Page 35 of Make You Mine This Christmas
He shrugs. “Probably for the best.” The end of his sentence is interrupted by a yawn, and I see it’s almost midnight.
Like he reads my mind. “But we’ll have to save all the Santa sexiness for another time. Can’t have Santa falling asleep on the job because his elf rocked his world too hard.” He reaches to turn off the light on his side of the bed.
We both snuggle into the sheets and face each other. Austin smiles a sleepy smile and pushes on my shoulder so I roll over. He molds himself to my back, lacing our hands together in front of my chest. I hug his arm to me with both of mine. It’s as if I’m already dreaming, getting to be back in Austin’s arms.
“Night, Santa,” he murmurs into my hair. His breathing evens out almost immediately and I allow myself to lulled by the rhythm of it, his heat against my back.
“You’re the only present I ever need,” I whisper into the darkness, before I follow him into sugarplum dreams.
Chapter 17
Austin
The alarm sounds, breaking up one of the best nights of sleep I’ve had in a long time.Maybe a decade, I think, as Brody shifts behind me, our positions swapping at some point in the night.
“I don’t want to be Santa today,” Brody says into the nape of my neck, before sitting upright. “I didn’t mean it. I love being Santa.” I roll over to see his eyes open in shock and have to bite my lip not to laugh at him.
“You can love being Santa and wish for a little more time to snuggle in bed. I know I do.” I put my hand on his leg where it’s covered by the sheet. I don’t trust myself to touch his bare skin right now, especially while he’s already having a crisis of conscience.
He nods, a solemn look on his face, saying, “You’re right,” before scrubbing any remaining sleep from his eyes.
“You go shower,” I say, swinging my legs off the bed and wandering to the dresser for a pair of flannel pants. “I’ll make breakfast.” I turn around to see Brody’s eyes locked on where my ass, and now my junk, are disappearing into blue and black plaid. “Brody. Santa time. And we have to swing by Jitters to pick everything up before we change.”
“Right.” He visibly shakes himself. “You have more willpower than I do.”
I stalk over to the bed, putting one knee between where his legs are spread, bringing my face inches from his. “Or more of an appreciation for delayed gratification.” He leans forward chasing my mouth, but I pull back before he can make contact.
“I’m putting you on the naughty list,” he groans.
I walk away, laughing. “Oh baby, I’m already there.” With a wink over my shoulder, I head to the kitchen to make us something to eat, first breakfast if you will. I think we’ll need our energy today.
* * *
You’d think everyone working at the workshop today spent the night snuggling with their ex, the way we’re hustling and humming along. I worried a dip in energy would follow yesterday’s rough ending, but never underestimate the power of a good leader and free pastries and coffee. We book out more slots on these weekend days in December, but somehow, we’re keeping right on schedule.
Jimmy is getting information from almost everyone who comes through—he presented Brody with the idea to gather information from everyone, regardless of need. He pointed out that it makes things slightly less conspicuous for those who want to keep a low profile. It also allows those who may be able to help this year to receive information about donating to the future of Brody’s cause. I thought Brody might kiss him, saying how this would change the trajectory of who he could help and how. But nope, those lips are only for me.
I manage to keep finding reasons to touch Brody, innocently, of course. As Santa and his elf. Whether it’s bringing Santa a refill for his water, or being extra cautious in the handoff of his visitors, every brush of his hand sends sparks shooting through me. I don’t know what my plans for Brody tonight will contain, but I know they’re going to be big, long, and hard.
A throat clears next to me, and Brody shoots me a knowing look. Seems my eyes are getting a little too lusty. I need to lock it down for a little while longer. I groan internally with a glance at the clock on the wall. Okay, so several more hours longer.
As the afternoon wears on, I start to notice that more than the children visiting are appreciating Santa Brody. Single parents of all varieties are giving him heart eyes, and it’s getting my tinsel in a tangle. Have they been looking at him like this all along, and I’ve been too busy trying tostopmyself from looking to notice?
It doesn’t matter. Brody hasn’t touched a woman romantically since the tenth grade homecoming dance. These women are not being subtle in their appreciation for how they think Brody could drive their sleigh. It seems to me like even the dads are hitting on him.
One steps in front the elf taking photos. “Wait, sweetie, you wanted to hold your Rudolph stuffy in your picture with Santa.” He steps forward, handing the reindeer over. Leaning closer to Brody than I think entirely necessary, he hums. “Wow, Santa, that’s some nice cologne you have on there. What’s it called? I’d love to put it on my Christmas list.” It’s all too much, and suddenly I’m seeing red.
“Excuse me,” I say, stepping up, my voice more abominable snowman than human. I take a breath. “If you can step behind the rope, we need to keep the line moving.” I stand between him and the camera while the photographer finishes up, and Brody’s eyes stay on me, dancing with humor.
“Careful, Austin. Elves don’t growl,” he whispers when I step forward to help the little girl back to her overly flirtatious father.
“They might if they were the ones sleeping with Santa instead of Mrs. Claus,” I mutter back.
And that’s how I know I’ve been spending too many hours in the North Pole—all my metaphors are coming out Christmassy.
Around 3:30 p.m., there’s a commotion at the door. The college girls working at the door today start to look panicked, and Brody nods when I ask with my eyes if I should go help.
“I don’t care if I booked for tomorrow. I thought today was the ninth. We drove the whole way here, and you need to let me in.” The woman tries to bullrush the door and looks up in surprise when I don’t budge. “Excuse me, let me in.”
