Naughty Santa

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

“And mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap.”

“A mamma in her…” Jaden repeated after her. “Hey, what’s a kerchuf?” Jaden looked up from the poem they were reading, “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” He was clearly confused. “And why is the guy wearing a hat to bed?”

He was trying to memorize the poem to surprise his grandma on Christmas Eve. Paris wasn’t convinced he was going to make it all the way through, but she had promised to act it out and help him along the way if he got lost.

Why had she done that?

She had no idea. Except that she liked the kid. He was cute and smart, and Paris wasn’t sure she’d ever met anyone who loved Christmas as purely as Jaden did. It made her love it. Listening to him talk about Christmas and Santa and stockings and his family’s traditions on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning made her want to get into flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks, curl up on the sofa with cocoa, and be there. She just wanted to watch.

Growing up in California, she’d never had a white Christmas like the ones you see in books and movies. There was no snow, no sleigh rides, no roaring fires in fireplaces. They had trees and Christmas music and all of that, of course, but there was a part of her that wanted to go out sledding with Jaden and then caroling around the town with Sandy and then come in, cold and shivering but laughing and happy. Then she really wanted to be greeted by a big, hot construction worker who would wrap her in his arms and rub his hands up and down her back and tell her all the delicious ways he could help warm her again.

“Here.” Paris pulled her phone out and typed KERCHIEF into Google. She turned the phone so he could see an image of one. “This is a kerchief,” she said, pronouncing the word correctly for him. “And this—” She looked up nightcaps next and showed him. “This is the kind of cap they’re talking about. Men wore this to bed in the old days. Like when this poem was written.”

Jaden scrunched up his nose. “Why?”

“To keep their heads warm, I suppose,” she said. “Back in the old days, the houses weren’t heated like they are now. They had to keep warm somehow.”

“Couldn’t they just snuggle up?” he asked with a giggle.

Paris reached down and tickled his side. “Yeah, I bet they probably snuggled too,” she said with a little laugh.

“When I get cold, I go get into my grandma’s bed. I warm my feet up on her legs.”

Jaden was grinning a big grin that she was going to miss when she left.

“Oh man, she must really love you to let you do that. You better keep your cold toes over in your own house,” Paris told him. “I don’t want anyone warming their feet up on me in the middle of the night.”

“No one at all?”

The deep voice rumbled from behind her, and she looked over her shoulder at Joe. She gave him a flirtatious smile. “Well...I suppose there’s a chance that I could get so hot in bed that I might appreciate some cold toes.”

His cheeks were red from being outside repainting the sign. She was amazed how much he’d gotten done over the past couple of days. He’d been working his ass off. For her. She wasn’t sure why either. All of this was important for her to get done so she could sell the place, and he knew that. Paris got the impression he wasn’t thrilled with the whole idea of her selling. Yet, he was still helping her make things look better.

She’d told him this morning that she was very willing and able to repay him for all the work. Clever man had known exactly what she meant by that too because his eyes had gone dark with desire and she’d been late opening the store.

“Are your hands cold right now?” she asked. “I could help you out with that.”

“Put them in your pants!” Jaden told him. “That’s what I do! It’s always warm in there!”

For a second, it seemed that Joe had forgotten his nephew was there. He blinked at the little boy as Paris laughed.

“Is it always warm in your pants, Joe?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, it’s downright hot in there,” he said with a nod. “Maybe putting my hands in my own pants is the solution for a lot of things.”

Paris lifted a brow. Oh, so he thought he was going to take care of himself instead of expanding on their casual sex? That doing so was just as good as letting her help him out?

She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but using the vibrator she had delivered by Amazon Prime every time she found herself at home alone and thinking of him didn’t help a bit. All she wanted was the real deal.

Joe.

Only Joe.

Paris moved closer to him. Of course, they always had to be aware of Jaden and what he’d overhear—and repeat to Sandy—all the time. He’d told his grandma right away that Paris used the word “dammit” a lot when she was cleaning and organizing the store.

She ran her fingers over the front of his shirt. “I promise you I’ve spent more than a few nights in North Pole putting my hands in my own pants, and it’s really not as...effective.”

That now-familiar heat flared in his eyes. “Maybe you’re not doing it right. Maybe I could check out your technique, give you some pointers.”

Oh my God.

Was Joe suggesting she masturbate in front of him? She could so get behind that. “I’ve got twelve different ways of doing it.” That’s how many settings her new vibrator had. “I really like the third way,” she told Joe. “Actually, all of them are alright. They’re just not the same as...”

“You have twelve ways of warming up your hands?” Jaden asked.

Damn. Paris wasn’t used to having kids around.

“I have twelve, um, pairs of pants.” She had a shit ton more than twelve pairs, but she didn’t know how else to cover up her comment.

“But the third pair warms your hands up the most?” Jaden asked, looking completely confused.

Paris nodded slowly, looking up at Joe. “The third pair makes things really hot.”

Joe made a choking sound and grabbed her arm, pulling her to the side and addressing his nephew. “Are you done with your project? I’m going to take you over to Maggie’s place.”

