Page 79 of Unwrapped

A startled gasp from behind me has me spinning on my heels. “Shiloh!” I growl, but she’s fled. The door to the vet’s office slams shut as she dashes away.

“Fuck!”

“Dare?”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. It just comes out. “A woman. A beautiful, maddening, funny, sensitive woman…”

“Am I getting a new mom, too?”

“Would you like one?”

“Hells, yeah. It’s the number one thing on my Christmas list.”

“Am I that bad?”

“I don’t know yet. But it would be cool to have a mom someday… what’s this woman like?”

I pause, looking up at the sky from my side of the window. “Perfect.”

“Oh boy. What did you do to mess this up? You better not mess up my chance of having this perfect woman as my Mommy.”

I grin. “You’ve already decided? You don’t even know her name?”

“Well, I have low standards. I’ve never had one before. So…”

My throat thickens. “She’d be a perfect mom someday.”

“How will we get her to fall in love with us then?”

“I like the way you think, Freddie.”

“Good. Now Spill. Everything. Don’t leave anything out. Except the kissing stuff because that’s gross.”

“Okay, little sprite…we met at the airport last week. She hated me on sight…. and then we rescued the kittens…” I finally finishing somehow speaking past the lump in my throat.

“She needs to know you’re Santa. But don’t make her mad when she finds out. You’re her perfect soulmate, Dare. She knows it. She’s looking for you… you need to tell her on Christmas.”

“What if I show her? Knock on her door dressed up?”

“I don’t know. Maybe do something more romantic?”

“In a Santa outfit?”

“Every girl still dreams of Santa. I did and I found you. She probably still believes.”

I shut my eyes feeling the burn; the hope of love flaring to life. Two females have snagged my heart, each in different ways.

“I wish I could spend Christmas with you, Freddie. I swear I’d make up for all your shitty ones, but my paperwork just entered the system and a lot of people already took off for the holidays.”

“I know. I’ll be okay. There’s always next year.”

“We’ll celebrate after. I can’t send you more things that will make you a target. Stay strong. You won’t be there much longer.”

“Okay. Call me tomorrow? Maybe ask my future mom out on a date?”

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