Naughty Elf: Humbug (Santa’s Naughty Elf Mates)

Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

B axter Killian crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an answer. He wasn’t worried, really. The guy sitting in his living room with his dog, eating his pizza, was small. Almost delicate.

While it was hard to distinguish his hair and eye color with just the light from the TV, he could see the guy wore some sort of roughhewn clothes. Maybe he was unhomed, though he didn’t smell like it, and Sir Guffy sure seemed to like him.

“You scared the tinsel out of me!” The guy waved a hand, a piece of pizza flying through the air. Guffy leaped, catching it midair, drool flying.

“You’re in my living room,” Bax said. “Imagine how surprised I am.”

“Yeah…” The guy winced. “So, about that.”

“Mmmhmm.” Baxter knew how to loom. At six-three, two hundred and fifty pounds, and covered with tattoos, he knew how intimidating he was.

Not that this elfin fellow eating his pizza and drinking his beer seemed afraid of him.

“I’m waiting for my explanation.”

“Santa sent me.”

He blinked. Okay, that was a new one.

“Santa.”

“Yep.” The guy sucked down half a beer. “See all that plaster on the floor? I was in that.”

Curious now, because it was either give into the unholy urge to go look at the stuff all over his floor, or call the cops, Bax went to the fireplace and looked. Sure enough, the stuff that sat on his floor, and the dust on the mantel right above his stocking, was plaster. And it looked like the remains of a doll.

There was a tag that said, from Santa, hanging from a piece of tape on the mantel.

Clever.

“You expect me to buy this shit? I’m calling the cops.” He had left his phone on the bedside table, so he turned to go back to the bedroom to grab it.

“Wait.” The guy popped up out of his, Baxter’s, recliner. “Please.”

“Dude, you broke into my house, and now you’re claiming Santa put you in that weird plaster mold and sent you here? You’re nuts.”

Quick as a bunny, the guy moved in front of him, putting a hand on his chest to stop him. “Wait. Let me ask you a couple of questions.”

“You want to ask me questions?” Baxter looked down at the guy’s hand, though, because the touch on his bare skin made him shiver, his nipples going hard, his cock firming up in his pajama pants.

What the actual fuck?

There was no way he was horndogging over the guy who had broken into his house and eaten his pizza.

Guffy padded to the kitchen door and gave a soft woof, so he turned on his heel to go let him out to potty. It was cold as a witch’s tit in a brass bra out there, but Guffy loved the snow.

He went to the fridge then, grabbing the milk before getting a pack of Pop-Tarts off the counter. Might as well have a snack.

“Okay,” Bax said as his cock calmed down with the distance. “Ask away. Then I’ll call the cops.”

The guy licked his lips, following him into the light. He had these wildly green eyes, his hair a dark, shaggy blond. His features were almost dainty while remaining totally masculine, his nose sharp, his ears peeking out of his hair in points.

Fuck, he was adorable.

“Where am I?”

Bax scowled. “In my kitchen. We established that you were eating my pizza.”

The guy waved a hand. “I mean, where in the world. Like on the map.”

Was this the game they were gonna play? “Outside Telluride, Colorado. I kinda live in the middle of nowhere.” Baxter liked his solitude. He’d never really fit in with his peers, so as soon as he’d been financially independent, he’d gotten a house and a workshop in the boonies and gone lone wolf.

“Huh. Figures I go from snow to snow.” The guy rolled his eyes.

“What the hell does that mean? And what’s your name?” So he could stop calling him the guy.

The guy brightened. “Humbug. And you’re Baxter, yeah? I mean, I assume Mom is not sending gifts to the dog.”

“The dog is named Sir Guffy.” Baxter scowled. “Your name is Humbug?”

Humbug bowed. “Gavin Humbug McPherson, at your service.”

This had to be the weirdest dream he’d ever had. Bax leaned on the counter and tore open the Pop-Tarts, which made Guffy woof at the back door to be let back in.

He could hear the crinkle of a wrapper from the old Tomboy mine.

“I’m Baxter, yeah. Bax.”

“Nice to meet you.” Humbug waggled his eyebrows. “So, San Juans. Western Colorado. You live alone but for your dog… Have you always had trouble with people? Always felt like you didn’t mesh with them?”

That had him almost choking on his toaster pastry, but really, that wasn’t hard to surmise from his house, was it? One stocking. The only presents under his tree from his mom. A turkey breast and a box of Stove Top in the fridge and on the counter. The sign on the back kitchen door that said, “I like maybe three people and my dog.”

And that was pushing it.

“Maybe,” he owned. “What of it?”

“And did your mom have trouble conceiving?”

He jerked, staring, his milk halfway to his mouth. Yes. “That’s a damn personal question.”

Humbug’s face scrunched up, his expression both apologetic and wry. He sucked his teeth a bit. “Yeah. Sorry. But I need all the facts.”

“What facts?” Why was he answering this nutbag? Who called themself Humbug and broke into a man’s house claiming to be a gift from Santa.

And why was he so damn pretty?

“About you. And why Santa sent me to you, specifically. He said you were just what I needed…” Humbug crossed his arms and tilted his head, his eyes flashing this crazy metallic green for a moment. Like something out of the Emerald City in the Oz movie.

“You’re nuts.” That was the only answer for it. Humbug was loony tunes.

“No. I’m an elf, and I think I know how I ended up here. The reason you never fit in?”

“Oh, yeah?” He fed Guffy the rest of his Pop-Tart. “And why is that?”

Humbug grinned, dimples showing in his cheeks. “Because you’re a changeling, of course. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”