Little Miss Santa Claws

8. Missy

CHAPTER 8

Missy

I swing my hips to the beat of the rock song, my head buzzing and my body tingling from that last shot of vodka. I’ve had, arguably, way too much, but my brain is in no condition to regret it and scold me…yet.

The goal is to get so drunk, I can’t remember why I needed to. I think it’s working.

Another college guy tries to wiggle up next to me, and I quickly spin so the bell of my hat slaps him across the face. He hisses, staggering away, and I smile. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. If we talk, I’m going to see them. Every bit of them. Who they are and what they want, what they need . I just don’t have room for it right now. I don’t have the strength to bear it the way my father did, all that knowledge and hope.

They don’t even appreciate what we do—these selfish humans.

A warm hand wraps around my upper arm, and I spin around, fully prepared to wield my heavy bell against the newcomer, but I look up at a pair of familiar green eyes.

“Nicole! You’re back.” My words are a little slurred.

Her gaze tracks across my face, and she frowns as her hand tightens on my arm. “Missy, we have to go.”

She tries to tug me toward the door, but I dig in my heels and resist.

“But I love this song,” I whine.

Nicole makes an exasperated noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl. When I pull away, she crosses her arms and says, “Do you even know what this song is about?” She’s referring to the barely-veiled hedonistic lyrics blaring all around us.

I laugh. “I might be Santa, but I’m no saint. I had a life before this, you know? I loved parties. I was wild .” I roll my hips, letting my head loll back as I surrender again to the beat.

When my eyes open, I see Nicole is watching me intently, her lips parted and jaw slack.

“Why does that shock you?” I ask, drawing closer to her as my voice drops to a whisper. “You don’t think us Clauses know how to be naughty? I’ll have you know, I’m the naughtiest .”

I press against her, chest to chest, and rest my forearms on her shoulders.

Her brow furrows behind the frame of her boxy glasses, but her lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile. “You are the drunkest, at the very least.”

“Oh,” I sigh, pouting as I lean my weight against her. She’s so tall. “I don’t know about that. My brother might have me beat on that front. On all fronts, if I’m being totally honest. But he’s had more practice.”

Nicole’s eyes soften. “ I really need to talk to you. Let’s go outside.”

I pull away. “I don’t want to talk. I want to dance.”

“Missy, listen to me. This is important. This is about Christmas.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time— thinking about Christmas —and look at where it got me,” I argue. “Look at where it got my father. Clearly, I’m better off staying far, far away from Christmas. At least I’m appreciated around here.”

I gesture to the party around us.

Nicole rubs her forehead, and that’s when I realize she has my father’s coat folded over her arm. She must have left the bag outside. “Missy, you’re Santa Claus. Millions of children all around the world appreciate you. They adore you.” She steps forward and reaches for me, but I back away.

“Until they resent me. Until I’m nothing more than a fairytale they keep alive for their children. Here, I’m always real. I can be seen and felt.” I clutch at my chest, bunching the material of my shirt in my palm, and Nicole’s gaze briefly slides down to study it. I sway to the music again, but I’m not really trying. “I just want to be real again.”

Nicole grabs my elbows. Her eyes flutter, and it takes her a long time to find the words to respond. “I know tonight has been hard for you,” she says, “and I know I didn’t make it any easier. But it’s not over yet. It’s not over until you stop trying. So, just give yourself one more chance to do what you love, Missy. Give me one more chance to help you. I can explain everything if you just come outside with me. You’ll feel better afterward, I promise.”

Her words tear through my drunken haze. Our eyes meet, and I see the guilt in her heart. She means it. All of it.

But I’m not ready to leave yet. I want to enjoy this side of her for as long as she allows it —the vulnerable and hopeful. She has kept it locked up for far too many years. I smile and drift forward, my body brushing against hers as I surrender to the music. “Okay, I’ll come outside, but not until you daaaance .” My hands coast up and down her arms as I bounce along to the song, my eyebrows wiggling in an attempt to coax her into motion.

Frustration and temptation battle across her features, but eventually, she sighs. “I guess I can’t argue with that. Fine. One dance.”

I squeal and throw my arms around her. “Yay!”

“Don’t get too excited,” she says with a laugh. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Hollybaubles!” I gasp, lowering my heels back to the ground. Dropping my hands to her hips, I press myself against her, willing her body to follow my lead. “All you have to do is feel it.”

Her breath catches, her nails digging into my upper arms. She tries to imitate the roll of my hips, but her movements are staggered, confused. “Feel what?” she grumbles.

I chuckle and caress her hips soothingly.

