Page 38 of The Grumpiest Elf

Standing off to the side, I watch Lydia as she interacts with the kids, smiling at her antics to get a smile out of the clearly over-tired toddler who’s far more interested in running around causing havoc than sitting and smiling for a photo. She does a silly dance, plays peekaboo from behind the camera, and cycles through all the different stuffed animals and puppets. The penguin in a scarf and Santa hat is the hit, but of course the kid wants it, reaching for it, his face on the verge of dissolving into tears. Lydia walks toward him, bent at the waist, the penguin out in front of her. She teases the kid with it for a second before letting him have it, producing a huge smile, and the flashes go as soon as she’s out of the frame. The kid’s not looking at the camera, but it’ll be a cute photo regardless. She takes a few more as Dad and the kid look at the penguin, then each other, and finally, Dad points at the camera, the kid looks up, and she gets one last shot. He’s not smiling, but he still looks cute. At least the parents have a few choices, and I think they’re all good. Maybe a little more candid than the standard Santa photo fare, but if anything, I think that’ll make the memory more special.

I slide in next to Nora, wanting to see how they turned out. I can feel her surprise, though I don’t return her look. When I reach over to tap on the keyboard so I can cycle through the shots, she slaps my hand away. “Hey! You’re not working!” she hisses. “What are you even doing here? You usually avoid this place like the plague when you can.”

Shrugging, I point at the screen. “I wanna see the pics.”

“It’s not your kid,” she hisses. “These are for the customers. Go away.”

Ignoring her, I step back, but only because the parents have returned to the counter. Nora smiles and makes small talk as she turns the screen to face the parents, tapping through the photos so they can make the choice for their prints. I’ve angled myself to see the screen too, and while it’s not as good as if I were up close, I still have a clear enough view to confirm that the pictures are really good. Lydia’s a natural at this.

After she prints the photos for the parents and hands them over in the envelope with instructions on where to order more prints and download the digital files—sending them and their tot on their way with a cheerful, “Merry Christmas!“—she turns and glares at me. “Seriously, Dylan. What are you even doing here?”

When my eyes dart in Lydia’s direction, Nora’s face goes slack with surprise, and she gapes first at me, then at Lydia, then back at me. Tiptoeing closer, she lowers her voice, her shoulders hunched as though that gives us more privacy. “You and Lydia?” Her giddiness telegraphs perfectly clearly, even through her stage whisper. “Seriously? But I thought you guys could barely tolerate each other? When did this happen?”

Before I can answer, her face clears and she straightens. “Ooohhhh.” It’s more of a sigh than anything. “Last night.” Her lips curve in a knowing smile and she glances between Lydia, who’s helping a kid who looks to be seven or eight, so she doesn’t have to pull out the big guns to get a smile like she did with the last one, and me. Then Nora’s face turns solemn, and she holds up a finger in exactly the same pose as Sarah used just moments ago. “Don’t be a dick.”

That shocks a laugh out of me and I spread my hands wide. “Why would you say that?”

She just arches an eyebrow in response, as though that’s a sufficient answer to my question, and turns to help the mom who’s standing at the counter now, her professional elf demeanor firmly back in place.

While Nora helps the mom, I refocus on Lydia, who casts a glance and a shy smile in my direction before giving the kid a high five and a cheerful, “Merry Christmas!”

Once the kid and his mom are gone, I step into the camera area and begin straightening the stuffed animals and puppets while Lydia stows the equipment we don’t leave out overnight.

“You don’t have to do that,” she protests. “I can get it.”

I give her a big grin. “But if I help, you’ll finish faster, and then we can get to dinner sooner.”

Just then her stomach gives a loud rumble that has her freezing in shock before she bursts into laughter. “Okay, good point. Dinner sooner sounds good to me.”

CHAPTERTWENTY

Lydia

Heat flushesthrough my body when I catch sight of Dylan waiting for me.

He came.

I’m not sure if I’m surprised that he came at all … but no. That’s not it. I’m surprised that he’s here, inside the ChristmasFest before closing, waiting for me to finish. Sure, he’s talking to Nora, but his gaze keeps darting my way, like even though she’s speaking to him, he can’t drag his eyes away from me for long.

Honestly, I feel the same. It takes all my willpower to keep my focus on getting through the last kid. Fortunately I didn’t see him until after I was done with the toddler who didn’t want to cooperate for all the stuffed animals in the world, and it took every ounce of creativity I had left to get what photos I managed. Hopefully the parents found at least one they liked. Even more fortunately, the last kid is old enough that I just have to be a normal amount of friendly when calling his attention toward the camera to smile. He’s cheerful and enthusiastic about the LEGO set and remote control monster truck he asks Santa for, describing in detail—complete with sound effects—the show the truck is inspired by.

Normally I love kids like him, but I’m relieved when he’s done, because that means I get to spend time with Dylan.

Which is a crazy thought, if I stop and think about it for too long. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d never have believed someone who told me I’d be looking forward to a date with Dylan tonight, and yet, here we are.

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him when he steps forward and starts straightening the stuffed animals for me. “I can get it.”

He pauses, looking up at me with a wide smile on his face. He’s attractive when he’s broody and grumpy, but he’s gorgeous when he smiles like that, and having it directed at me is almost enough to take my breath away. “But if I help, you’ll finish faster, and then we can get to dinner sooner.”

I open my mouth to say something, though I’m not sure what exactly, but my stomach decides to speak for me. Loudly. Then I laugh. “Okay, good point. Dinner sooner sounds good to me.”

He hands me a paper packet, and my eyebrows draw together as I take it from him. Ignoring my reaction, he turns back to the stuffed animals with his smile still firmly in place. Opening the packet, I peek inside and discover a frosted sugar cookie decorated to look like an elf. “Oh my god, you’re my hero,” I gush, chomping on it immediately.

Dylan laughs at my response, which causes Nora to look over at us, eyebrows raised. “You wanna do my job too?” she asks.

Straightening, he plants his hands on his hips and glares at her, and somehow that makes him even more endearing. “Nope.” He shakes his head firmly. “You’ll stay and doyourpart. I’m helping Lydia withherpart. You don’t get to dump work on us just because I happen to be willing to helpher.”

Crossing her arms and cocking her hip, she looks like she’s about to argue, but Mrs. Claus—her mom, I remind myself—intervenes. “He’s right, Nora,” she says in that mom-voice that brooks no arguments. “Don’t think I don’t know you tend to duck out early at the end and show up late, leaving the bulk of the clean up and organizing to Dylan and Lydia. If anything, they should leave early and let you finish without them.”

---