Little Miss Santa Claws

7. Nicole

CHAPTER 7

Nicole

“ M issy!”

I stumble my way down the staircase, which is made more difficult by the bag and coat piled in my arms. Those couples in the hallway are practically half-naked now. I swear, there’s more slobber on their skin than clothes.

Growling in frustration, I try to track Missy as she merges with the crowd on the main floor, but by the time I hit the bottom of the staircase, I’ve lost her. I stagger blindly in the direction she disappeared. The crowd pushes me back and forth, and I’m given glare after scathing glare as I shove my way through the living room. Thank fuck I’m tall enough to see over most of the students, or I’d be totally disoriented.

I go to shout her name again, but the sound catches in my throat when I see her stepping up onto the coffee table, a vodka bottle raised in one hand.

“LET’S PARTY, GRINCHES!” she yells, smiling as she throws her head back and chugs straight from the bottle. The party surges, cheering and drinking around us, invigorated by her energy. It’s impossible not to feel it.

Her magnetism.

Even I’m stunned by it for a moment, by how beautiful she looks, how her hair shimmers like tinsel under the energy-saving bulbs. She pushed the sleeves of her tight red shirt up, and now I can see the skin beneath them. Her forearms are covered in colorful tattoos: inked strings of cranberries and popcorn, shining stars and Christmas lights, and an incredibly intricate snow leopard. Just based on what I can see, I’m guessing the tattoos continue all the way up her arms. It makes me wonder exactly how much of her is decorated like that.

Who the hell is this chick?

Well, other than Santa Claus , obviously…and a goddamn work of art.

I walk in a daze up to the coffee table and swallow my shock. Whoever she is, she can’t be doing this. What about the sleigh sitting outside? What about Christmas? “Missy,” I hiss.

“I can’t hear youuuuu ,” she sings, closing her eyes as she sways to the techno music. Then, she spins to the DJ in the corner and shouts, “Turn it up!”

The guy smiles and bobs his head as he obliges her request.

The whole room seems to shudder as the beat intensifies. I’m knocked into from every direction. I grip the bag a little tighter, trying my hardest not to let it be jostled right out of my hands. There’s not enough room to breathe anymore. Everyone is trying to get closer to Missy, and I don’t do well with crowds. Some people like this kind of thing. For me, it’s suffocating. Every brush of their bodies burns through my clothes and sear my skin. The more movement, the more it burns.

I don’t want to leave Missy here like this, though, so I stubbornly remain in the same spot, letting the crowd continue to bruise my arms.

I call her name again, but she doesn’t hear me. Missy is tugging an older female student up onto the coffee table beside her, dancing against her back as she tilts the mouth of the vodka bottle between her new friend’s lips. Those bright blue eyes turn to slivers as Missy gazes admiringly at the girl.

My stomach drops, and I suddenly want to rip the crawling skin from my bones.

After a moment, I realize it’s anger burning through my veins, hot and sticky and impossible to ignore. I want to scream. I want to rage. I want to punt that pretty college student right off these premises, so hard that she would feel the imprint of my foot on her ass for days.

I am the one here with Santa.

I am the one helping her save Christmas.

If anyone deserves to dance with that beautiful creature, it’s me .

But I have no right to feel possessive over Missy, do I? I shouldn’t feel as if she owes me something, because she doesn’t.

Gritting my teeth, I retreat to the front of the house. There are fewer people here, seeing as the living room is the place to be. The couples on the staircase are gone. As my skin settles and the heat in my blood fades, I look over my shoulder, watching Missy bounce on the balls of her feet and pour liquor into some brunette’s mouth.

The air steals out of my chest again.

Why am I bothering with any of this? She doesn’t need me. No one needs me. It’s not my responsibility to save Christmas, and it’s certainly not my job to watch over Santa in some horny frat house when she refuses to leave.

Let her party. Let her forget about Christmas.

Before I can lose my nerve, I kick the front door open and step into the tepid night air. I stalk over to the sleigh, the team of reindeer re-hitched in front of it.

