Page 11 of Santa Daddy, I'm Not the One

Dix seemed pleased. “Santa had his personal chef create your meals. He’ll be glad to know you like it.”

I bit my tongue before I betrayed myself and asked what Santa did all day, since he never visited. The flavors bursting on my tongue were a welcome distraction from my thoughts of the jacked Santa Daddy and the naughty dream I’d had. One where I sat on his lap and whispered into his ear exactly what flavor candy cane I wanted for Christmas.

It wasn’t peppermint.

The soup was a perfect blend of nuttiness and warmth, the sandwiches a delightful mix of savory and sweet. The salad was refreshingly crisp, and the cookies were so delicious I had to stop myself from devouring them all in one go.

“No more.” I pushed away from the table, even as I bit into another cookie. “I don’t want to see food for another week.”

Dix chuckled as he cleared the dishes. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be so bad. You could like it here. I mean, there are humans in the village who chose to stay after coming here with the Yuletide Crossing. I’m guessing you don’t want to play a board game, so I’ll run this back to the kitchen.”

Humans? Did he just say that humans were in the village?

“Actually, I’d love to play a board game,” I said quickly.

He widened his eyes. “You would?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Santa picks out every game, and I hate disappointing him by telling him you haven’t touched them.”

“He picked out the games?”

“Yes.” He ran over to the pile of games and selected a large box. “I have to report to him every day how you’re doing.”

Warmth suffused me, and the heat spread to my cheeks. My stomach flipped.

“Why doesn’t he come himself to see how I’m doing?” I asked. “He’s just pretending that he cares.”

“That’s not it at all. Santa’s busy. We’re behind with the gifts for the children this year.”

He brought the board game over to the table and unboxed it.

“You mean you don’t spend all year making toys?”

“We usually take a couple of months off after Christmas, but the children’s demands grow every year. Plus, Santa’s been feeling a bit off.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess you can say he’s lonely. It’s been a while since he…” Dix clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

Instead of pushing him, I pointed at the game. “So tell me about this part of your hospitality package for kidnapped guests.”

Dix’s ears turned a shade pinker. “I… I really didn’t mean to kidnap you. You have to understand. Everyone who has been here is a believer. We didn’t know what to do, and now it’s too late to bring you back.”

I sighed. “It’s already done. So what’s this game called? And how do you play?”

“It’s Mistletoe Mysteries.”

Dix set up the game, explaining the rules with an enthusiasm that was almost infectious. Along with a deck of mystery cards, a set of puzzle pieces, a sand timer, and a Christmas spirit meter, the game had a detailed map of the North Pole and a town called Twinkle Glen.

“This map,” I said casually as we moved our elf pieces around, “is pretty detailed.”

“It should be. Santa made it a replica of the North Pole and the village. Every child gets one at some point in their life.”

“I see.” Except I had never received the game. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I wasn’t a kid anymore. No reason I should still let being left out bother me.

“There’s a village then?” I asked.

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