Page 30 of Unwrapped

“Pass. I need the hard stuff.”

“That’s a no. We can’t have a drunk Santa at Springdale’s first annual holiday festival.”

“It’s almost Christmas. Why are you doing this shit now anyway?”

“Because the mayor wouldn’t approve it.”

“How come?”

“Because he was fighting with his woman,” Rog bellows from behind me. He still has Devon caught up in his arms as he walks out of the supply room. “What the fuck?” I mutter taking in his black pants, shiny-black low-heeled boots and crisp white shirt. “Seriously?”

“Yup. I’m now the official mayor of Springdale.”

I shake my head and close my eyes. “This is one fucked-up holiday season so far. I’m in an alternate reality, right? My plane went down and I’m trapped in purgatory or some shit, right?”

“Here.” Rog reaches inside the pocket of his blazer and hands me a flask. “You look like you need this, brotha.”

“Thank fuck.”

“No.” The she-devil, Luce, is fast and swipes it from Rog’s outstretched hands. “Too many of these kids smell liquor on the breaths of their parents. Not Santa’s, too.”

She’s right.

Sighing, I accept defeat and sit down letting the two women fuss over my transformation into the jolly fat man.

6

Shiloh

WITH BLURRY EYES, I shuffle down the hall following the scent of coffee and sugar. I’m hungover. Tired AF and still pissed at my dickhead stranger for ruining the best damn sex dream I’ve ever had.

“Well…hello darlin’.”

Blinking rapidly. I peer up at the giant standing in the inn’s kitchen. “Holy shit! Either I’m still dreaming, or my Christmas wish actually came true.”

He shoots a cocky grin and pours coffee into a mug. I flush to the roots of my hair as he inspects me over the rim of the mug in his hand. He’s tall. Built. Muscles bulging under the skintight black Henley. He’s wearing worn in jeans and big biker boots.

“See something you like, darlin’?” He drawls.

“I do,” I sigh, but I’m about ten years too old for you.

“My name’s Mac and I likecougars.”

“Excuse me?” My spine straightens. My back bristles. I mean damn I know I must look like shit this morning, but no one’s ever put me in the cougar category.

“Retract your claws, cupcake.” He grins and picks up a large garment bag and unzips it a few inches. Inside is my faux-fur coat looking brand new.

“How did you get that?”

He winks. “You’re welcome.”

I reach for the pot of coffee and pour it almost to the brim leaving just enough room for cream and sugar while wracking my brain. I guess he must’ve taken my coat when he wrapped me in his. But then how does he know this guy? They couldn’t be more different. My dickhead was all Armani and smooth skin and this guy screams badass tattoo dude.

“Tell Sally I’ll see her at the Christmas festival.”

“I thought it was a tree lighting.”

“It was…it kinda snowballed into an all-day event. Don’t be late, you don’t want to miss Santa,” he winks stuffing more than one cookie into his mouth as he saunters out.

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