The yard has mostly cleared out, but there’s one guy passed out cold in the center, his even breathing the only thing assuring me he’s alive. Good List Gregory is out here too, petting the reindeer at the front of the herd. I can’t see the animal’s nameplate around GLG’s body, but I’m assuming that one is Rudolf—its nose is shining a bizarre, undulating red.

Go figure. I wonder how many other absurd Christmas tales are true. Not that I actually want to know; I’ve had more than enough education for one night.

“Hey,” GLG greets me as I approach the sleigh. “Where’s Santa?”

“Tongue deep in some college chick’s mouth by now, probably,” I mumble under my breath. The words are reactionary, charged by the emotions I felt as I watched Missy comfort that girl in the bathroom and as she danced with that student on the coffee table.

I’m overcome by very strange, very unwarranted pangs of jealousy.

Which is ridiculous.

I don’t even know if she likes girls like that.

The way she smiled at me after I kissed her boots earlier tonight has filled my head with all kinds of wild ideas. Call me crazy, but getting on my knees for her made me feel special. Now, I just feel dumb. I don’t like the thought of her making anyone else do that. Kiss her, that is, even if it’s just her boots.

I drove her here, nearly crashing my mom’s “baby” twice , and she just turned around and decided to party the rest of the night. She completely brushed me off.

Considering the way we left things, I doubt I’m getting those ornaments she promised me either. So I just wasted hours of sleep and half a tank of gas for nothing.

Well…fuck her too.

GLG either didn’t hear my bitter comeback, or he’s as shocked by my response as I am. He blinks at me, his brows furrowing. “What?”

I spin around to face him and bite out, “Santa’s still inside. If you want to sit on her lap and tell her your secrets, or take body shots off her or something, you should probably hurry up. There’s already a line.”

It takes him a few beats to gather his wits enough to stumble back across the yard.

As the front door shuts behind him, I throw the load in my arms onto the velvet seat of the sleigh. I’m not going to carry around her crap for the rest of the night, illustrious Santa figure or not. I’m not doing this stranger any more favors when I can’t even help myself.

I stomp over to the convertible and dig the keys out of my jacket.

But as I unlock the car, I do pause, because there’s frost on the window. Perfect little crystalline formations trail from the car handle to the top of the glass.

There is absolutely no explanation for the frost. It’s not cold outside. This is Florida , for fuck’s sake. I press my fingertips to the glass, and a chill bites at my skin, sinking straight to the bone. I pull my hand away and scan the driveway. I stand there for a long moment, heart beating hard against my ribs. Something is off here beyond the ice; I just can’t tell what it is yet. Turning slowly, I look over the property.

My gaze catches on a stream of white against the grass.

It’s ice . More frost, like what’s covering the car window, and it leads straight to the sleigh nestled against a line of flowering bushes on the other side of the yard. Frost kisses several of the low-hanging branches.

As I scrutinize the area around the sleigh, I catch a flicker of movement. I lean forward, bracing my forearms on the top of the convertible as I squint to see the activity a little better.

The movement I saw was a head of hair shifting away from the bushes. A woman with long, black hair and a navy blue cloak wrapped around her shoulders steps forward. She’s thin and tall, with delicate facial features. She approaches the sleigh and kneels beside it, ducking out of sight for a few seconds. When she straightens, her eyes are trained on the items I threw onto the seat, and the smirk on her face is downright wolfish .

Is she going to steal them?

I skirt around the car as quickly as I can, working myself up into a brisk jog as the woman hauls herself into the sleigh. “ Hey! Get out of there!”

The woman’s head snaps up, and when her gaze lands on me, she rolls her eyes. “Oh, I thought we were free of you. What do you want?” She steps up to the edge of the sleigh, glaring down the length of her nose at me.

I amble to a stop a few feet away, breathing hard. “What do I want? What do you want? Why are you climbing into this sleigh?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

My eyes narrow. “Seeing that Santa asked me to keep her bag of presents safe, I think it is my business.”

The woman scoffs. “It looked to me like you were about to abandon them altogether. That’s not keeping them safe, is it? Which is just as well. You’re not suited for such a responsibility. You’re only human—a skeptic , as a matter of fact. Go on home. I can take care of things from here.”