Launching onto my toes again, I grab her shoulders to whisper in her ear, “Let the music take you without worrying about what the other people in this room are thinking. They care less about you than you think they do.”

“Wow. Thanks for that reminder.”

I give her a chastising look.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” She stills for a moment, her brow furrowing as she listens intently to the song. Then, her eyes slide to mine. Her cheeks redden and her glasses fog up, but her shoulders loosen beneath my palms. In the next breath, she tentatively rocks her hips from side to side.

“Don’t be shy,” I croon, taking her hands in mine. “I don’t bite. Not in this form, anyway.”

She snorts loudly then slaps a hand over her nose and mouth in surprise, and I find it totally, absurdly adorable.

I place her hands around my waist and reach up to wrap my hands around the nape of her neck. She’s warming up now. I close the space between us and curl my body around hers, wiggling and grinding against her thigh. Her motions grow bolder, my touch seeming to put her at ease. She closes her eyes, her hands tightening around my waist as she rocks her body against my hip. The closer she gets, the better it feels, the friction and warmth. We inch together until I’m sure there’s no place I can’t feel her. Her thigh between mine. My body in her hands. Her exhales billowing against my parted lips.

I love the way her body feels against mine. Granted, I haven’t been touched like this in quite a while, and even I can admit I’ve neglected my sensual side recently.

But a massive part of the excitement I feel in this moment is for her .

Excitement for the curves beneath her jacket. The cadence of her breathing. The way the wispy hairs around her face cling to her temples as she works up a sweat. She smells so good. I want to lick every inch of her clean. I want to hear the whimpers that catch in the back of her throat. I want to hear her scream.

“There you are,” I say in a smoky murmur. “I think you’ve found it.”

Nicole laughs airily, and the sound prickles down my spine. A warm heaviness pools in my center. “Well, I’ve certainly found something .”

I pull back just far enough to gaze into her pale green eyes. She looks as aroused as I feel, with dilated pupils and heavy lashes. Her glasses are too steamed up to be useful anymore, so I slide them to the top of her head and comb my fingers through her dark hair, guiding the flyaways toward her bun. “Something good?”

Her head tilts as she considers the question, considers me . In a soft voice, she says, “Something…worthwhile.”

Tiny electrical shocks tingle throughout my torso and into my limbs. We’re pressed together as firmly as we can be, but it’s not close enough. It won’t be enough until I’m inside her. Until I’m a part of her. My body makes the decision to kiss her before my brain can catch up.

And then, my lips are on hers.

Her mouth is soft and delicious, and I can’t help but devour her. She tastes like lemon and sugar. The surprised stiffness in her body quickly melts away as she kisses me back, her arms wrapping around my back to pull me in. Our bodies feverishly grind together. She moans against my mouth, and I flick her lips with my tongue, begging to be let inside. More, more, more.

My heart thunders so hard, I can’t hear the music anymore, so when Nicole pushes me away, the silence in the room is as jarring as the sudden distance between us.

A new song starts playing, but I can’t pay any mind to it. All my attention belongs to her .

Nicole and I stand a foot apart, staring at each other. Her eyes are large and glassy, and her hands tremble slightly as she presses them against her stomach and lips. “Oh my God,” she breathes, shaking her head in bewilderment.

My heart drops into my gut, and my head starts spinning.

The alcohol churns painfully in my stomach, and my thoughts instantly sober me up. I just kissed her. A human woman, without permission…and she rightfully rejected me. Not only have I dishonored my father and all of the North Pole tonight by almost giving up on Christmas, but I then threw myself at a woman who has experienced one of the hardest years of her life. And I did it knowing exactly what a year like that feels like.

If this doesn’t put me on the naughty list, I don’t know what will. My stomach clenches, my mouth watering as I stagger back a couple of steps.

Nicole stretches a hand toward me, concern etched into her brow. “Missy? Are you okay?”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” I mutter.

Bile burns at the base of my throat, and I throw myself forward, stumbling across the living room and out the front door mere moments before I have to turn and puke over the edge of the porch. As I empty my stomach, all I can think about is the little ones all around the world who will wake up disappointed in the morning, and the one inside my heart I’ve already let down.

I manage to stagger off the porch, falling to my hands and knees next to the house. Between heaves, I apologize to the bushes that were assailed by my vomit. I hope they don’t die because of me. Bells are ringing in my ears, radiating into the back of my skull.

Has the frat house started playing Christmas music?

My body shakes all over, and my father’s hat is sliding forward, dangerously close to landing in the mess I’m making. It’s going to fall, and I’m too decked to catch it.

