Page 1 of The Selkie Santa

CHAPTER 1

The month of April

“Harper, wake up! Damn it, woman, answer the door, I’ve got a present for you.”

Harper opened a bleary eye. “Fucking Wyatt,” she groaned, rolling the pillow round her ears.

But still, she could hear him, pounding on the door downstairs.

“Harper, babe. Pleassseee. Lemme make it up to you.”

Harper squeezed the pillow tighter around her head, but the banging continued. Wyatt would be drunk. Which would make the stupid selkie even less able to comprehend the three little words she’d told him months ago.

We. Are. Over.

What was there not to understand about that?

Since then, he’d pursued her relentlessly. With far more gusto come to think of it than when they were dating. Turning up at Sweet Clams café day and night. It didn’t help that she lived above her work, so when the boats were moored and he’d had hisfill at The Merry Troll tavern on the quay, he’d roll his way across the square and start hollering. Singing. Shouting. Crying.

A great big blubbering selkie on her freakin’ doorstep.

With a low curse, Harper gave up, threw back the bedclothes, stomped over to the window and yanked up the sash.

“Go away, Wyatt,” she hissed.

It had the opposite effect.

“Babe, babe, I love you,” Wyatt shouted, leering up at her. “Look what I got you.” He was holding something—no wait,twothings up in his big fist. They glittered and sparkled even in the semi-darkness.

Harper’s sleepy eyes tried to focus. “What are they?”

“Pretty shoes for my one true love.”

He waved them in the air. Harper squinted down into the street. Sure enough, they were a pair of exquisite strappy silver sandals, sparkling in the lights from the quay. Shoes a girl like her could only dream about. Shoes you’d go dancing the night away with the guy of your dreams.

Not Wyatt.

They must be worth an absolute fortune.

“Wyatt, where the hell did you get them?”

“Bought them at the poshest shoe shop in Motham.”

“Stole them, more like.”

“I didn’t, sweet-heart, promise.” He was lurching now across the sidewalk, dangling the shoes above his head. “The gods dropped them into my hands.”

“Which means you stole them,” Harper huffed crossly. She couldn’t possibly take stolen goods. But holy goddess, those sandals were divine.

“Go home.” She shooed with her hand. “And in the morning give them back to the person you stole them from. And let me go back to sleep.” She made to close the window.

Now Wyatt was singing, “I only have eyes for you,” reeling up and down on the sidewalk and stumbling over the curb. “What does a guy have to do to win you back? You’re harder than an oyster shell to fucking crack open.”

“Yeah well, ain’t no way you’re getting near my pearl. Go home. Or do you want me to call Noah and get him to remove you? Again.”

“Noah, Schmoah!” Wyatt sneered. “Yeah, that’s right call the golden boy. He’ll rescue you. Damsel in distress service Noah Shortwater at your service.” He made a mock bow, dropped one of the sandals in the dirty gutter. Harper winced. He was going to ruin the beautiful things. “Any excuse and you’ll call Noah. You always liked him better than me anyway.”

Harper huffed a sigh. True. she’d had a crush on Noah ever since he walked into Sweet Clams. In fact, it’s possible she’d even dated Wyatt because of Noah. Shocking though that was to admit, even to herself.

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