Page 36 of The Selkie Santa

Yeah, he was getting into this. He flexed his biceps. Strutted up and down to more catcalls.

And then out came Harper, in a different outfit, a little silver and gold thing with a puffed-up skirt, her hair still wet but her face cleared of the mascara streams.

Well, from here they were going to have to ad lib, because things had certainly not gone to plan.

Someone—Maeve, he was sure—sang out from the back of the hall, “Kiss the elf,” and suddenly everyone started to chant, “Kiss the elf, kiss the elf.”

Noah looked at Harper and popped his eyes at her.

“I think they may have an inkling about us,” she said. “So now they want evidence.”

Noah ginned. “Well, let’s make them work for it, shall we?”

Harper winked at him and turned to the audience, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes wildly.

“Oh no, I couldn’t kiss Santa. Especially now he’s lost his shirt.”

“Yes, you can!”

“No I can’t.”

“Oh, yes you can.”

“Oh, no I can’t.”

Noah stepped forward and grinned down at his beautiful elf, pursing his lips.

“Should I?” Harper asked the audience, hands on her hips now, waggling her eyebrows. “Surely, it’s not okay to kiss the boss?”

Suddenly, Biff barreled in from stage right, holding a step ladder and a sprig of mistletoe. They put the ladder down, stood on it and held the mistletoe over Harper and Noah’s heads.

And good gods, Biff was smiling. No, scratch that, Biff was grinning from one goblin ear to the other.

“Now they can kiss, right?” Biff shouted gleefully to the audience.

Everyone chanted, “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Okay, then, one little, teeny, weeny kiss. Just because it’s Christmas.” Harper laughed.

As Noah bent his head, Harper stood on tippytoes. He put his arms around her and lifted her up just high enough that her sweet lips could meet his in the perfect clinch.

The applause nearly brought the old theater roof down.

“Well, my dears, I have to say, last night’s performance was the most fun we’ve had at a Monsters of Mercy Christmas show ever.” Eleanor beamed at the assembled cast at the debrief the next day.

“Sorry about the Gift Gizmo machine,” Harper said. “I’m not sure what happened there.”

“I think things might have got a little overheated.” Gran smirked, her eyes darting between Harper and Noah. “Maybe it was the chemistry between Santa and his elf.”

“Oh, Gran!” Harper rolled her eyes.

Gran sailed on, “As for you Biff, that was, quite honestly, a stroke of genius.”

Biff grunted.

“Here are your pay checks.” Gran handed out the envelopes and the other members of the committee, sitting casually in a circle as they shared morning tea, all applauded.

“If you want to be our Santa next year, Noah,” Toby said, with a barely disguised lustful smirk, “I for one would welcome you.”

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