“Why am I going to Maggie’s?” Jaden asked.

“Wait, who’s Maggie?” Paris couldn’t explain why she suddenly felt like she needed to know who Jaden was going to be with and if this Maggie person could be trusted, but the words popped out before she could stop them.

“Maggie is a friend of my mom’s,” Joe explained as he helped Jaden gather his books and crayons. “She watches Jaden sometimes.”

“Why does someone need to watch Jaden now?” she asked.

“The…” Joe cast a look at Jaden. “The people who want to talk to you about the seeds are on their way in.”

“Oh.” The potential buyers were on their way. Paris glanced at the clock. They were supposed to meet her here in about twenty minutes. She’d completely forgotten, thanks to their cold hands/warm pants conversation.

Jaden ran to the end of the counter to retrieve his snow boots, and she lowered her voice. “You think he’d catch on and say something to Sandy about them wanting to buy it?”

“I just don’t want him to be in the way.” Joe scooped Jaden’s coat from where the kid had shed it when he’d come in from the cold.

“In the way? He isn’t in the way,” she protested. “He’s great. Dog walker and customer service rep all in one.”

“I know.” Joe shrugged. “I just don’t want there to be any distractions. I’ll stay away too. You can text me after they leave.”

“You’re all a part of this,” she said. “I don’t want you to feel left out of this decision. If they buy the place, they’re going to get to know all of you.”

“Why?” Joe asked.

“Well, Sandy will still work here and?—”

“You don’t know that,” Joe cut her off. “They might not want to have a little boy showing the farmers around the store or getting his after-school snack all over the counter. They might not need Sandy.”

“But…” Paris knew all of that, of course. It was par for the course for a new owner to clean house on staff. But she hadn’t wanted to allow herself to consider that because it bothered her. A lot. Sandy and Jaden were a part of this store. They loved it. They knew it as well as they knew their own home.

Hell. This was a home to them.

Paris would have been lost without them, and she looked forward to Jaden running through the front doors every day. When the store was empty, they turned up the music—sometimes the country side, sometimes the Christmas side—and danced. He’d started bringing extra crackers and cookies in his snack bag so he could share with her. He’d helped her glue new sequins and white faux fur on the Christmas decor. She couldn’t imagine this place without him and Sandy.

“Anyway, we’ll get out of your way.” Joe seemed a little grumpy now and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She wanted to be flirtatious and say something cute and sexy, just so she could get a smile from him. But nothing came to mind. Suddenly she was thinking about calling her lawyer and getting him to add a clause to the sales agreement that would guarantee Sandy a job and Jaden a place to come after school.

Dammit.

She cared.

She cared about Sandy and Jaden and Joe. That was going to make all of this more complicated. If she could just say “sure, do whatever you want with the store” to the new buyers, it would be easy. But now she wanted to add stipulations. That was not how this was supposed to go.

“Okay,” Paris said reluctantly.

Joe and Jaden were already halfway to the door.

“I’ll text you later!” she called after him.

Joe just lifted his hand in a little wave without looking back.

Yeah, he wasn’t happy about her selling. But he’d still been helping her.

Why? What was going through that gorgeous head of his?

“Bye, Paris!” Jaden yelled back to her as Joe nudged him out the door. “See you later! Love you!”

Paris’s breath caught in her chest, and she literally couldn’t make a sound in response to that.

The door bumped shut behind them, and she pressed a hand over her heart. “That was like a bullet to the heart,” she murmured.

She was in so much trouble.

“I’m sorry, but I thought you understood we have no intention of maintaining the Christmas side of the store,” Mr. Corporate said to her as he stared disdainfully at the display she’d busted her ass setting up.

She had six trees, each themed to represent various aspects of Indiana. After online research, she’d been ordering ornaments like nobody’s business to make her vision come to life. There was the cardinal tree, the state bird, in a festive red and green with faux snow on the branches. She had a peony tree for the state flower, and it was a wondrous explosion of the pink blooms, even prettier than she’d envisioned in her head. The Colts tree was blue and silver and loaded with little Colts helmets, footballs, and horseshoes. She’d done a hunting and fishing tree, heavily featuring deer and trout. Bob had taken to teasing her about that one—saying they each deserved their own tree because water and land didn’t mix. There was an Indy 500 racing tree. Then last but not least, one that was meant to represent North Pole. It was candy canes and Santas, wreaths, and small-town buildings and houses.

Her trees were lit, and she meant that both literally and figuratively. The Christmas display rocked, and she was damn proud of it. Nancy Dunbar, the high school principal, had already bought the Colts one, fully decorated, as a Christmas gift for her husband, to be delivered on Christmas Eve.

“I was not aware of that,” Paris said carefully, trying to school her features so he wouldn’t see that she thought he was a pretentious prick. Mr. Corporate appeared to be in his forties, but he seemed much older than that. She hated the way he talked down to her. God. Everything about the way he held himself screamed arrogant asshole.