My neck prickles with heat. “And who are you ?”

She smiles then and jumps down from the sleigh. As her feet slam into the ground, hundreds of little frost particles swirl in the air around her. “I’m Jack Frost. Missy is an old friend of mine.”

Jack Frost …

That’s where all the ice came from. My god, how many mythological figures am I going to meet tonight? My head spins.

I see as she draws closer that Jack’s hair isn’t black. It’s a deep, midnight blue. It’s the color I imagine frozen limbs turn just before they fall off. And her eyes are the palest blue I’ve ever seen. She’s stunningly beautiful, in a cold, nightmarish way.

“A friend?” I echo.

“Yes! Which makes me the perfect person to step in for her. I know the delivery route, the rules, and I even have magic that will help make up for all the time she wasted with you . You weren’t helping her, you know? You’re hindering her. She should have called me in the moment the reindeer spooked.”

Her insult hits me first, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my expression under control. But then, just as quickly, I catch something peculiar in what she said.

“How do you know the reindeer spooked?” I ask.

Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what she let slip. There’s no way she could have known the reindeer spooked unless she had been there, on my mother’s roof.

She tries to cover it up with a laugh. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? How else would they have ended up here?”

“Right, well, Missy didn’t mention you, so I think you should leave,” I snipe.

Her face falls. “I don’t think that’s the best course of action. Someone has to deliver these presents, or Christmas will be ruined. I warned her about this. She’s clearly not ready.”

“But you are?”

“Of course I am,” she scoffs. “I’m a high elf ruling over this season. I was born ready.”

I squint at her. “And what exactly would you do differently?”

Jack battles a smile, but it’s too sick and wild to be restrained. “Everything.”

Rudolph huffs at the front of the sleigh, turning his head to stare at her. The red light emanating from his nose flares brighter, washing us both in crimson. I don’t think he likes her.

Oily guilt simmers in my belly. I don’t like Jack’s superior tone. Missy was ready. She was surprisingly happy to get the job done, all things considered, and she wasn’t letting the growing pains get to her. Until she met me. If anything, it was my bad attitude that pushed her over the edge. I know that.

It’s one thing to leave her stuff here. It’s another thing entirely to let someone else replace her for the rest of the night without her knowing. And besides…that’s her father’s coat.

I don’t trust this woman to pick up the slack out of the goodness of her heart. She has ulterior motives. She might even be partially responsible for the difficulties Missy had tonight. Who knows what she’ll do to Christmas if she gets her hands on it.

I’m the only one here to stop her. I’m the only one who can make it right.

So, I lift my chin and declare, “Missy will be delivering the rest of the presents tonight, so you can go.”

“When? I don’t see her.”

“She’s going to do it,” I say more forcefully. “I’ll make sure of it. The sleigh will be back on the road—er, in the sky—in no time.”

“You really think you can manage that?” Jack sneers.

“I think I’ll manage just fine. Toy distribution is my job, actually.”

Jack purses her lips like she tastes something sour. “I see.”

When she looks me up and down again, I can feel her displeasure. An icy darkness skitters over every inch of my bare skin. I ignore the menacing sensation and stalk forward, pushing past Jack to get to the sleigh. Reaching in, I snatch up the Santa coat and fold it over my arm before turning to face her again. “I have it all handled. I’m going to go get Missy now, and I think it’s best if you’re gone by the time we get back.”

One dark eyebrow lifts in defiance as she replies, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You think you mean something to her, but you don’t. You’re human. At the end of the night, you won’t even remember her.”

I hesitate. “What are talking about?”

Jack shrugs. “Ask her. Or don’t. It won’t matter. Tonight will end in disaster without me, but go ahead and have fun playing Santa’s helper while you still can.”

With a smirk, she draws one side of her cloak up and around her, and the air shimmers with sparkling frost, drawing inward as she disappears from the center. That airborne frost forms a star of ice and then bursts in a controlled flurry of snow. As the particles disperse, they evaporate.

It was like she was never even here.

But she was here, and now I have no choice but to retrieve Missy from that frat house and somehow persuade her to fulfill her duty.