Page 33 of Unwrapped

“So am I,” my lips curve.

“Are you done shopping?”

“For now. I’ll come back after the tree lighting. We’d better get those cookies over to the Santa meet and greet.”

We walk back to Sally’s car and she piles my arms high with box after box.

Who knew cookies weighed a ton?”

“No need to hit the workout room later, eh?”

“I only go in there to dust.”

Laughing, we pass children asking for them. It’s hard to walk through them. I try to hold my arms steady, my knees wobble and I try not to stumble, losing the boxes to the slushy street.

“Let me help you with that,” a deep voice sends chills down my spine. The good kind.

“Well, hello.” My eyes look up meeting a pair of deep mocha ones. It’s him. The smoldering VP. Despite the jerk I met on my way here, this trip is turning out better than expected.

8

DARE

“I’m going to kill you for this,” I hiss to Rog under my breath as he smiles like an ass for the photographer from the town paper. They mayor and Santa will make the front page.

“No, you won’t. You owe me.”

“Since when?”

“Since that Christmas morning I found you half-frozen in the snow without a decent coat on.”

“Fuck me.”

“Santa doesn’t curse.”

“A bad Santa does.”

“Don’t be a bad Santa. You remember what it’s like to be them?” Rog points to the line of kids waiting to sit on my lap and spill all their secrets. It’s kind of creepy when you really think about it. A lump forms in my throat because shit I do remember. Lately all I do is remember. Dredging up the past is pointless. The ghosts in mine won’t teach me any lessons I don’t already know.

“Who’s that?” Federico, the new VP asks as he whips of his shades to get a better look.

It’s her.

Fur baby, looking all fine in the full-length coat and stiletto fucking heeled snakeskin boots. Her hair the color of milk chocolate falls down her back.

I look away, irritated I’m looking. Noticing.Wanting? Fuck no. I don’t want a piece of that, but the bulge beneath my Santa suit is saying something else.

I look away, count to a million by hundreds and think of anything but sex.

“Let me help you with that.” Federico practically runs, taking the boxes from her arms. Beneath my fake white bear my eyebrows furrow. He’s panting like a bitch in heat as she smiles up at him looking just as starstruck.

“It’s almost show time. Don’t fuck this up,” Roger warns as he walks into the crowd grabs a mic and welcomes everyone to Christmas in Springdale.

I count the heads of at least fifty kids lined up and munching on cookies. “How in the heck did I end up here?” I mutter to no one. “I went from the head of a boardroom table to sitting in the back of a goddamn sleigh.”

“Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?” Devon quirks an eyebrow, stuffing a cookie in my mouth. “You need sweetening up.”

“You owe me big time.”

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