Page 15 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

It was as the door banged shut that I remembered I hadn’t asked his name.

I couldn’t eat a meal and maybe have sex with… a Santa.

Could I?

Chapter 12

Santa

I had a date. A date with the sexy organizer. A date with the man I couldn’t get out of my head even though I barely knew more than his name.

We were only having dinner at his place, nothing too big or fancy. Still, I was both excited and nervous about it. What should I wear? Should I bring anything? When should I arrive?

As far as clothing went, obviously, my Santa suit wasn’t the way to go. It was my favorite outfit and I wore a version of it most days of the week, but for this? For this it didn’t feel quite right. Heck, he didn’t even know I was the real Santa yet. He’d think it was weird or possibly an indication that I wasn’t as in tune with reality as he’d want.

I really wanted to tell him who I was. No,wantwasn’t the correct word—it was like a compulsion… like it was beyond important… like he needed to know that I was Santa and not just a guy dressed in a suit.

As much as I already longed to be back in the same space as he was, I didn’t want to get to his place too early. He’d had as long aday as I did and had an equally challenging day yesterday. He’d probably want a little time to decompress, possibly a shower. That didn’t change the fact that I was also anxious to get there, to be by his side.

I blinked and twitched my nose home, digging around for some of my typical human clothes. I didn’t have a lot of them. I didn’t spend much time down where I’d even use them, and usually, when I did travel, I was in my Santa garb.

First thing I did was take off the glamour of my beard and hair. Now I just looked like me—not the image everyone had of Santa, the one where I was a fat old man whose belly jiggled when I laughed. Dario had been flirting with me, despite my age, but still, this was better.

I twirled around in front of the mirror and liked what I saw. The jeans I’d put on hugged my ass to perfection, and the shirt showed off my shoulder muscles. I was ready to go. But not yet. He deserved some alone time. It was so much easier said than done.

Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and traveled the long distance to his place. He’d been so careful to make sure I knew how to get there, having no idea that as soon as I saw him, his location was in my head.

Another quirk of being Santa—every single person I met, I instantly knew where they lived. That was just how it was. It sounded creepy, but it was practical more than anything else.

When I reached up and knocked at the door, a little bark from the other side told me Dario had a roommate—and my favorite kind.

He opened the door, and I was greeted by a cold nose that managed to find the one spot where my socks and pants didn’t meet, followed by a lick.

“Well, hello there. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Dario.” I looked up to see if he was serious. He wasn’t—he was trying to contain his laughter. “That’s Max. Seems to me, he likes you.”

“Well, that’s good, because I like him too.”

I stepped inside. The house already smelled delicious—some kind of sauce, if I had to guess, with lots of garlic. My favorite.

“You look so different—not like Santa. Speaking of Santa, what should I call you? I can’t keep saying Santa this and Santa that.”

He could, but not until I told him everything, so I gave him my human name, Chris. His hand reached up like he was going to touch me, but then he stopped.

“Sorry about the appearance shift. For work—you know how kids are—they expect me to be old.” I shrugged, then knelt down to pet the dog.

“Well, I think you look good.”

I glanced up at him.

“You look good, too.” I wasn’t good at the flirting thing, but he didn’t seem to mind, smiling at my compliment.

“I made something quick. It’s nothing fancy, just some pasta with a homemade cream sauce and some leftover rotisserie chicken in it.”

“Sounds delicious.”

He sat me at the table and brought out two plates of food, and they looked as amazing as they smelled. We ate, our dinner conversation mostly about the day we’d just had. Max spent the entire time sitting by my ankle, ever the optimist that I’d drop something.

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