Page 2 of Santa's Coming

Rachel winks. “You’re looking very, very fuckable.”

I shake my head at them. “I’m not getting lucky if that’s what you’re both getting at.”

“You’re working out just because?” Sarah squints her eyes.

I laugh. “People work out for health benefits.”

“I keep hearing about these people. I didn’t know they existed.” Sarah smirks.

“I work out to look good naked.” Rachel smiles.

“We know too well how much you love to be naked.” I nudge her. “Please keep your clothes on this evening.”

“Good evening, High Fivers,” a man’s voice says through the speakers. “It’s time to take your photos with our very own Santa Claus.”

I look over at the photo booth and see a guy dressed as an elf with a microphone next to Santa.

All I want for Christmas is to be railed by Santa,I think, staring at the broad-shouldered, bearded, unbelievably good-looking man wearing a Santa suit. What a depraved thought. I laugh and sip my candy cane martini. I hadn’t set high hopes for the night, but at least I have a scandalous mental image to entertain me later.

Observing the look of lust in my eyes, Sarah elbows me. “Girl, it’s time you got back in the dating game. When was the last timeyou went out?” she teases, her smile carrying a playful hint of optimism.

“Seriously, Em, it’s been forever. Take some time for yourself,” Rachel adds, her eyes glinting with mischief.

I chuckle, attempting to deflect the conversation. “Come on, guys, you know I have no free time. The dating scene can wait.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Sure, but a little flirting with Santa won’t hurt. It’s the holidays! And girl’s night. Live a little.”

I sigh. “Twenty dollars to take a photo with Santa is obscene.”

“When Santa looks like the cover model for a Christmas romance novel, I think he’s worth every penny.” Rachel laughs, clinking our drinks.

“Seriously.” Sarah rubs her hands together. “I wouldn’t mind sitting on his lap … even for just one photo.”

We all laugh, finishing our first round.

“I’ll buy the next round and the photo with Santa if Emily straddles him,” Rachel insists.

“No! No way!” I shake my head.

“That would fill my heart of coal!” Sarah winks, punctuating the moment with an eye-roll-worthy pun.

I hesitate. He’s attractive, unlike the typical jolly old men dressing up as Santa. He’s buff, and there’s surely no belly hiding behind that jacket. He’s like a stripper cosplaying Santa more than anything. Sitting there, brooding … but why not? I’ll never see him again.

“Fine, fine, but let’s not make this a big deal,” I concede, trying to maintain a veneer of nonchalance while my heart quickens.

When was the last time I sat on a guy’s lap? A long time ago, that’s for sure.

My eyes widen at the sight of him as I approach the photo booth. Unlike the usual mall Santas with fake beards, this one has a perfectly shaped salt-and-pepper beard, exuding a sense of charm and sophistication.

“Go get on that naughty list, Em!” Rachel yells, and I cringe.

My initial intrigue immediately morphs into mortification.

As I approach, the twinkle in Santa’s amber eyes does little to ease my discomfort. Something about his face makes me think he likes the naughty list idea.

“What a festive elf,” he growls disarmingly.

He’s probably forty. I note the small crow’s feet around his eyes and sexy, sexy broad shoulders. A damn good-looking forty.

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