The older man with him was quiet, letting the younger man do all the talking. He was harder to read, though she didn’t think he seemed much more impressed by the store than his son and business partner. Her temper spiked when the younger man, Todd, studied their poor injured Alan Jackson reindeer, before turning to his father with a look that told her poor Alan was going to be the first casualty of the sale.

“The ROI isn’t worth it for ANC Supply to even consider it. Not to mention the tacky factor.”

Tacky? Oh, he had not just called the Holly Jolly half of the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed tacky.

It didn’t matter a bit that she’d thought the same thing when she’d first seen it.

This asshole did not get to disparage this store. Or the town where this store had been in business for years. Or the people who loved this store. Or her damned magnificent, holy-shit-she-didn’t-even-know-she-could-decorate-a-tree-like-that Christmas trees.

Okay, she was bitter. That peony tree was the very definition of fucking class. “Nostalgia sells. It’s part of the Holly Jolly Seed and Feed brand. Have you looked at the profit and loss statements?” The ones she had painstakingly inputted into software for this meeting, straight off Lydia’s paper records. It had taken two entire days.

“Of course.” Todd didn’t elaborate.

“The people of the town love this store,” Paris tried again. “I’m sure you understand that when new ownership takes over a business that’s an integral part of a community, immediate, sweeping changes don’t exactly endear the new owners to the customers they’ll depend on.”

Hint, fucking hint, asshole. You need these people. You have to make them like you.

Not that she’d exactly embraced that idea at first. But the people of North Pole were impossible not to like, and somehow, they’d come to like her too.

Everyone had commented on how great her trees were.

After a mere twenty minutes and taking several photos, the two men nodded and held out their hands for her to shake. “Thank you for your time,” Todd said, dismissively.

In other words, suck it.

Paris could tell from their body language and lack of questions they had no intention of making an offer.

Frustrated and sad and a little astonished that these people hadn’t been able to see the quirky charm here, she patted the reindeer one by one. “I’ll fly you back to L.A. before I let those bastards hurt you,” she murmured to poor Alan Jackson.

Paris went to the checkout area, and ignoring store owner convention, she jumped on the counter and reached below for a package of Jaden’s Goldfish crackers. She listened to Elvis Presley croon about having a “Blue Christmas” and ate each cracker fish in three tiny bites—tail first, then the head, then the middle. What she really wanted was a glass of wine. Okay—a bottle of wine.

When she had spoken to Todd on the phone, she’d really thought he and his business partner/father were interested. After all, the two of them had traveled all the way from Indianapolis to see the place. She’d seen Lydia’s books, so she knew the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed would be a solid investment for anyone. The store had operated in the black since its first year of existence, and it even turned a tidy profit annually. Granted, that profit hadn’t gone up, as much as remained steady, but that didn’t mean someone with a head for business couldn’t find ways to earn even more.

She’d come up with some of her own marketing plans over the past few days as she fixed up the Christmas side, like offering wreath-making classes and children’s craft classes. Not that she’d be around long enough to implement them.

Her own business had suffered a little over the last week and a half, but it was important to her to give Lydia’s legacy the attention it deserved. And for more than the mercenary original reason she’d had. To turn the biggest profit possible.

Now it was to ensure longevity for the store.

Paris bit the tail off another Goldfish grumpily. She reached into the bag for another cracker, depressed when she realized it was empty. Fucking snack packs. Why did it seem like they only had four crackers in them.

“Hello?”

Paris recognized Joe’s voice instantly, but for the first time since meeting the sexy lumberjack/carpenter, it failed to cheer her up. If anything, it made her feel worse. She knew him now. Intimately. Just like she did this store. And she really kind of had the hots for both.

It was way more satisfying to serve the customers here than it was in L.A. In North Pole, Paris felt appreciated.

As for Joe? He made her feel very, very appreciated.

Joe had entered on the Feed and Seed side, so he crossed the threshold into the Christmas store where she sat.

“Paris,” he said, walking toward her. “How did it go?”

She made a face, then crumpled up the cracker bag, tossing it in the direction of the wastebasket. She missed.

Joe gave her a curious gaze. “That well, huh?”

She laughed miserably, even as she shook her head. “Nope. You may find this surprising, but those big city slickers were not impressed with the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed.”

Joe leaned against the counter. “California girl is calling the dudes from Indianapolis, city slickers?”

“It’s called sarcasm. They thought they were all that, and they don’t know shit about business, clearly. Don’t they understand how delightful this store is? Don’t they understand that Lydia had the sense to understand she was creating the narrative of a brand?”

“I don’t even know what that means, but I’m not surprised they didn’t get it.”

“It’s about people. A sense of community. It’s not about just supplying feed. We’ve got Elvis singing on one side and...” she paused, struggling to hear. “And Toby Keith singing ‘Red Solo Cup’ over there. This place is amazing.”

Paris expected an answer, so when all that greeted her was silence, she peered at Joe, trying to figure out what his expression meant.

Was he disappointed to find the buyers hadn’t made an offer? Relieved?

No. In truth, he looked aroused.

“What?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are when you’re being passionate about something? Especially something that means so much to me?”