a Santa suit, complete with a fake Santa pot belly.
“We’re in Reindeer Falls. Of course I just said that. There are more full-time Santas employed in Reindeer Falls than anywhere else in the world.”
“Is that so?” He smiles at me and it feels like seduction. I’m not sure how he’s not confusing every woman he comes in contact with, with those smiles. Come hither, they say. Ugh, shameless flirt, I remind myself. It’s second nature for him. Hell, I just watched him charm a bunch of kids—in a non-creepy way—like it was nothing. This is just who he is.
“It is,” I confirm. “Reindeer Falls fun fact.”
He nods. “I’ve been away too long. I’ve forgotten all the fun facts.”
“What is it that you do, normally? When you’re not taking time off,” I add. Which is rather polite of me, I think. Or passive-aggressive. Take your pick.
He gives me a sideways glance before answering. “Investment banking.”
“Investment banking,” I repeat, unsure of what to make of that. When Jillian said he was unemployed I imagined… actually I’m not sure what I imagined. A drummer probably. How cliché of me. “Is it hard to find a job in investment banking?”
“Not really, no. But I’ve been self-employed for some time now.”
Hmph, that’s a nice spin for unemployment.
“Okay, well, this is prime season in Reindeer Falls and the A-list Santas are very well paid. I can put in a good word for you with a few people if you like. One Santa goes down with the flu and everyone in town is scrambling for a decent replacement.”
“You’d d
o that for me, Noel?”
“Sure,” I answer, unsure if he’s amused or touched by my offer. But then he’s reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and I nearly forget how to breathe. His fingertip brushes my earlobe and it’s all I can do not to visibly shudder. I’m not imagining this either. He’s standing all of six inches from me, way, way past an appropriately friendly distance. He’s in kissing range, for sure. And his body language is more than friendly. Definite vibes happening.
He leans in a fraction farther and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t.
A beat, and I’m sure we’re both thinking about it, but I’m waiting on him to pull the kiss trigger.
“Noel, would you have dinner with me?” he asks instead.
You know, the thing is, maybe Jillian is wrong about her brother? I mean, I don’t have a brother myself but I’m sure if I did I’d think he was undateable too.
Gah, no!
What is wrong with me? Why am I attracted to the one guy I was warned away from? Do I have a bad-boy complex I was previously unaware of? Then again, would it be so terrible to have a little fling with a bad boy? It’s not like I have anything else on my Christmas list. And it’s not like he’s that bad. He’s not even in a band.
It’s just dinner, Noel. Way to jump the gun. But still, bad idea.
“Err”—I force myself to look away before I’m seduced by his come-hither sexy eyes and make bad choices—“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not hungry.” That was a solid excuse. Awkward, but solid.
“Hot chocolate then.” He hasn’t moved. He’s still standing close enough that if I moved my head back and he just bent his a little bit our lips would damn near be touching. “Come on, Noel. I’ve been a good sport today, haven’t I? Have a drink with me.”
Well. I run that over in my head.
Hot chocolate is the least threatening of all the drinks, isn’t it? Nothing bad has ever come from having a hot chocolate with someone, probably in the entire history of hot chocolate.
“We’ll have to bring the Santa costume,” I say in place of yes.
“Kinky.” He winks, but playfully. Smiling as he steps through the office door and starts unbuttoning the Santa jacket.
I roll my eyes. “It belongs to the community center. Jillian will kill me if I misplace it.”
“Can’t have that,” he agrees.
* * *
“There’s a coffee shop just across the street,” I suggest as we step outside of the library. There’s a light dusting of snow falling and Teddy is carrying the Santa suit under his arm. There’s Christmas music playing from a sound system wired along Main Street. Believe it or not, the town doesn’t play Christmas music year-round on Main Street. November first to December thirty-first only. So even though I live in a Christmas-themed town, it really does feel extra-special this time of year. The snow doesn’t hurt either.
I live in a small house, just a couple of blocks from the library, so I left my car at home and walked earlier today. That’s part of the charm of living downtown in a small town. You can walk everywhere, even with a little snow. We don’t need cars now either, the library being just a block off of Main Street.
“The North Pole Café?”
“Yup.” They serve drinks in old-fashioned Santa mugs year-round. It’s the best.
“Do you think Santa has a job during his off time?” Teddy asks while we walk, our feet crunching over a layer of snow packed down onto the sidewalks. There’s nothing better than that sound, in my opinion.
“Like a side hustle?” I’m smiling when I ask it, because I love ridiculous theoretical conversations.
“Yeah. Three hundred and sixty-four days off seems excessive.”
“Does he really have three hundred sixty-four days off though? I imagine it’s a full-time gig, overseeing the toy-making and keeping track of everyone on the naughty list.”
“Is the naughty list something you’re familiar with, Noel?”
He’s just opened the door for me at the café. I turn to face him, sure there’s a slight blush on my face but hopeful my cheeks are already red from our brief walk.
