Page 6 of Beards and Holly

His cocky smirk makes me reevaluate my words, and I add, “For a Santa. I need the favor just like you desperately need a date.”

The sass drips from my words to let him know I’m far from desperate for him.

He had to be desperate for this fake scenario, or he wouldn’t have claimed me in his driveway the minute Rita pulled up with the blonde bombshell. I don’t know who she is, but he clearly didn’t want anything to do with her. The reason for picking me has to be because I was convenient. After last night’s peeping tom embarrassment, there’s no other explanation.

“I can easily get a date. In fact, I have them all the time. With woman who are fully satisfied when they leave the next morning.”

“Ew,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, are we going to playpretend like you don’t find me attractive, Ms. Holly? As if what you saw through your window last night didn’t give you sweet dreams.”

And there it is. The elephant in the car. I the embarrassment creeps into my face. I must be as red as a tomato as I avoid his stare.

“Fine, then. You can drop me back off at home then.”

“What? No, I can’t. I played my part. Now, you’re coming with me to be Santa.”

“I don’t even like kids. I’m not the right guy for this festive shindig you got. But thanks for the assist. Just turn left up here.”

His dismissal of my job grates my nerves. It might not be my dream, but it currently pays my bills. I need this favor, and as much as it pains me to humble myself to this arrogant asshat, I take a breath and do just that.

“Look, you’re right. It’s a terrible gig. The pay is shit compared to the headache you’ll receive from dozens of kids, but?—”

I stop to take a deep breath before humbling myself.

“I need this favor. Like worse than you need a fake girlfriend to fend off the hottie blonde and your grandma.”

When I look over at the cocky jerk, his face sobers.

“Fine,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and reluctantly agreeing to my absurd request.

“Oh, good, I’m glad you agree because I’m driving you there whether you like it or not,” I sass, trying to gain back my self respect.

“Not so fast. If I agree to this nightmare, you’re not getting off the hook that easily.”

My hopes crash land in the sour acid of my Christmas-cookie-filled stomach. I guess that’s what I get eating dessert for breakfast and making deals with the Grinch.

“What do you want?” I ask nervously.

“Dinner,” he says, staring at me again. I quickly turn away as I wait for him to make the punch line. A wise crack. Anything to fill the silence now filling my car.

“And other public outings as a couple. A fake couple,” Jenson quickly adds.

“Fine, but no fake kissing, and if you get to handsy, I’ll kick you in the dick.”

The cocky bustard has the audacity to laugh.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. If you change your mind, it’s your own fault. No fake kissing.”

I make a gagging noise at his comment.

“Anything else?” he laughs.

“Three dates of your choice for two nights as Santa.”

“That hardly seems fair for two nights of holly jolly hell.”

After pulling into the mall, I park and turn off the engine of my little red Kia. Jenson isn’t wrong. More than likely, it will be hell for him, and I’ll wager the money I talk the owner into paying him won’t make a difference. Still, I can’t help the sass the falls out of my mouth.

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