Page 73 of Jam and Jingle Bells
I finally forced my hand to turn the knob and leave the bathroom before Heather showed up and noticed I wasn’t myself. I took a step and walked directly into a brick wall, or in this case, a hard chest. Arms came around me and held me to him.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promised in my ear.
“Not so sure,” I admitted, my voice hoarse. I stepped out of his arms and my eyes shifted to the window where the sun was streaming in. “Not here.”
Once we were back in the apartment, he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his hand on my shoulder and his voice reticent and sad. “You were absolutely right about everything you said.”
I shrugged and ran a hand over my face. “It’s almost ten, Ellis. We don’t have time to worry about this now. There are already little ones lining up to see Santa.”
He turned me to face him and held my shoulders, and my gaze. “Then they can wait a few minutes longer. We have to talk about this.”
“Not right now. I don’t have any happy as it is, okay? There’s a gang out there trying to hurt us and my boyfriend, or at least the guy who said he wanted to be my boyfriend, is lying to me. I have to play a jolly elf in less than an hour and I just spent thirty minutes crying! I’m not exactly in the mood to talk!”
He held up his hands and then lowered them to my shoulders to rub my arms. “Okay, relax, please. I know Gabe’s visit just added more to an already crappy morning, but I am going to protect you, the way a boyfriend protects a girlfriend,” he said pointedly. “We can fight and be mad at each other, but I would still give up my life for you if the time came to make that choice. Do you understand me?” he asked, his fingers gripping my arms painfully tight.
I nodded slowly and his hand cupped my cheek tenderly. “For the record, I love kissing you and it gets my heart pounding in a very good way. Your lips are like a drug and I spend half the day wanting nothing more than to have my tongue laying alongside yours. Caffeine, on the other hand, gets my heart pounding in a very bad way. It doesn’t massage my heart the way your kisses do. It aggravates it like a feather tickling the bottom of your foot over and over. What does your foot do when that happens?”
“My toes curl,” I answered, barely breathing.
His eyes melted before mine. “That’s right, and when my heart curls like that, we have a problem. Does that make sense?”
“Caffeine makes your heart curl, but my kisses make your toes curl?”
He growled right before he attacked my lips, his tongue pushing my lips open to lay alongside mine in the way he described. I grasped his face, holding his lips to mine, his soft, needy moans making me forget I was mad at him. His hands gripped my ribcage while his thumbs lazily traced the edges of my breast. I ripped my lips from his and rested my forehead on his chest.
“We have to stop. I’m mad at you and Santa has a gig.”
He was breathing heavily and I noticed a prominent bulge pressed up against my leg. “Santa needs a moment before he goes anywhere.”
It was hard not to smile. Even though I was mad at him he was awfully cute.
He tipped my chin up with his finger to gaze into my eyes. His were sad, but determined, when he spoke. “Promise me that tonight you’ll let me make this right, and in the meantime, you’ll enjoy being Santa’s special elf today.”
“As much as I want to hold onto my anger toward you, I can’t. I’m not even angry. I’m hurt, but I’ll put it aside for today and give the kids the best damn Santa experience they’ve ever had.”
Chapter Twenty
There was one kid left in line and then the day was over. Thank Santa! My feet were sore from all the standing and my arms were sore from all the lifting. It was fun to watch Ellis work his magic with the kids up close and personal, though. Unfortunately, the last kid in line didn’t resemble a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl from the night before. I could see Santa’s eyes were disappointed, but considering her parents just got married last night, they probably weren’t in the mood to visit Santa. I know I’d rather be lounging in bed relaxing. Then again, can you do that with an eight-year-old demanding food and activities? Probably not.
There was a tug on my tunic and I glanced down at the little boy, probably around Holly’s age, who was staring up at my face. “When is it my turn?”
I patted his shoulder. “As soon as the little girl on Santa’s lap finishes,” I promised. “Won’t be long. I’ve already taken her picture.”
We both turned our heads to watch Santa with the girl since it was my job to lift her down when she was done. Santa was handing her a candy cane when the little boy spoke again.
“My daddy says elves can’t be girls and they can’t be black.”
My head swiveled back to the boy at my side. “I guess your daddy must be wrong then since I’m both,” I said, smiling widely.
“He said you’re a fake elf.”
Well, duh.
“What’s your name?” I asked the boy who waited patiently on the line.
“Cameron.”
“Okay, Cameron, let me tell you a secret about Santa’s elves. They’re everywhere,” I said motioning around me. “He has them working in all different parts of the world to watch over the little kids he’s making toys for. How else do you think he knows who has been naughty or nice?”