“You don’t think I’m naughty list material?”
“I’ve heard you’re the headmistress of the nice list.”
Hmm, headmistress. That has a nice ring to it, even if it’s leader of the good girls.
“Wow, I had no idea I had a reputation,” I tease back.
“Small towns, everyone is always talking.”
When we get to the counter, Teddy insists on paying, which is nice. He also insists on adding a couple of sandwiches and two frosted sugar cookies to the order, “just in case you decide you’re hungry.”
Of course I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since I left my house hours ago.
Which means he’s sort of manipulated me into having dinner, but he’s so charming about it I don’t even mind. Secretly… I’m sort of thrilled. What’s not to like about him, exactly? He’s handsome and charming and there’s something between us that’s just easy. I’m drawn to him and spending time with him is fun. Teddy is fun. And what’s better than having a casual dinner with a man who interests you and who adds dessert without being asked? With a man who referred to you as sexy?
Not much is better than that, my friends.
We grab a table and settle in like a couple of writers with charged laptops and deadlines. Which is to say, our behinds don’t leave those seats for far too long.
“So you’re staying in town for a while?” I ask. I shouldn’t ask. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Not to me. We’re not doing anything, he and I.
“The rest of the month.” He nods his head slightly, a long pause while he looks at me. “Or maybe longer.”
Good Lord, he’s a flirt. I swallow and remind myself of this fact because the way he just looked at me when he said that has caused a dozen tiny reindeer to practice their Christmas Eve flight pattern in my stomach.
“I’d forgotten how charming Reindeer Falls is,” he adds when I don’t say anything, but he’s still looking at me with that thoughtfully sexy look he has down pat.
I grip the Santa mug filled with hot cocoa between my fingers before taking a sip, a dab of whipped cream sticking to my upper lip. I swipe it away the moment I set the mug back on the table.
“Very charming,” I finally agree. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Who’s not into charm?” He flashes a smile at me that would seduce a nun and I’m not sure we’re talking about the same kind of charm.
“What do you like most about living here?” he asks once he’s taken a sip of his own hot chocolate. He wipes away his whipped cream mustache with his tongue. That isn’t distracting at all.
“Everything,” I answer, honestly. “There’s no place like home, you know?”
“Yeah.” He nods, his expression thoughtful, but encouraging me to go on.
“My family is here. I like the size of the town. I like being able to walk to places when I want to. I love the people. I love my job. I love the European architectural flair on Main Street and the way the entire city comes alive at Christmas. I know all the Christmas-themed things might be too much for some people to deal with year-round, but I love it. It’s a bit like living inside of a magical snow globe filled with hope all the time.”
“That’s—”
I interrupt before he has a chance to finish. “Super dorky?”
“No. It’s lovely.”
“Well. I also like that Detroit is only ninety minutes away. So if I want to go to a hockey game or an art museum or catch a flight to Belize, I can. Easy-peasy.”
“Easy-peasy.” Teddy smiles at that description.
“If you could hop on a plane right now and go anywhere, where would you go?”
“That depends,” he replies, easing back in his chair with a small smile on this face like he’s got all the time in the world to play thi
s game and he wants to know all the rules.
“Money is no object,” I clarify. “An unlimited budget and you’ve got nowhere you have to be.” I reach up to give the hair tie in my hair a tug, ensuring my messy bun hasn’t fallen out as it’s prone to do.
“Would you be with me on this hypothetical trip?”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes, playing along, but I’m smiling too. I like being on the hypothetical trip.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in Belize.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m hoping you’d be wearing a wetsuit.”
“A wetsuit,” I reply with a laugh, unsure what the heck he’s talking about or if I should be offended. He’s imagining me in a wetsuit? Not a teeny-tiny string bikini? “Why a wetsuit?”
“Because it’d drive me crazy. It’d be like a tropical version of your turtleneck.” His gaze drops to the shirt in question before he meets my eyes again. “Theoretically prim and proper, but secretly sexy as hell underneath.”
Okay, yeah. He’s really good at flirting. I squirm a little in my seat, wearing my turtleneck and sipping hot cocoa and believing I might actually be sexy to him just as I am. That’s effective flirting. A-game. Major-league. Executive-level. First-class flirting.
Chapter 4
Listen. I’m not exactly sure how it happens but the next thing I know Teddy’s inside my house and we’re making out like teenagers pressed against the front door.
Okay, okay. I know exactly how it happened. He offered to walk me home after our coffee-shop dinner. The snow was starting to come down in big fluffy flakes and we used the Santa suit like umbrellas, each of us with a piece of it over our heads to protect us from getting wet as we walked the couple of blocks to my house. The air was chilly, but not torturously so. Crisp. The kind of weather that made you feel invigorated as opposed to miserable. The sky was dark and clear, holiday lights twinkling and Christmas music playing.
It felt like being on the set of a romantic holiday movie.