A warm hand appears on my back, and another snakes into my periphery, pulling the hat off my head. I recognize her scent immediately, floral and sweet. Nicole. She drags her hand down my spine over and over as I puke again. Her presence only makes me sicker. Her hands pull my hair back, fisting it at the back of my neck. She murmurs overhead, a string of soft words I can’t quite understand as I collapse in on myself.

I want to shrivel up and die.

The only thing worse than the sickness is knowing this beautiful woman is here to witness it, that she’s comforting me after I basically attacked her with my mouth.

She tells me that it’s going to be okay, but I don’t feel like I deserve to be okay.

When I feel like I’ve reached the end of the purging, I sloppily wipe my mouth on the bunched sleeve of my shirt. I’m glad I’m not wearing my father’s coat anymore. I don’t know if I could forgive myself if it had to bear the evidence of my failure.

“That’s it,” Nicole murmurs. “Do you feel better now?”

I frown, keeping my eyes closed. “I don’t know.”

“Do you need to throw up again?”

“No,” I sigh.

“Okay. Let’s try sitting up, then.” Her hand finds my shoulder and gently pulls me upright.

My stomach twists a little, but I manage to swallow the urge to puke again. As I sit up, I reluctantly open my eyes.

Nicole smiles apologetically before releasing my silver hair to fall freely down my back. She scoots closer and tucks a few tendrils behind my ears. “Your hair is so pretty in the dark,” she says.

I know she’s just being nice, just trying to make me feel better. It’s hard not to empathize with someone in misery, even when they’re little more than a stranger. But that also means she must not harbor too many ill feelings about me kissing her, and for that, I’m grateful.

I lean away. “Yeah, well, at least I have one thing going for me.”

Her hands fall into her lap, her thin brows pinching before she replies, “You have a hell of a lot more than that working in your favor, Missy. You have your sleigh and the reindeer. And for tonight, you have me too. I’m going to help you, okay?”

“Why would you want to help me?”

Nicole’s gaze flits to the sleigh and then back to me, her eyes narrowing in determination. “Missy, I don’t think this was your fault. When I was leaving earlier, I ran into Jack Frost.”

My heart stops dead in my chest. “What did you just say?”

“She was trying to take over the deliveries.”

My palms start clamming up. I feel damp all over, hot and cold at once. “Jack Frost was here?” I demand, needing her to confirm it just one more time.

Nicole nods slowly, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “She knew about the reindeer spooking. Based on the way she was acting, I think she might have been the one to do it somehow. You weren’t the one who lost the sleigh. Maybe she’s been following you, messing with you all night?”

Of course, she was. There’s not a doubt in my mind.

“Ugh,” I groan, doubling over. “That jealous bitch .”

I turn and throw up again, needing to get this anger out. My stomach remembers my feelings for Jack as well as my mind does, and it eagerly complies, trying to rid itself of our memories. I wish it was that simple.

“Yeah,” Nicole murmurs, her hands returning to my temples as she gathers my long hair away. “I had a feeling she was lying when she said you were old friends.”

I glare at the pool of acid under my face.

“Friends?” I echo angrily. “No, not so much. We were a lot more involved before Papa died.”

“Oh,” Nicole exhales. After a beat, she asks, “Why is she trying to steal your job?”

I shake my head as I sit up again, pointedly avoiding Nicole’s stare. “Long story.”

“Yeah, well, I think we have a moment. We probably shouldn’t attempt moving you too much yet. You still look a little green.”

I study Nicole’s face. She’s smirking at me because she knows I know she’s right. If I move right now, I’m going to lose the contents of my stomach again, and I don’t think there’s much of anything left to lose.

“Okay,” I murmur, “fine. The highlights are, we dated for a year before my father died, and then she fell off the radar. She up and disappeared. No call, no letter, no explanation. It was hard enough to lose my papa, but I lost her too that day. And then, when my brother left the North Pole last month, she came back. She pretended to be worried about me, told me her family forced her to stay away and gave me all these excuses about why she couldn’t be there for me when I needed her. I loved her so much, and I was so elfin’ lonely that I believed them for a while. But as it turned out, she just wanted to talk me into giving up my father’s job.”

Nicole’s lips press together, her green eyes burning with thinly-concealed rage. “Wow. Bitch is right.”

I shrug. “I should have seen it coming. The Frost family has always wanted a piece of Christmas. They think it’s owed to them because they’re responsible for the winter season. It’s not even winter for some countries when Christmas comes to town, though, you know? They’re just greedy. But I think that’s what made our relationship so exciting. At first, we were like…Romeo and Juliet, if you need a human comparison. Daughters of two opposing magical families. Papa tried to warn me about her many times, and I didn’t listen. I should have.”

The Frosts are not tethered to this planet or any other. They are nomadic elves, and they lust after Christmas and all other sources of magic they can find.

