Page 33 of Never Kiss a Krampus
“You directed. Criticized. Judged.”
“Observation is not judgment.”
“It’s exactly judgment.”
He didn’t argue, just studied the shop with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Better,” he said finally. “The balance is restored.”
The bell above the door jingled, and Mrs. Carmichael entered, stopping dead in her tracks.
“Oh my,” she breathed. “Noelle, it’s… magical.”
My chest swelled with pride. “Thank you. I had some help.”
She looked at Bastian, who was standing beside the tree as if he’d been there all his life. “Your consultant has an excellent eye.”
“He has many talents,” I said, and the look Bastian gave me made my face flush.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of customers. Each one who entered commented on the transformation of the shop, the way the new displays seemed to breathe life into every corner. Sales were good—better than yesterday, even. By lunchtime, I’d had to refill the cash register three times.
Bastian remained by the tree, a silent, imposing presence that had somehow become normal to me. He watched everything, his amber eyes missing nothing, but he didn’t interfere. He just observed, a living judgment in horned, furry form. Every time I glanced his way, I found him watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read, but there was definitely heat there.
Focus. Shop. Customers.Not the tall, dark, and horned male currently reorganizing my display shelves with meticulous precision.
Shortly after noon, the shop door burst open and Jenna, my best friend and owner of the town’s only bookstore, rushed in. She looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel, her dark hair escaping its usually tidy bun and her cheeks flushed from the cold.
“You will not believe what’s happening,” she said, ignoring Bastian entirely, which was a testament to how distracted she was. “Main Street is buzzing. Everyone’s talking about your ‘marketing consultant.’”
“I told you I’m trying something new. It’s just until Christmas.” And why was that starting to bother me so much.
“He’s amazing, Noelle. The kids are calling him the Alpine Avenger. Someone started a hashtag. #KrampusOnMain.”
I winced. “Oh, dear God.”
“He’s bringing in business,” Jenna said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve had more people in my shop this morning asking about the ‘demon guy’ than I’ve had all week. I sold three books on Alpine folklore. Three!”
“It’s a costume,” I said weakly.
“Best costume I’ve ever seen.” Jenna finally turned her attention to Bastian, giving him a slow, deliberate once-over. “I’m Jenna. Noelle’s long-suffering friend and business consultant.”
“The one who advised her to invest in a ‘social media presence’?” he asked, and there was no mistaking the contempt in his tone.
Jenna’s eyebrows shot up. “She told you about that?”
“I am aware of many things,” he said. “Including that your advice led to a number of poorly lit photographs and a series of posts that garnered exactly seventeen likes, ten of which were from her own family.”
Jenna stared at him, then at me, and then burst out laughing. “Oh, I like him. He’s brutally honest. It’s a refreshing change from all this.” She waved a hand around the shop. “All the cheerful, relentless optimism.”
“It’s not relentless,” I protested. “It’s… consistent.”
“You’re drowning in tinsel and denial,” she said, then her expression softened. “I heard about Grinchly. I’m so sorry, Noelle.”
“It’s fine.” The lie felt heavy on my tongue. “I’m handling it.”
“No, you’re not,” Bastian said simultaneously. “She is actively avoiding the problem in favor of rearranging glitter.”
Jenna looked from him to me and back again. “Okay. This is going to be an interesting two weeks.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered. “He has… very strong opinions about inventory management.”
