Santa Daddy, I’m Not the One

3

LANDON

“ D o you think Santa will dock our pay?”

“Your pay is the last thing you should be worried about. Didn’t you see Santa’s expression? He doesn’t belong here.”

“Then why did he make it through the Crossing?”

The hushed voices ushered me into wakefulness, pulling me farther and farther away from my dream, where I was enveloped in such warmth I felt like I was wrapped up in a cocoon of pure sunshine. I blinked open my eyes, still heavy with sleep, and squinted at the source of the whispers. Two figures stood nearby, small and peculiar, with pointy ears and bright, curious eyes. Their pointy hats bobbed in sync with their murmured exchanges.

What in the world?

I rubbed my eyes and shifted to sit up, but when I opened my eyes again, they were still standing huddled together by the grand fireplace made of ice. My eyes bugged out. A fire was burning in the ice structure, but it wasn’t melting.

“I’m dreaming,” I murmured.

The room was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It felt like something out of a fairy tale or a child’s dream. The walls, glowing a soft midnight blue and dotted with tiny twinkling lights, curved upward to a mesmerizing ceiling that mirrored the night sky outside, complete with shooting stars leaving behind a streak of silver glitter. And right in the middle hung an enormous crystal chandelier, its icy shards capturing fragments of firelight and throwing them around the room.

“You’re awake!” one of the dream elves chirped. “You were out for far longer than we thought.”

“That’s because Pix used too much sleigh dust.”

Everything came back to me in a rush: firing my assistant, walking into my home to be attacked by two little people pretending to be elves.

“You kidnapped me!” I sprang to my feet and gasped. The floor wasn’t covered in soft fur like I’d thought, but snow. Except it wasn’t cold.

“No, we brought you to the happiest place on earth.”

“We’re at Disney World?” I ran over to the single window in the room and stared out. A vast expanse of snow stretched as far as the eye could see. No sign of a city, no buildings, nothing but endless white.

“The North Pole!” Pix cried. “For keeping the magic of Christmas in your heart, we’re here to make your dreams come true by showing you that the world you’ve always wanted to see as a child actually exists. You don’t just have to believe anymore. Now you know.”

“Are you two high?” I asked. “I don’t know how the hell you managed this, but I demand to be brought home right this minute.”

“Umm, I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to do that,” the other elf said.

“And I guess Santa’s helpers are about to demand a ransom?” I laughed. “Well, you’re out of luck. There’s no one for you to ask for a ransom. I have no family. And I’d rather die than give you a dollar.”

Pix shook his head. “You’re mistaken. We don’t want anything. You’re really in Santa’s guest room at the North Pole.”

“This can’t be real,” I muttered.

“It’s as real as it gets!” the other one said. Dix, was it?

I turned to face them, my frustration mounting. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I want to go home. Now.”

“But you can’t leave yet,” Pix said, his voice laced with concern. “The Yuletide Crossing has closed. You’ll have to wait.”

“Yuletide what? No, I’m not waiting for anything. I don’t know how I got here, but I want out. I didn’t agree to take part in this.”

“You should wait to talk to Santa. He’ll fix everything.”

“Talk to Santa?” I laughed, a harsh, disbelieving sound. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Santa isn’t real. This is some kind of hallucination. Maybe I hit my head…”

Yes, that was it. Any minute now, I would wake up from this bizarre dream…nightmare. Of all the dreams to be trapped in, Christmas with elves and Santa was the worst!

“We assure you, Santa is very real,” Pix said earnestly. “And you’re here because… well, we thought you believed.”

“Believed?” I glowered at them with a cold, hard stare. “In what?”

“The magic of Christmas.”

Oh God, I was trapped with two deranged people who thought they were elves. “I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I believed in Santa, so it’s obvious you have the wrong person, so I’ll be on my way.”

I stormed toward the door, determined to leave this ludicrous fantasy behind. Pix and Dix scurried after me, their tiny feet padding against the snow-covered floor.

“Please wait for Santa!” Pix pleaded, his voice edged with desperation. “He’ll explain everything.”

Ignoring their protests, I threw open the door, which banged against the wall. And walked right into a block of wood. No, not wood. An enormous man towered over me, looking like a lumberjack with broad shoulders and muscles that strained against his red-and-white shirt. His beard, while long, was well groomed and nowhere near the cascading white waterfall in pictures of Santa. His dark chestnut hair was tousled as if he ran his fingers through it several times during the day. But it was his eyes that caught me off guard—a deep, intense blue with flecks of snowflakes, piercing and captivating. My mouth went dry, and my heart pounded. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Who…who are you?” I stammered, stepping back.

