Page 8 of Naughty Elf: Wink

His raccoon crawled off my lap and onto the bed, and without any kind of warning, he shifted back into his skin—his verynakedskin!

“Shit!” I blurted, bolting off the bed and averting my eyes. Regardless of my precautions, my body reacted, my velvet pants not stretching to accommodate my thickening girth.

Derek rolled over, blinking at me blearily. “You’re my elf,” he said, his voice all gravelly.

“Um… yes,” I answered, not sure where to look that wasn’t inappropriate right now.

He sat up and smiled. “You’re even cuter than your ornament.” Then he yawned, his eyes drooping, and fell back against the pillow, rolling away, muttering something like, “…I have the best dreams…” His new position left his ass on display, so I very carefully reached out and grabbed the blanket, draping it over him until he was fully covered.

When his soft snores started up, I blew out a relieved breath. “Sleep well, Derek,” I whispered, risking a brush of my fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow will be a fresh start. I’m here to take care of you now, and I promise, we’ll figure something out.”

Even though I knew he was fine and would be all night, I hated to leave him. Sure, he hadn’t freaked out when he’d seen me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to believe it would have the same result if he found me in his room in the morning when he wasn’t dreaming.

With a gut-wrenching ache, I trudged back to the living room. Chewy had one leg in the air, licking his unmentionables, but he paused long enough to stare at me as I stood in front of the Christmas tree. “Now all I have to do is figure out how to turn myself back into the ornament,” I said to him. “No biggie, right?”

6

Derek

Isat alone at the counter at The Pie Bar, tapping my fingers to the too-loud music. It was a rowdy place tonight, everyone laughing raucously, well-lubricated with alcohol. It was New Year’s Eve, as well as our staff Christmas party, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was always a bit of a homebody, but tonight especially, I felt drawn to return home. There was this gentle nudge, telling me to call it a night. I could have a hot bath or maybe curl up on the couch and read a book beside the Christmas tree.

Before I could make my excuses, though, Leander slid up alongside me and leaned heavily into me; I wondered if I was currently propping him up. “Whaas wrong?” he slurred with an overdone pout, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’re not having fun.”

“I’m having fun,” I lied. “I just kinda feel like something’s missing, you know? Like I forgot something.” I looked around the bar, and without conscious thought, searched the crowd for a head of blond hair, blue eyes… maybe a light beard… I frowned.

“Iknow what you’re missing,” Leander said, eyelids dropping to half-mast.

“You do?” I asked, hope blossoming.

He signaled to the bartender, who also happened to be our boss. He was working the bar tonight so all the staff could celebrate together. “Get this man a drink!” my friend cried, giving me a little shake.

“No, Leander, I’m fine,” I tried insisting. “You know what, I think I’m just going to head home. I’m a little tired.”

His smile dimmed, and he leaned in to speak quietly so no one could overhear. “I thought you said your blood work all came back fine.”

“It did. I promise I’m fine, but people can still get tired, you know. I’ve just had a long day.” In fact, things had been better lately. Not a hundred percent or anything, but I wasn’t falling asleep in my dinner anymore. Whatever it was seemed to be passing.

Mr. Jorgensen rested his folded arms on the counter and raised his voice to be heard over the music. “What’ll it be, Derek? First one’s on the house. It’s the least I can do for my best pastry man!”

The two men were looking at me with such hope and optimism that I couldn’t seem to say no. “Uh, how about a rum-raisin cocktail.”

Our boss nodded and began pouring far more than the allotted amount of spiced rum into a glass.

“And he’ll have an apple-pie shot too. My treat,” Leander said, pulling out his wallet, and no amount of arguing would dissuade him.

Mr. Jorgensen set the two drinks on the bar in front of me, one a deep brown color, the other a shot glass topped with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. “Cheers, buddy.” Leander picked up my shot glass, tapped it to his own drink, then passed it to me. “Bottom’s up!”

“Uh-huh, sure.” It was sweet and went down far too easily.

“Don’t forget to eat something,” our boss said, sliding a basket down the bar to us before he wandered off to serve someone else.

I sighed, staring down into the basket. Instead of beer nuts or pretzels, The Pie Bar offered baked goods. For the holiday season, we were currently serving mini gingerbread men. I held one up, admiring the detail. I’d made these ones myself. This entire batch was made up of cute little elves, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a beard. I’d been dreaming of elves lately—or rather, one elf in particular. It was the strangest thing, but looking at this cookie made the dream come back in HD.

“Gods, I’m so stupid. It was just a dream,” I mumbled before I shoved the entire cookie into my mouth, then washed it down with the rest of my cocktail. Was I really so lonely that I couldn’t tell the difference between dream and reality?

“That’s the spirit,” Leander said, slapping my back. “Now let’s get you another. You’ve got some catching up to do.”

I wasn’t sure why I stayed at the bar as late as I did, or why I had so much to drink. It wasn’t like me at all, but it was almost like I had something to prove to myself. Whatever it was, I was far too drunk to know whether or not I’d achieved it.

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