Page 422 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
Maybe asking the most headstrong woman in the office to play the part of my cute little helper hadn’t been the wisest decision I could have made, but oh boy, would it be fun.
Outside, night began to fall. Soon it would be dark enough to light the tree. Shop fronts glittered with Christmas décor and children scrambled to get up close and personal with the windows, spying and pointing out toys they’d asked Santa to bring them for Christmas to their friends or siblings.
The limo driver rolled down the partition between the front seats and us. “We’ll be arriving shortly, Mr. Bamford. I’ll get you as close as possible and will give you the go-ahead when it’s safe to exit the car. Security is right on our bumper, so they will be there to escort you through the crowd.”
Tinsely shifted in her seat and the leather creaked. “Security?”
The partition slid closed once more.
“A necessary precaution,” I told her. “Women go crazy for me. Some men do, too.”
“Men and women who don’t know you personally, I assume?”
She was quick and ruthless, and her eyes glittered with the challenge of trying to one-up me.
“Everybody knows me, Tinsel. That’s kind of the whole point of me being on the front page of the new brand and Christmas marketing plan. Did you miss the memo?”
She polished off the last mouthful of her champagne, pulled the bottle out of the ice bucket, and refilled her glass. “If you’re taking notes, it’s worth mentioning that Santa Claus, unlike yourself, is humble, not an egotistical trust fund child.”
Oh snap.
I threw my head back and laughed.
Tinsely brooded as she worked on her second glass of champagne. The limo came to a halt and the pair of us waited while a Lincoln SUV pulled in behind us. Four members of the security detail got out of the vehicle and approached the back door of the limo as our driver rolled down the partition and gave us the go-ahead to step out. As soon as I opened the back door we were blasted with a gust of cold air.
Tinsely yelped and wrapped her arms around herself.
My suit, made of luxurious dark red velvet, stood up against the cold. I was lucky enough to be able to wear black leather gloves which kept me warm, on top of the long Santa hat that matched my suit. The cotton-ball end of the hat hung between my shoulder blades when I straightened and did up my suit jacket. I turned back to offer Tinsely my hand and help her out of the limo, but she pretended not to see it, stood up, shivered, and glared at her shoes as they jingled with merriment unmatched by their wearer.
I grinned down at her feet. “Those are by far my favorite part of all of this.”
“Naturally.”
The four security people, all burly men in black suits, motioned for us to follow. They brought us to the barricade on Fifth Avenue and let us through onto the Channel Gardens. The area bristled with people. Kids begged their mothers for hot chocolate from vendors. Husbands pulled their wives in close to brace against the cold. Teenagers wove through the crowd, eager for a better spot to see the tree.
Tinsely walked close behind me and used my body as a shield against the cold wind blasting down the channel. Up ahead, the giant Christmas tree loomed, unlit.
Once we were halfway down the gardens, people began recognizing me.
My name fell from lips in whispers. I flashed smiles at pretty young women in peacoats and scarves while Tinsely muttered a string of curses behind me.
“I guess nobody thought it would be important to give the elf a jacket,” she seethed. “Don’t worry about little old me. I’ll just freeze my ass off. Frostbite is cute, right? That won’t scare kids or customers away. Don’t worry Tinsely. It’s just above freezing temperatures. You’ll be fine in spandex and cotton.”
I glanced over my shoulder at her. “You gonna make it?”
Her teeth practically clattered together as she glared up at me. “I’ll survive.”
“Good, quit complaining. We’ll make sure we find an elfish coat for you. What do you think? A peacoat with jingle bells for buttons?”
“Spare me,” she groaned.
The crowd became denser the closer we got to the Plaza. Camera phones turned in our direction as people realized who I was. Tinsely began wishing those nearby a Merry Christmas, so I followed suit, and my voice boomed down the channel into the square. Heads turned and security tightened around me.
“Give me some breathing room, fellas,” I said under my breath. “These people are here to watch the lights on a Christmas tree turn on. I doubt there’s going to be any funny business.”
The security detail gave me a bit more space, and I was able to shake hands with those nearby and compliment women on their Christmas pins, secured expertly right on their chests, giving me a perfect excuse to look down at their—
“You’re such a perv,” Tinsely said in my ear, catching me in the act of admiring a Christmas wreath made of crystals resting between a woman’s cleavage.
