Page 7 of Sexted By Santa
“I don’t want Santa to put me on his naughty list.”
“Never gonna happen,” I assured her.
“Do you think Santa will be back? I could ask him just to make sure.”
Professor Kringle lived next door, so it seemed likely. But I wouldn’t hold my breath on him agreeing to play Santa for my excitable daughter anytime soon.
“I don’t know, hon. Maybe.” I gave her one last squeeze and felt her shiver in my arms. “Why don’t you go on in. It’s cold out here. I’ll pick you up tonight.”
She nodded, vanishing back into the depths of Shirley’s house.
“Santa?” Shirley asked once Tori was out of earshot.
I smiled wryly. “Professor Kringle next door to us. He was wearing a Santa costume.”
“No!” She laughed. “Not possible. He doesn’t even put up Christmas lights.”
I shrugged. “Sure enough. But he wasn’t interested in hanging around and talking to Tori, so if he’s playing Santa, I’m sure it wasn’t his idea.”
She tsked. “Such a shame. He was never the friendliest neighbor, but he was always polite. He smiled more before that husband of his left.”
I couldn’t blame his husband for leaving if Christian Kringle was even remotely as chilly in the bedroom as he was in the other areas of his life—but I wasn’t going to say that to Shirley.
“Yeah, it’s a shame.”
I turned to leave. I had no more time for thoughts on Christian Kringle’s bad attitude or who might be the lucky recipient of his brand of holiday cheer. Work waited.
Work, it seemed, was always waiting.
3
CHRISTIAN
My palms were clammy on the steering wheel of my car as I made my way to the north end of town where Friendly Hands Home was located.Dear god, who came up with that name?Whoever it was should be fired and ashamed to call themselves a marketing professional. The ideas that surfaced…I shuddered.
But silly name or not, at least Friendly Hands would not be filled with children eager to crawl onto my lap and ask for presents. Assuming they still did that? Perhaps not. I hoped not. It was bad enough when my silly little mutt wanted to crawl on my lap. I could do without a rambunctious child creature, who I imagined as messy and noisy, possibly crying or—cringe—snot-nosed. It wasn’t that I didn’t like children; I was never around them. I had no idea what to expect or how to handle them.
Yet, even facing a room of older adults was daunting, and I was starting to sweat inside my Santa suit.Lovely.I flicked on the cool air despite driving over freshly fallen snow.
Maybe I should have waited to don the outfit until I’d arrived. It would have certainly saved me that awkward exchange with Jaxson Hicks. I’d been mortified when he’d approached me, having clearly noticed my attire. I could still see his frown as I’d refused to play Santa. I shook off the guilt trying to prod me into regret. Wearing the suit didn’t obligate me to dance for anyone who asked.
I cannot believe Aunt Henry roped me into this. She better give me so much cheesecake next time I see her.
After parking in the visitor’s lot at Friendly Hands, I checked my phone and saw that I was a little early. I had no intention of subjecting myself to a minute more of this torture than necessary, so I tapped out a text to Barry to pass the time.
If I die of humiliation, don’t mention the Santa suit in my obituary.
Barry was always quick to reply, and he didn’t disappoint, immediately sending back a string of laughing emojis.
Your support means so much,I added.
Hey, tell me where you are. I’dloveto see this. To support you of course.
I shuddered at the thought. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. If I had to do this, I’d take as few personal eyewitnesses as possible.
When hell freezes over and pigs fly, Istillwould say no.
Pics or it didn’t happen!Barry responded.
