Page 29 of The Selkie Santa

“Well, if I didn’t, Toby sure did,” Harper said with an airy little laugh, wondering if one of Gran’s Minions had spotted Noah arrive at her cottage last night. Or worse, leave in the early hours—a time when she’d hoped the residents would all be tucked up in bed.

“Ah, yes, Toby is quite taken with him,” Gran said. “He keeps commenting about what a well-shaped tail he has.”

Harper didn’t say a thing, but her scalp prickled as she recalled what that well-shaped tail had done to her last night.

“I’m sure you told me once you had a selkie friend,” Gran commented.

“Did I?”

“Yes, about a year ago, you mentioned someone, a fisherman on the wharf, I think you said he was.”

Harper pretended she hadn’t heard. She couldn’t even remember telling Gran about Noah. Problem was, even as an octogenarian Gran seemed to have a better memory than Harper did.

“Did you find the Santa costume for him?”

“Yep.”

“I hope it doesn’t need too many alterations. Our last Santa was a minotaur. A little more on the portly side than your stud muffin selkie.”

“Gran, do you even know what that means?”

“A bit of Hot Stuff.” Gran did a little wiggle of her hips, and Harper couldn’t help giggling. “Toby fills me in onallthe lingo.” Gran peered at the documents in Harper’s hands. “Ah, I see you’ve got your lines there. Have you made a time to practice with Noah?”

Harper wished Gran would stop interrogating her. “Um, later today, I think we agreed.”

“He’ll need your help, with his dyslexia and all,” Eleanor mused. “I guess you’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the next couple of weeks, with rehearsing.”

Harper cast the elderly elf a glance, but Gran only smiled sweetly, eyes dancing behind today’s purple-winged glasses (she had a different pair for each day of the week), and tap-tapped off to talk to the office manager about ticket sales for the show.

Harper spent the rest of the morning working on adjusting the Santa pants. Her fingers trembled a little as she remembered how she’d peeled these same pants off Noah’s lean hips, what they’d done together afterward. It was incredible the way he pleasured her so perfectly, first time around, like he’d already done it in his imagination countless times. Well, why not? Hadn’t she?

But still, there was that niggle in the back of her mind. About Dina. She knew Noah well enough to sense when he was worried about something. But in all the time they’d been friends, he’d never hidden things from her or been evasive. Not until the whole Dina issue. If she asked him about his mom’s health or what Wyatt had gotten mixed up in, he’d always tell her. Confide in her, ask her advice.

And while she did believe him when he said Dina’s baby wasn’t his, she just knew there was more to this than he’d fessed up to.

She’d just finished the final dart in the Santa pants and put them on a hanger when there was a knock at the door.

Noah stood on the doorstep, a bunch of red hothouse roses, holly, and mistletoe in his hand.

Harper melted, and her doubts receded. “Hey, Noah.”

His big handsome smile told her everything she needed to know.

“I’m here for Santa practice,” he said, holding the bouquet over their heads. His eyes were so loving and open, how could she doubt him?

Harper took a step forward and, putting her arms round his neck, raised her face to his.

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” she murmured against his mouth before that thick selkie tongue slid between her lips and Harper almost forgot her own name.

They kissed for long moments on the doorstep and then he nuzzled her neck.

“I hoped the mistletoe would do the trick.”

“Like a charm.”

They stumbled, still kissing, into the small living area. Noah had hoisted her up and her legs were round his waist. Finally, she slid down his body, took the flowers and put them in a vase.

“I’ve finished taking in your pants,” she said as she put the vase on the table. “Want to try them on? Or have you got something else in mind?”

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