They know the power of the magic we harvest. The energy Christmas Eve exudes, the human joy that fills their atmosphere, is so thick and viral a presence that we can skim a few inches off the top to keep The North Pole going, to keep us returning to this galaxy year after year. In exchange, we bring them gifts. It’s an old covenant, as old as the Claus name. Wherever humans are found, throughout time and space, there we are.

The Frosts would suck the human race dry at every turn if given the chance. They certainly try.

Nicole rests a hand on my thigh. “You couldn’t have known then what you know now.”

I stare at her hand for a long moment, trying to decide whether I should allow her to comfort me or if I should push her away. The way she’s talking to me, the way she’s touching me…it makes me want to reciprocate. It makes me want to do very naughty things to her. After a moment, I decide that doing anything at all would be a mistake, so I let her hand remain where it is.

I mutter, “No, but that doesn’t make me feel any less terrible about the way things turned out.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She gives me another meek smile and lifts the hand on my leg in an offering to help me up. “Well, what do you say we try getting back to the sleigh now and show her how wrong she is?”

“What if she’s right?” I ask quietly.

Nicole rises to her knees, towering over me. “Not a chance,” she says. “You’re Missy Claus, remember? You are built for this. If your dad could see how much you love being Santa—how much you’ve stepped up for Christmas this year—he would be proud of you. He would be rooting for you, like I am. Believe in yourself the way he did, the way I’m sure he still does.”

My heart swells. Her faith gives me faith, true or not.

I place my hand in hers and allow her to pull me to my feet. The moment I’m standing, my knees wobble, and Nicole has to catch me before I topple over. A miserable moan escapes my lips. “Oh, gingersnaps and pecan pie.”

“I know,” she says gently. “Come on, just a short walk, and then you can sit down again.”

I lean heavily on Nicole as we cross the yard to the sleigh. My head starts spinning all over again, and it takes all my willpower not to heave. She helps me climb into the sleigh, and I collapse onto the bench. I can barely keep my eyes open.

“How am I going to deliver presents like this?” I cry, curling up with the bag of presents.

The sleigh jostles as Nicole hefts herself into it behind me. “I—uh, well, I guess I can help deliver them until you feel better. Just tell me what to do.”

“I’m so tired,” I whisper.

Nicole grabs my shoulders and leans down until her face is inches from mine. “Focus, Missy. Tell me what I need to do, and then you can take a nap.”

I point at the dashboard installed into the front of the sleigh. “The radio,” I murmur. “There’s a walkie talkie that will connect you to the elves back at the North Pole. Tell them that a watcher has been given the reins. They’ll know what that means.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what that means.”

Darkness tickles the edges of my vision. My bones are heavy. I muster up enough strength to say, “It means you take the reins off the hook, Nicole. You put on the coat. You drive the sleigh.”

“What?” she squeaks. “I don’t know how to drive a sleigh!”

“Hold on tight. The reindeer will do the rest,” I mumble.

My head slackens against the seat of the sleigh. I’m still half awake, but my lips refuse to form another word. All I can do is listen to Nicole curse and mutter to herself as she climbs over me to the empty seat on the other side of the sleigh.

The reins jingle as she removes them from the hook above the radio, and I try—I really do try —to tell her to call the elves first, but I can’t.

It’s too late.

The instant the reins are in her hands, the reindeer surge forward, eager to return to work. Nicole squeals as they take off, but since the sleigh keeps moving smoothly, I know she managed to keep ahold of the reins. I’m so elfin’ proud of her for that.

A melody of bells rings out as the reindeer stampede. The sleigh swings sideways as the herd turns sharply to race across the yard. They’ll need as much leeway as they can get for take-off. We start to lift, just the front of the sleigh at first, but then the rest of it follows as the ancient magic hidden within the wood reawakens. It washes over me like a million feathers teasing my skin. The reindeer circle the yard in wild loops to gather momentum, rising and dipping, preparing to travel through time and space to get to the next house on our route.

Nicole makes a small, high-pitched squeak as we lift higher.

My stomach clenches, and my body turns of its own volition to the edge of the sleigh. I puke again, and the yellow acid rains down on the yard.

I hear a small, raspy male voice below us groan, and I’m able to peel my bleary eyes open for a second as we make one final sweep downward. The frat kid who was passed out in the yard is awake. Michael Dunne. On the naughty list, but not for long. “Whoa,” he whines. “Aw, man, I definitely took way too many mushrooms.”

Then, the sleigh veers straight up, and I slide until my back is flat against the bench. The last thing I see is streams of cobalt light as the starry night opens to envelop us.