Santa Maybe (The Duchess Hotel #1)

Chapter 12

Twelve

While Rosie went to get paper plates, cups, and napkins, Drew took off his Santa coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Since it was dry-clean only, he couldn’t risk getting tomato sauce on it. And for both their sakes, it was time he stopped being Santa and went back to being plain old Drew.

It was the suit, wasn’t it?

He’d asked it as a joke, but when Rosie confirmed it, her words were like a shot of ice water through his veins. Her bold request for a kiss had been spurred on by the fantasy of kissing a sexy Santa. Nothing more.

As he opened the pizza box, the savory smells made his mouth water. He’d ordered his favorite kind, laden with mushrooms, roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts, eggplant, and black olives. They each loaded a couple of slices onto their plates and began eating, only to lapse into a painful silence. Gone was the easy camaraderie they’d shared over the past month.

When they both reached for the soda bottle at the same time, their fingers brushed together. He pulled back as if charged by an electric current. “You first.”

“Thanks.” She topped up her cup and passed him the bottle. “So…um…I just wanted to thank you for playing Santa. You did a great job, especially when you broke up that argument.”

“You’re welcome. Kids are pretty easy to relate to. Sometimes I help out at my sister’s preschool and lead her class in fun exercises. They call me Mr. Fitness.” Every time he showed up, her students greeted him like he was a rock star.

A slight smile crossed Rosie’s face. “Mr. Fitness. I like it. Are you doing any more Santa appearances this weekend?”

“Nope, but next Sunday, I’m going to visit a women’s shelter.” He noticed a smudge of tomato sauce on her cheek and almost leaned over to wipe it off but caught himself in time. It was probably for the best if he didn’t touch her right now. He passed her a napkin. “You have some sauce on the right side of your cheek.”

“Thanks for catching that. I don’t usually devour my food like a wild animal, but I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” She cleaned up the smudge. “Do you need any help next Sunday? I could come if you want, though I’m not sure what I’d wear. The only festive attire I have is an ugly Christmas sweater.”

“Lucky for you, there’s a matching elf costume. If you don’t mind wearing it, I’d love to have you along.”

Rosie laughed. “You own an elf costume? Dude, you’re all-in on this holiday stuff.”

To be fair, it did sound a little weird. What guy in his twenties owned a Santa suit and an elf costume? “I bought it last year because my sister suggested it. She thought it might be fun to help me out. She tried it a few times, but it wasn’t her thing. So, I’ve been elf-less this year.”

“Elf-less.” Rosie gave a little snort. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“Would you be willing to step in and be my elf? Just for next Sunday?”

“I’d be glad to.”

Yes. He wanted to pump his fist in triumph. “Why don’t I drop off the costume next Saturday when I come here to play Santa? Then I can pick you up on Sunday and drive you to the shelter. Do we have dinner at your family’s house that night?”

“Nope. Our next one’s tomorrow—if you can make it. If not, it’s okay. You’ve already endured two of them.”

“I’m happy to do it, especially if your mom gives me more leftovers.” The last time he’d brought food home, he’d made it last for two nights. There was nothing quite like coming back to his apartment after a hard day at the gym and knowing he had homemade chicken enchiladas waiting for him.

“Thanks. It’s been such a relief, having you there with me. My mom hasn’t nagged me about being single for a full month.”

Yet another reminder that this thing between him and Rosie was an agreement. A pact . And if she was offering to come with him next Sunday, it was probably because she wanted their arrangement to feel more reciprocal. Which was exactly how he wanted it. Two good friends, helping each other get through the holidays as best they could.

When they were done eating, they pushed the tables and chairs back to their normal spots and dragged the throne and the photo booth into the storage area of the breakfast room. She retrieved a stash of cleaning supplies from a cupboard, and they got to work tidying the room.

Though they’d reverted to their comfortable friendship, every time he glanced at her, he thought about those kisses. The taste of her lips, the feel of her curves pressed against him, the little noises she’d made when he kissed her neck. A part of him wished he could have kept going. Or better yet, taken her back to his place, where he could carry out all her Santa fantasies.

Nope. Not gonna happen .

Instead, he kept his focus where it should be—on the Duchess. “Your first family Saturday went really well. You had a good crowd, and the kids enjoyed it.”

“It totally exceeded my expectations, especially after the Restalls showed up.”

“Do you think today’s success will be enough to sway your boss? So that he’ll let you keep your job?” The longer Drew spent with Rosie, the more he wanted things to work out for her.

“Probably not. We still need to increase our occupancy rate, and I’m not sure if we can make that happen between now and New Year’s. No matter how many holiday amenities we offer, most people already booked their hotel stays back in the fall.”

“What about reviews? I’ll bet some of the families will leave five-star reviews.”

She gathered up the cleaning supplies and put them back in the cupboard. “They might, but not right away. A lot of times, guests don’t review a place for months, if at all. The ones who write lightning-fast reviews are usually people who are so pissed off that they can’t wait to trash the hotel in a public forum.”

Which was obnoxious, but not surprising. He flashed her a quick grin. “How about I make a bunch of fake accounts and leave glowing reviews? Like, ‘Wow, this is the most Christmas-centric hotel ever,’ or ‘I love how the Duchess caters to families during the holidays!’ If you need more, I’m sure my sister would write some, too.”

“I appreciate the offer. Make sure you mention how top-notch our Santa was.”

The twinkle in her eyes made him want to leap across the room, enfold her in his arms, and devour that sweet mouth of hers with more kisses. But he forced himself to behave.

“You and the Damsels have been working so hard,” he said. “It’s totally unfair that your boss could still let you go, despite all the efforts you’ve made.”

“That’s how it is in the hotel biz. If the Lyons family ever sold the Duchess to a chain—like Fairmont or Hilton—the new owners would probably bring in their own team of managers. It happens all the time.” She scanned the room. “I think we’re good here, so let’s get going. I’ll lock up behind us.”

As they left the breakfast room and headed toward the lobby, Drew was pleased to note how busy it was. A bunch of the Restalls were clustered around the fireplace, talking loudly. Another group occupied the plush gray couches, their raucous laughter carrying clearly. At the front desk, the clerks wore Santa hats and were bopping around to the Jackson 5’s version of “Frosty the Snowman.”

The Duchess was definitely rocking a holiday vibe. But would it be enough?