Page 8 of Beards and Holly

The hours go by in a blur. I humor the kids and take hundreds of pictures with a dumbass smile on my face. Every so often, Holly flashes me a pitying smile I don’t hate, but everything else about this gig is horrific.

The owner of the mall comes by and talks with us, giving Holly praise for coming in clutch with a last-minute Santa. Then finally, when I’ve absolutely reached my people limit, I hear the sweetest words.

“And that’s a wrap. Ready to go home?” Holly asks.

“Fuck, yes,” I say and rush to the changing room for my clothes. After I meet her at the door, we walk out with a few other mall employees. The car ride home is mostly quiet, and I’m thankful because after that shitshow, I just want peace and quiet. Holly doesn’t seem to mind the silence, either, and when we get home and she parks, she simply thanks me and heads into her house.

Heading into mine, I’m mauled by my mammoth of a dog, who’s happy to see me, but made a mess of my couch cushions to let me know he’s mad about being left alone for so long.

“Good to see you, too, Gizmo,” I say sarcastically as he runs outside the moment I open the back door.

Assuming he’s headed out to the lawn, I take a moment to clean up and grab a much needed beer.

When I set out to find him, he’s not where I thought he’d be, but over at Holly’s again. The hour’s late, and after the night we’ve had, I feel a bit guilty making her deal with him. By the time I get to her porch, though, I can see them through the lit window. They’re cuddled together on the couch. He stars at her like a dog in love as she scratches him behind the ears.

The view could be on a fucking Hallmark card, and it does something to me. Taking another pull from the beer I’m still holding, I ring her doorbell, and it chimes with a Christmas melody.Jingle Bell Rock, I think it is.

Moments later, the door swings open, and I’m greeted by her bright smile. My dog stays on the couch, unmoving, and I just glare at him.

“Evening, neighbor. Looks like I was right about your dog liking me more.”

Again with the sass. I wonder what she’d do if I leaned in and kissed that smart mouth. I won’t, of course, but I can’t help thinking about it.

“Come on, traitor. Let’s go,” I tell Gizmo, who decides to hike up his leg and clean his manhood, making me grumble through clenched teeth. I love this mutt, but damn, does he pick the worst times not to listen to me.

“Doesn’t look like he’s ready to go. Want to come in? I’ve got another one of those, if you want it. It’s the least I can do after tonight.”

Feeling the weight of my almost empty beer, I relent, knowing I don’t have another at home. Plus, she’s right. Tonight was hell, and another cold beer sounds perfect.

“Thanks,” I say, stepping through the door. Gizmo stays comfortable on the couch as we make our way to the kitchen.

When she turns from the fridge holding a Michelob Ultra, I don’t hold back my groan. I was so looking forward to a real beer not that.

With the sass I’ve come to appreciate from her, she says, “Would you rather drink this or a bottle of hot sauce?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Neither to be honest.”

“Then get your ungrateful butt off my stool, and hit the road, Jack.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the beer,” I say, relenting and taking it from her outstretched hand.

Holly takes my empty bottle and pitches it in the trash. I don’t mean to let my eyes wonder down her back side, but that’s exactly what they do. She’s changed out of her elf costume and into a tight pair of black pants and another oversized sweater. This one is black and features the green grump with a heart that’s two-sizes too small.

“Would you rather live without your beloved Christmas holiday or grow green hair all over your body.”

It’s her turn to laugh at the ridiculous game.

“I would embrace being the Grinch and deliver presents to those in need.”

“Wouldn’t you worry about never finding a husband? You’ll be a green monster?”

With a smirk on her face, she doesn’t miss a beat, and damn, if my pants don’t feel a little tighter with her answer.

“Who says I’m looking for a husband? Whether I’m green or not, I love my life the way it is. If I were seeing someone, then suddenly turned green and he couldn’t love me the way I was, I would no longer see that man. Just because you’re desperate for a date, it doesn’t mean I am, buddy.”

Then she fucking winks at me.

“Okay, my apologies. You strike me as the wifey type, that’s all.”

---