Page 4 of Daddy Christmas

After I’d served the day’s final customer and locked up, I made my way over to Santa's Grotto. Even though my store was closed, the mall still buzzed with life around me—shoppers darting in and out of stores, kids laughing, someone yelling about a sale—but everything else blurred. My gaze stayed locked on the archway ahead.

It shimmered, catching the light from hundreds of twinkling bulbs threaded through it. Snowflakes—glittering, oversize, and impossibly perfect—hung suspended from the peak like they’d been plucked straight from a dream. A soft, golden glow spilled out from inside, pooling over the tiled floor and licking at my boots. It was magnetic. Almost... alive.

I swallowed hard, my heart beating too fast in my chest. What was I even doing here? This wasn’t normal. Peopledidn’t get invited to private visits with Santa by cryptic cards handed off by co-workers. Especially not fully-grown adults. But still, I couldn’t make myself leave. Something about this felt—important. Like if I walked away now, I’d miss something I wouldn’t get back.

"Just go," I whispered under my breath, forcing my legs to move forward.

The elf guarding the entrance noticed me immediately. His costume was ridiculous—bright green, striped tights, a floppy red hat. But his grin was sharp, mischievous, almost knowing as he looked at me. He took the card without a word, flipping it open like he’d done this exact thing a hundred times before.

"Gemma Star," he said, dragging out my name like it was some kind of secret joke. Then he winked. "We’ve been expecting you."

"Uh . . ." I blinked, unsure how to respond to that. "Great?"

"Come on in." He unhooked the velvet rope with a dramatic flourish, stepping aside to let me pass. "He’s waiting."

"Who’s—" I started, but before I could finish, he waved me forward, gesturing toward the glowing entrance.

"Go on," he said with a sly smile, like he knew something I didn’t. And maybe he did.

The moment I stepped through, the noise of the mall vanished. Just gone, like someone had flipped a switch. In its place came the faint tinkle of bells and a melody I couldn’t quite place—a music box, maybe, soft and haunting. The air shifted, too. Warmer. Richer. It smelled like cinnamon rolls, straight from the over, and fresh-cut cedar, earthy and sweet all at once.

My boots crunched softly on what looked like snow but felt more like crushed velvet underfoot. I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat.

It was . . . magical. There wasn’t another word for it.

Snow-dusted pines stretched up to a ceiling I couldn’t see, their branches twinkling with tiny lights. They formedan archway above, like walking through the night sky. Little cottages dotted the cobblestone path ahead, their windows glowing amber, the kind of warm that made you think of crackling fireplaces and mugs of hot cocoa. Somewhere deeper in, a bell tinkled faintly, joined by the soft hoot of an owl.

I struggled to understand how this place even worked. Were the cottages real? Was it some kind of virtual reality trick? However they’d achieved the effect, it really felt bigger on the inside than it did on the outside.

"Wow," I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. I felt ridiculous for being so awestruck, but it was like stepping into one of those storybooks I used to bury myself in as a kid. The ones where magic was real and happy endings weren’t just for other people.

I forced my legs to move, following the path. My fingers brushed the edge of one of the cottages as I passed, half expecting it to feel cold or fake. But the wood was solid and warm under my hand, the glow from the window spilling out onto my skin. Someone had put thought into this, every little detail. It didn’t feel like a mall attraction. It feltalive.

At the end of the path, the chair came into view.

"Chair" was putting it lightly. This thing looked like it had been carved by elves—or maybe gods. Reindeer leapt along the armrests, holly leaves winding through the intricate carvings. Gold trim caught the light, making the whole thing shimmer. It was massive, commanding, like something straight out of Narnia.

And sitting on it—well. That wasn’t Santa Claus.

Not the Santa Claus, I’d been expecting, anyway.

He wasn’t round or cheerful or any of the things I’d been taught to expect. No belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly here. Instead, he was tall, broad-shouldered, his crimson suit fitted perfectly to a body that could’ve belonged to a lumberjack—or aRoman god. His beard was short, neat, framing a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. And his eyes—God, his eyes. Green, bright as emeralds, glowing like they held their own light.

I froze halfway down the path, heat creeping up my neck. What the hell was this? Some kind of joke?

"Gemma." His voice reached me before anything else. Deep and smooth, like whiskey poured over ice. Warmth rolled through me, uninvited, pooling low in my stomach. He smiled—a slow, easy curve of his lips that made my knees wobble. "You’re here." No on had ever looked this happy to see me before.

"Uh." Brilliant response. My brain seemed to have short-circuited somewhere between his shoulders and his smile. "Hi?"

"Come closer," he said, his tone gentle but firm, like he was used to being obeyed. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. The movement made the fabric of his suit stretch over his chest, and I had to fight not to stare.

I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to move again. Each step felt heavier than the last, like the air around him had its own gravity, pulling me in. By the time I reached the base of the chair, my pulse was hammering in my ears. Up close, he was even more overwhelming—heat radiating off him, the scent of cedar and something darker, muskier, wrapping around me like a blanket.

"Are you—" My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, mortified. "Are you supposed to be Santa?"

"Gemma," he said, his voice low, steady. It ran through me like a slow, rolling wave, heat trailing in its wake. My name sounded different coming from him. Intimate. Like he’d practiced it, tasted it before saying it out loud. “IamSanta.”

I froze. His eyes locked onto mine, that twinkle of green pulling me in like quicksand. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, spilling onto my cheeks. I hated how obvious it was, but there was no hiding anything under his gaze. He lookedat me like he already knew me—like every secret I kept buried might as well have been written on a billboard.

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