Page 49 of What Happens This Christmas
“I’ll join you,” he said, jarring me from my random thoughts.
I let the words wash over my body, my skin prickling. “That’ll be fine.”
Chapter 22
Mrs. Claus on stilts
NICK
It felt like dunking my body into a cold plunge.
Naked.
Stark fucking naked.
Shriveled up dick, frozen ass cheeks, and all.
Joining Candy on a walk to Fifth Avenue was a self-inflicted punishment. At the time, I hadn’t acknowledged it that way, but now it was the only way I could see it.
Was I a masochist? I had never considered myself one before. Apparently, I had been wrong, though, because I didn’t want to be on a walk with Candy. Not like this, at least.
She was silent. I was silent. My mind was still buzzing, thinking about that damn kiss.
“Ho-ho-ho!” A man’s booming voice filled my ears right before—
“Watch where you’re walking,” I practically shouted, raising my voice at the moron who bumped into me from behind. If he wasn’t on his way to an eye exam, he should have been canceling his plans for the day and trekking his ass there.
Candy stopped in her tracks as well, and I turned around to get a good look at the jackass who had no regard for personal space.
“Sorry, man,” he responded, and my eyes trailed all the way up, up, up. Beyond the stilts that seemed to go on forever and the Santa suit and the long white beard. Finally, I landed on his face,his beady eyes covered by wired glasses. Fake, most likely. “I was practicing my ho.” That explained absolutely nothing, just as the costume didn’t. It wasn’t Halloween, and we weren’t even—
Candy’s hand came down on my shoulder, and she cleared her throat delicately. “We understand,” she told the man before whispering to me. “It must be the annual Santa convention today.”
“Sure is,” the man exclaimed like he was about to meet his idol or something.Candy and her crap whispering skills.
I felt bad for anyone who gave two shits about this day enough to sound like it was the greatest one on the planet. As far as I was concerned, this convention had turned into nothing more than a pain in my rear end over the years. That was why I’d made a point to forget about the day completely, but remember the date only for the sheer fact to avoid exiting the penthouse. Mostly out of fear I might bump into or have to communicate with the drunken idiots that participated.
Listen, in theory, it sounded like a great way for people to gather and give to a good cause while also letting loose and kicking back. That was in theory, though. In all actuality, it was a bar hop that landed a lot of people drunk off their asses, screaming profanities at strangers, pissing in empty cups, and getting handsy. Way too fucking handsy.
Needless to say, I hated this day. Couldn’t wait until it was over, and now, more than before, I was regretful I’d chosen to leave the house for a walk. Then again, I supposed it was a good thing I’d decided to join Candy. It wasn’t safe for her to be out here all alone with drunk strangers.
“Bro!” some man yelled, running up to us like there was a fire up his ass. He was wearing a onesie, and what the hell was he doing dressed like a gingerbread cookie? It ruined the cookie for me completely. What self-respecting man wore a onesie andranin it to boot?
I leaned over and tried to cover Candy’s eyes, but she only tsk tsked and swatted my hand away. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said, shocking me to my very core and causing my blood pressure to spike. I didn’t want her subjected to another man’s dick on full display, only the thinnest fabric covering him, as he ran toward hisbro.
“My girlfriend’s on her way. I told her I’d get the wristbands for both of us,” he said, ignoring us. But not for long…unfortunately. “Hey, are you two joining in on the ho ho times?” the gingerbread man asked, his eyes shooting to me first, then Candy.
I didn’t know whatho ho timeswere and was positive I didn’t want to know. Although, if he meant having anything to do with this dress-up-like-Santa-or-some-other-ungodly-thing day, then I couldn’t think of anything worse. I pulled on the back of my neck. “No.”
Candy hooked her arm with mine, staying close to my side.Good thinking.“We’re not exactly dressed for the occasion.”
The Santa stilt man let out a hearty laugh. A little too jolly, if you asked me, but fine, to each their own. He held his stomach full of cotton and promptly pulled something out of his pocket. “That’s why I come prepared. For people like you,” he replied, pointing at me before practically tossing a long, white beard my way.
Yeah, I wouldn’t be taking that.
The gingerbread man caught it midair before taking it upon himself and snapping the beard on me, the shit digging into my skull. “There you go, my man.” I wasn’t his man. “Sorry we don’t have anything for you, pretty lady.”
Candy cleared her throat. “That’s quite all right. I think my husband looks festive enough for the both of us.” Her words were silencing a laugh. Did she find this…funny?
