Page 63 of Not Your Average Vixen
A Santa in a red turtleneck nodded. “Oh, we know. He’s definitely on the naughty list.”
“I am?” he blurted, taken aback.
Okay, there was no such thing as an omnipresent, all-knowing Santa. He knew this. But confronted by a gaggle of them left him off balance. He ran his hands through his hair, then blew out an exasperated breath when a cool rush of air washed over him, and the door to Kringle Acres slammed shut.
He glanced around.
Where was his stoner maid of honor?
A short Santa chuckled. “You better go find her, young fella.”
The turtleneck Santa nodded. “Yep, that young lady is as high as a kite, and there’s no telling the trouble she could get into in Kringle.”
“How do you know?” he exclaimed.
“We’re Santas. We know things,” the short Santa replied and tapped his head.
“And her pupils are the size of papayas,” the plaid shirt Santa added.
“Shit, I mean shoot! You’re right! I need to find her,” he answered, snapping out of the Santa haze.
He busted out the door and looked up and down the street. Thank Christ, she hadn’t gone far. He jogged half a block and found her staring into a darkened storefront.
“There’s nothing sadder than an empty bakery,” she said with her nose pressed to the glass.
“Yeah, it’s too bad,” he answered, trying to get his bearings, then nearly fell onto his ass when he saw the awning for the Cupid Bakery.
Sweet Christmas cupcakes!
Undoubtedly, this was one of the Cupid Bakeries he was in the process of liquidating.
He crossed his arms. “We should get going. The car’s back the other way.”
But Bridget wasn’t listening. She gasped and pointed down the street.
“No, Soren, we can’t. I just saw one,” she exclaimed, breaking into a run.
He trailed behind her. Weren’t stoners supposed to be chill? Whatever Tanner put in those gummy bears had his vixen raring to go.
“What did you see?” he called as they came upon the town square.
Surrounded by evergreens and twinkling lights, Bridget skidded to a halt.
“Soren, just look! It’s a gathering of Christmas fairies.”
It was easy to mistake what they’d happened upon as a gathering of fairies. Children stood together holding sparklers, and in the darkness, the glittering light created a shimmering, ethereal halo, like something out of a fanciful fairy tale.
Bridget leaned against him. “My dad used to tell us that the snow fairies traveled around as tiny balls of light. It’s too bad we left the egg behind. He would have loved to have seen this.”
“Is that right?” he asked, using all his strength not to wrap his arm around her.
“It’s magical,” she said, staring up at him.
He stared at this beautiful enigma of a woman. “It is.”
She stroked his cheek, and he closed his eyes. Could this be a dream? Or perhaps his sandwich was laced with something, and he was on a psychedelic trip right alongside her. Whatever it was, he was losing control.
“What’s that smell?” she asked, breaking their connection.
