The added padding around his body made him feel like a stuffed animal, and he probably looked like one, too. He was surprised the mall didn’t insist that he wear blush for a hint of jolliness; he certainly didn’t have any otherwise. He had one reason to be thankful; with the fluffy mustache and beard, he didn’t have to worry about pretending to smile at his young tormentors.
He had nothing to smile about.
Lifting the phone to his ear, he waited impatiently for his lawyer to pick up. “Keep trying to get me out of this,” Tanner snapped.
“We’re working on it, sir,” the man replied.
Tanner hung up and made his way grudgingly into the main part of the mall Just out the door, he found himself confronted by kids who were there shopping with their parents.
“Santa!” a horde of them cried; they tugged free of their parents’ hands and rushed forward. Hell, he hadn’t even made it to his “throne” yet, and he was already suffering an onslaught of grubby fingers.
“Ho, ho, ho,” he bellowed a bit menacingly, and he kept on moving forward. This was community service and he would do his job — but nothing said he had to like it.
Tanner turned the corner and beheld his new prison, which was decked out with so many sparkling decorations, he knew he’d end up with a headache from the glare before the day was out.
His elves began lining the children up as he took his seat and tried to prepare himself for the next eight hours. This was going to be an excruciatingly long day.
“Hello, Santa. Are you ready for your first visitor?”
Tanner’s head whipped around as he recognized that voice.
Once again, he found himself caught in the bold blue gaze of his neighbor in the slums. What was her name? Kyla! Wow, he was stunned that he remembered. She’d been wearing a baggy sweatshirt the night before; she now had on a little elf costume that did her body far more justice.
Taking his own sweet time, he looked at her from head to toe, appreciating all the nice curves the costume did nothing to hide with its short skirt and fitted elf top. Her chest was a bit smaller than he normally liked, but on her frame, those puppies worked perfectly, and the nice curve of her delicious behind had him practically drooling in his Santa beard. His idle thought of spending a few weeks with his neighbor warming his bed had just become a serious plan.
“Bring the children up,” he said, his voice deep with instant lust. She paused and he knew she had no clue that he was the neighbor she had met the afternoon before. Why not have a bit of fun with her then and lighten up his day? “Do you want to sit on Santa’s lap?” he asked, grinning widely enough that she could see his teeth through all the fake hair.
He expected some sarcastic reply, something to show she was irritated with the dirty old man hitting on her. What he got instead took his breath away.
She leaned in close so none of the children could hear. “I’ve always had a Santa fantasy,” she practically purred, making his heart rate soar before she doused him in cold water. “Too bad you won’t get to hear what it is.” With that she smiled and walked away.
Mmm, the things he would do with his neighbor. His attitude improved tenfold. When the first kid landed a bit too hard on his lap, he didn’t even growl.
“I want a Barbie doll, and her Dream House, and an iPod, and…” The kid went on and on until she ran out of breath.
Tanner looked toward the camera as the bulb flashed and he wondered if he would be blind by the end of the day. After giving the girl a pat on her head, Tanner handed her a coloring book and then took the next kid, and the next, and the next.
By hour six, Tanner wasn’t feeling nearly as happy as when he’d first discovered his hot Santa’s helper. By closing, he was downright pissy.
This was going to be a hellacious few weeks. Even though he got to enjoy the view of his enticing neighbor’s backside, it didn’t quite make up for ordeals like these.
Chapter Seven
Kyla fumbled in her purse for her apartment key as she moved down the sidewalk toward the apartment building. Before she could look up, her legs tangled, and she felt herself falling forward as she heard someone let out an oof.
To her horror, Kyla found herself on the cold cement, on top of a small boy. Rolling quickly off him, she sat up and immediately reached out.
“Are you okay? I am so sorry,” she gasped as her hands ran over his arms and legs.
“I’m fine,” he said, though his wheezing told her that he’d had the breath knocked out of him. “My grandma needs help, though,” he said, almost pleading, his eyes desperate.
“Where is she? What’s the matter?” Kyla was instantly panicked. She didn’t handle emergencies very well.
“This way.” The boy grabbed her hand and began to pull her down the sidewalk. Kyla held his little hand and had to rush to keep pace with him as he moved. When they reached the bus stop halfway down the block, she found a woman sitting on the bench with a couple of plastic grocery sacks beside her and her shoulders hunched down low.
Kyla bent down to the woman, worried about what she would find. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
The woman looked up, her brow wrinkled, her gray eyes tired, and her hands showing clear signs of rheumatoid arthritis. “Oh, sweetie, I’m just fine. I did some shopping and I’m trying to get up the energy to carry the bags inside. Billy here was obviously alarmed — he’s such a good boy! — and he took off to find help before I could call him back. Thank you for bringing him to me. I worry when he wanders. He’s only five years old.”
“Let me help you with the bags. Billy found me and said you needed assistance.”
“Oh, that’s not your job, doll. I can do it. It just takes me a little bit longer these days.” The woman spoke with determination, though her voice sounded so exhausted.
“I’d be hurt if you didn’t let me help,” Kyla told her, and she grabbed both bags with one hand, though they were definitely heavy. She then held out the other hand to help the woman up.
“You’re too kind. I used to move around a lot easier, but old age, arthritis, and creaky bones are making it more difficult these days,” she said with a small laugh. “When they say seventy-five is the new fifty-five, they’re lying — at least when it comes to some of us.”
“I have days like that myself,” Kyla replied as she stood next to the woman and they began a slow walk back to the apartment building.
“I’m Vivian, by the way. What’s your name?”