Father Christmas (Kringle & Co #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

M indy Evergreen draped the last string of twinkling lights across her bookshelf. Stepping back to admire the way they cast a warm glow, she basked in the festive scene of her living room. Her apartment, small but filled with character, had become a sanctuary of Yuletide joy.

Each ornament on the tree told its own whimsical story. The delicate glass baubles reflected the light like tiny beacons. Mindy's bright green eyes sparkled in their radiance as she placed an antique star atop the fir tree.

She was just about to plug in the tree lights when a knock at the door sent a ripple through the tranquility of her personal winter wonderland. A frown tugged at her rosy cheeks. A sigh escaped her lips before she could catch it. It could only be one person.

With one last longing look at her nearly finished decorations, Mindy smoothed down her red sweater and approached the door. She opened it to find her ex-boyfriend, his messy brown hair tousled by the winter wind.

"Elvin," Mindy said, her voice entirely free from the warmth of past affections. She took a deep breath, her chestnut curls bouncing slightly as she prepared herself for whatever charm offensive he might launch.

"Hey, Mindy," Elvin replied with the casualness of someone unaware that they weren't exactly on Santa's nice list this year. "I thought I'd drop by. You know, for old times' sake."

"Because nothing says holiday cheer like revisiting a breakup." Mindy gripped the door frame a little tighter, ready to close it if necessary.

"Can we talk?" Elvin asked, the twinkle in his eye dimming with a seriousness that he rarely displayed.

"I'm a little busy, Elvin so?—"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he began, marching across the welcome mat and insinuating himself inside her apartment. "I'm ready to grow up, you know? Truly. I've even started sorting my recycling."

Mindy cocked an eyebrow, taking in the sight of him with an air of skepticism. His promises were as flimsy as the paper snowflakes she had taped to her windowpanes. "Recycling, huh?" she said dryly, folding her arms across her chest. "Well, color me green with eco-friendly excitement. Tell me, Elvin, have you learned how to pay a bill without my help, or should I hold off on the parade?"

"Come on, Mindy. I'm serious here." Elvin's smile faltered as he stepped closer. "We were good together. I can be better. Give me a chance."

"Stop." Mindy cut him off, stepping back to prevent his fingers from grazing hers. "I need more than just words and half-hearted gestures. I want a partner, not a project."

Her voice carried a strength that reverberated through the tinsel-trimmed room behind her. She felt the fire of her own convictions warming her words, melting away the frost of doubt that had clung to her since their split.

"I deserve someone who isn't going to see adulthood as an optional quest," she continued, her green eyes blazing like the star atop her Christmas tree. "I want passion and maturity."

It seemed like such a tall order these days. The men she'd been dating since college were full of passion. In words, if not deeds. Or the bedroom. Most of them expected her to get on top, do all the work, and then roll over for a long nap. Then, when they woke, they were shocked that she hadn't made them breakfast. Well, the price of breakfast was an orgasm. Suffice it to say, Mindy hadn't had to crack an egg for a guy in a very, very long time.

Elvin's shoulders slumped. The crestfallen look on his face was meant to tug at her heartstrings. She knew this song and dance. It was one they had performed too many times before.

"Elvin, our breakup wasn't just some trivial fight to get over. It was necessary. For me. For my happiness. You need to understand that."

The space between them felt cavernous. Through her window pane, she heard the echoes of carolers. They sang about love and joy, all of which seemed so distant in that hollow moment.

Mindy crossed back to her closed door and opened it. "Take care, Elvin."

He looked like he was going to argue. But it was pointless when he'd do it on the other side of the door. Elvin's words were devoured by the closing door, severing the last visible thread between them.

A blend of sadness and relief swirled within her like an unexpected winter storm, yet as the latch clicked into place, she sensed the unmistakable lightness of freedom. The weight that had been pressing on her shoulders, heavy with the residue of their relationship's tumultuous past, now lifted and dispersed like the flurry of snowflakes outside her window.

"Great," she muttered to herself with a wry smile. "First Noel as a solo act. No family, no plus-one to the office holiday bash."

Not that she had an office to go to. At least not yet. The perfect job for someone like her had opened, and Mindy was determined to get the post.

This was no time for self-pity. The job interview looming ahead could be the sprig of mistletoe under which she'd find professional passion, if not romantic.