Luke’s smile grows with amusement. And did his eyes twinkle in delight? Damn, his costume is really messing with my hormones.
“Sounds about right.” He nods, chuckling.
“Yo! Santa! We need you over here,” a voice calls. Luke’s eyes shift over my shoulder. Giving a dismissive wave, he looks back at me with a shake of his head.
“Duty calls.”
A witty quip is on the tip of my tongue, ready to burst free when his hand comes up and brushes down the side of my face, rendering me mute. I stop breathing—something I seem to do a lot of these days with him around. A gentle touch from him causes my body to turn into lava and all rational thought to leave my brain. The backs of his fingers glide down my cheek, lingering on the edge of my jaw before they stop at the base of my neck, turning and giving me a squeeze. He steps closer. So close, my nose would have touched his chest if my head hadn’t been angled upward. With another squeeze, he softly speaks. “Close your eyes.” My lids go heavy, ready to obey his every command. This is it. Could this be it? Is he going to kiss me? “And put on the costume. Don’t think about it.”
My eyes shoot open. Mother fudging mistletoe. He isn’t seducing me. He’s trying to help me get dressed for the event.
Once again, I’ve proven that this man can make me a fool. Snorting out a puff of air, I nod, dropping my chin to my chest. “Yeah. Good advice. Thanks.”
I take a step back, needing to put some space between us. His hand is still clasping my neck, but when I move again, it falls away. His smile dims. “I’ll see you out there, Santa. Go check your list, or whatever.”
Luke is looking at me strangely. It’s then I realize I’m giving him a crazy grin, trying to overcompensate how weird I’m feeling with forced joy. Turning down the wattage of my smile, I spin around. Grabbing my costume, I march my way to the bathroom. Not looking back.
Cheese and rice, when was I going to get over this stupid lust crush? I’m a grown woman. Independent and kick-ass. The only obsession I needed was the one I had with sugar. The bathroom door clicks shut behind me as I head into a stall.
This is good. I can’t see what I’m putting on and I wouldn’t think about it. Nope. I wasn’t going to think about the ridiculous striped leggings I was pulling on, or the tiny overalls, the pointed felt coverings that fit over my flats or the hat that flopped sideways on my head. Not. Thinking. About. It.
“You are strong. It’s just a stupid costume. You are wearing it.” I say the words out loud, needing the affirmations. A costume is no big deal. “No big deal,” I repeat.
Squaring my shoulders, I slam out of the stall, only seeing a flash of color in the mirror before running out. I’m proud of myself. I can definitely do this.
I shake my head, chuckling over how basic I was being about this dislike of elves. Maybe I was over it now. High school was years ago, and no one had called me “elf nerd” as an adult. People grow up, right? I could leave the past behind me and maybe learn to appreciate cute elves. From a distance.
My mood takes a turn for the better with that newfound outlook. Feeling awesome, almost confident that this afternoon is going to be fun.
A booming laugh to the side of me has my head turning as I continue to walk to where Santa’s chair is set up. I come to an abrupt halt. A cold shiver works its way up my spine. My hands become instantly clammy. There’s no hope for my heart.
Because there is Luke, dressed in all his Santa glory, a white fluffy beard and everything…with his arm across the shoulders of Amelia Larkson.
Protecting Santa
Belinda
I tried. I really did. I tried to let it go, to be the bigger person, but there is something about Amelia Larkson that gets under my skin.
Don’t get me wrong, she is in no way a good person. She’s…decent enough, but a master manipulator. That’s what made her popular in high school. There’s just something about Amelia that makes the whole package a little bit rotten.
She didn’t date Luke or my brother—thank goodness—but that hasn’t stopped her from trying. Flirting her way into their good books.
“No way! Is that you, little elf nerd?”
And there it is.
I have to force down the bile in my throat as I turn fully toward them and grit my teeth. I’m pretty sure I’m grimacing instead of smiling. She waves me over, patting Luke’s chest. It’s then I see that his arm isn’t on her but reaching for something to the side. Amelia gives me a triumphant smile. I despise her.
The only saving grace to this whole situation is that she isn’t dressed up. Meaning, she isn’t a part of the event and won’t be hanging off Luke the whole afternoon. Can you imagine if she was Mrs. Claus? If she had been, I would have gladly introduced her to Merry and Joy—aka my fists.
“You look so adorable, little elf nerd. The elf look was made for you. Obviously.” She says this in a sweet voice, but I hear the underlying tone.
“Thanks, Amelia. It’s good to see you.” Not.
“I was just telling Lukey here that I had no idea he was coming home for the holidays and he should’ve called me. We have so much to catch up on.” She giggles at him, rubbing his chest again. Lukey? Oh, I bet he hates that.
“As I was saying, Amelia, it’s been a busy couple of days, and it doesn’t look like things are slowing down. But it was good to see you.” Having known Luke for most of my life, I can tell right away he’s lying. There’s an edge to his voice. He gently grabs her hand, giving her one of his stunning smiles before placing it nicely at her side.
Annoyance flashes on her face for a second before she shakes it off. Pushing her blond hair off one shoulder and onto the other, she shrugs at him. “Well, if your schedule opens up, let me know. I’m just a phone call away.” A rude sound escapes me. In a flash, her glare is on me. She flips her hair, again, and then struts off.
My shoulders hunch over in relief when she’s out of sight. “Yikes. That was rough.”
“She appeared out of nowhere. Almost scared the fruitcake right out of me.”
“Santa! What language.” A warm flip goes through my belly as he smiles down at me. Reaching over he pinches the edge of my costume, playing with the frilly material.
“You’re looking very festive.”
“Says Santa to his workshop elf.”
“Got me there,” he agrees, taking a step forward. “Though this outfit isn’t too far off from your usual Christmas wear.”
“Excuse me? The colors are close, but I would never, ever, wear stripes this way. A man must have created this elf costume because there is no way a woman would ever put such large stripes on leggings. My legs look like candy cane tree trunks!”
“You look beautiful.” He pauses. “You always look beautiful.” There’s a strange look in his eyes that I can’t read, like he wants to say something more but isn’t sure. Confused by the sudden change, I feel my smile falter. Before I’m able to get out a word, we’re interrupted by a woman with a headset and a clipboard.
“Is this the elf you wanted to work with?” The woman questions Luke, her tone hurried and stressed.