“Santa, you’re here,” Dix said.

I peered up at the man, disappointment snowballing into my gut. For a minute there, I had hoped…but no, he was one of them. A figment of my imagination. He certainly looked the part of the Daddy I’d always dreamed of, but why was he dressed up as Santa Claus, boner killer extraordinaire? There was nothing like the memory of the disappointing being who had never visited me once on Christmas. I hadn’t even been worth coal in my stocking.

“Ah, the elves didn’t mention that you were actually Santa Daddy.” I rolled my eyes. “I think you missed the memo about the beer gut, the long beard, and the whole ‘old’ thing.”

He furrowed his brow, and a frown settled on his too-handsome face. “You’re definitely from the naughty list, all right,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “I can smell a brat a mile away.”

“Exactly, a brat. What are you going to do to me? Banish me to work in the coal mines?”

“No. But brats do require a firm hand.”

A shiver ran up my spine. I dropped my gaze to his big hand. Was he talking about a spanking?

“I’m not staying.” I ignored the unsettling flutter in my stomach. This man, this Santa, was attractive, and it was throwing me off-balance.

Santa studied me, his gaze piercing. “Believe me, there’s nothing we’d like more than to have you return to where you’re from. We don’t need your kind in Twinkle Glen, but you’re stuck here until the Yuletide Crossing reopens. I suggest you make yourself comfortable and stay out of sight until then.”

“Stuck? No way. There’s got to be another way out. I refuse to be a part of this… this Christmas charade.”

Santa’s expression softened slightly, but the authority in his stance never wavered. “I understand this is difficult to grasp, but you’re at the North Pole. And while you’re here, we need to find out why you were brought here, especially since you seem to lack the Christmas spirit. Are you sure you don’t believe?”

I crossed my arms, trying to mask the effect his presence had on me. “Do I look like I believe in the Christmas spirit? I don’t do Christmas, and I certainly don’t do make-believe North Pole and a Santa who looks like he belongs on the cover of Men’s Vogue.”

My cheeks burned, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. Stupid. Stupid. I hadn’t meant to use those words. Now he probably knew I found him attractive.

Santa let out a low, warm chuckle. “Well, Landon, whether or not you believe, you’re here. And we have two weeks to sort this out. In the meantime, maybe we can rekindle that lost spirit of yours.”

I turned away from his disarming smile. “Never had it in the first place, so good luck finding it. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You be a good little boy and stay in this room.” He gestured at the elves. “Since these two are responsible for your predicament, I’m leaving them at your beck and call. Whatever you want, you ask them, and they will do it. I just have one condition.”

I licked my lips. “And what’s that?”

“You don’t leave this room.”

“So I’m your prisoner?”

“No, you’re my guest—”

“Who can’t come and go as he pleases. Hence the definition of a prisoner.”

Santa cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Do you ever stop talking, or will I have to mute that sassy little mouth of yours?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.” He crossed his arms. “None of us like the fact that you are here, Landon, but we’ll have to make the best of the situation. Either you can make your stay here unpleasant, or you can, for once in your life, try to understand the concept of being good.”

“Why should I be good?” I fired back. “People only want you to be that way so they can take advantage of you. I’d rather just be myself, thank you very much.”

Santa stared at me, and I couldn’t look away. I wanted to continue my rant, but it was as if he was seeing into my soul.

“Someone hurt you,” he said softly.

I inhaled sharply and turned away from him. The bag the elves had thrown over my head lay on the floor, and I snatched it up. “Since no one wants to take me home, I’ll just take myself.”

“What is he doing?” Pix asked.

I flung the bag over my head. Nothing happened. “Come on, dammit!” I yanked the bag from over my head and threw it onto the floor. “Why won’t it work?”

“You don’t have the magic,” Dix said with a shrug.

“Magic isn’t real,” I yelled. “And you’re not real. Stinking bag.” I jumped on it, but nothing I did would put a dent in it.

“That’s enough, Landon,” Santa said sternly. “Now sit in the corner and think about your behavior and your attitude.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll never leave this room while you’re here. But if you behave, I’ll show you around, make it as pleasant for you as possible.”

I turned my back to him lest I caved in from looking at him for too long. “I don’t want to see your stupid North Pole. I just want to go home.” For so long, I’d been without a home, and now that I had one, they were going to rip me away from it?

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Santa said. “Dix, Pix, see that he doesn’t leave this room. When he’s ready to change his attitude, you let me know.”