Page 30 of All I Wank for Christmas

“You sure as shit are, son,” Mr. Helmcamp says from the porch. “Take this piece of shit off my property.”

Both officers nod at Mr. Helmcamp and turn Jasper toward the police car with its spinning red and blue lights. Lyle pushes Jasper toward the car, and I wince as Jasper almost trips over a rock.

When they reach the cruiser, Lyle puts his hands on Jasper’s head and nudges him into the back of the police car. Jasper doesn’t look in my direction, probably not wanting to draw attention to the fact that I’m hiding behind a tree. Jasper’s as pale as a ghost, and his forehead wrinkles in concern for his sleigh, me, and the gifts that still need to be delivered. Maybe it’s a combination of concern for all three.

Coop, always more observant, looks around the area like he knows he’s being watched. He shines his flashlight beams around the area, squinting as he shines the light on the tree line. I straighten behind an oak tree, my arms straight at my side and thankful that the tree I picked to hide behind is wider than the others around it. There’s no way Coop would miss a flouncy skirt if I was behind a smaller tree. Bark and twigs stick in my back, but I hold my breath and don’t dare move.

Eventually, I stick my head around the tree trunk when I no longer see the flashlight beams across the foliage near me. Coop nods at Mr. Helmcamp, who still watches from the front porch in the old bathrobe, and gets in the car. I wait until Mr. Helmcamp goes back into the house and shuts the door before I take off at a sprint for the sleigh.

I’m going to have to drive it. Holy shit. I can’t drive a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer. Jasper makes it look so easy to hold the reins. Is it like riding a horse? I rode a horse once at Girl Scout camp in seventh grade and used the reins to turn and stop the old nag. Something tells me driving eight reindeer is a different vibe.

I practically throw myself into the sleigh with a huff and move my unruly hair back from my face. Pushing my hands against my mouth, I scream into my palm. The reindeer startle at the sound, and I throw my head back and look at the moon. “Fuck!” I yell, balling my fists. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck!” I swing my hands wildly like I’m punching the air.

I shouldn’t panic, but I’m totally panicking.

Think, Holly. Do I get into the navigation system, punch in the coordinates for Jasper’s home, and show up at his mother’s door to explain that I gave her son a hand job today, fucked her angelic boy in a sex dungeon, and he then lost his suit and got arrested? Or do I go to my own home, park the reindeer at the nearby petting zoo, get in my jammies, and go to sleep? The last option is tempting, but I know Jasper would never leave me to rot in the county jail. Sure, I’ve only known him for a few hours, but I know a few things about him. For example, his dick tastes nice, he’s a freak when you get him in a sex room, and he wouldn’t leave me in jail. These are important things in a man and not something I’m likely to find on Tinder.

I have to go get him.

I bite my lip and look at the reindeer. “OK, ladies, new plan.” Do they understand me? I should have asked Jasper if they’re smarter than the average forest deer. “Some shit went down, and your dude is currently having mug shots taken. I’m going to go get him. So, I’m going to pick up those reins, but I’ve never driven a sleigh before. You’ll have to give me some grace and help me out. That also applies to you, Prancer.”

I glare at the obstinate animal, and she turns around again before kicking at the sleigh, flicking snow in my face.

“Fine. Be that way you sullen bitch. Blitzen!” I yell, hoping the reindeer at the front are more forgiving of a rural Pennsylvania girl just trying to bust her man out of the pen. “Get us airborne!”

I take the reins, snap them like I saw Jasper do, and give a small smile. There’s a good chance this will be my only opportunity to ever do this. May as well do it right.

I call out each reindeer by name like the story that was read to me over and over as a child and hold on tight as the sleigh lifts into the air.

Chapter 11

Jasper

“Letmegetthisstraight. You’re Santa Claus’s son,” the man called Sheriff DeWitt says, typing my statement into his laptop.

I’m never going to live down being the only Santa to get caught, arrested, and fingerprinted. The elves will have a field day with this. My mother will be mortified. I’ll be the laughingstock of rural Canada. Not that there’s a lot of people up where I am, but the reindeer will be amused.

“Yes, sir. Last name is Nicholas.”

“Tell me the story again. Slower this time. I don’t type so fast.”

Sheriff DeWitt smiles at someone behind me like I’m the butt of an inside joke. I know how crazy my life sounds, but he could be more professional.

Then again, it’s hard to not knock all of his teeth out since I know he visits Holly. I glance around the police bullpen at the other man biting his lip to keep himself from laughing. All the men here visit Holly, and I want to beat every single one of them to death with the chair I’m sitting on.

Have any of them ever asked that, instead of a hand job, they can put Holly in touch with services that will help with Helena’s tuition? Point her to a food bank? Find her a prescription card that will help with her mother’s medicine? Offer to be her clients if she wanted to start her own accounting service instead of being her hand job clients?

No. They let her jerk them off, knowing full well she’s an accountant by trade. Like it’s funny. So much for protecting and serving. Sounds like Holly’s the only one serving anything in this county.

“I’m Santa’s son,” I start, taking a deep breath. I pinch my nose in frustration but keep going. As much as I hate them, they’re in charge of my fate right now. I have to look like I’m calm and nice. “I met…a girl. We were in a house I was delivering to, and we, well, I lost my pants.”

“How did you lose your pants?”

“I took them off so she could blow me while she used anal beads up my butt.”

A laugh sputters behind me, and I glance back and glare at Deacon Messner right as he covers his mouth like he’s fake coughing. The bastard was on the naughty list for the entire 80s and 90s. It’s all I can do not to put his kids on the naughty list this year, even though they’re not assholes like their father.

I turn back to Sheriff Dewitt. “The owners came home, and I had to leave without my magic suit.”

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