Page 50 of The Mistletoe Switch

Inwardly, I agree. I've already asked Josephine about the names for the reindeer, but she just shrugged and explained it's hard coming up with cutesy names for reindeer when you've had over a hundred of them in your life. And she refuses to lie about their names.

"You're right." I paste on my sweetest, most kid-friendly smile and speak in a gentle voice. "Those are names of the lucky reindeer who get to guide Santa's sleigh, but these reindeer are just the back-ups in case one of Santa's official reindeer can't fly on Christmas eve."

"I want to see Santa's 'ficial reindeers," an adorable little girl who's missing her two front teeth says.

"Santa's official reindeer are really busy." I kneel down to be on her level. She isn't the first kid to complain about this very same issue today and, honestly, I agree with her. If I had to sit on a stinky school bus to come out here, I'd want to see the real thing, thank you very much. I lean forward. "And…" I glance around like I'm about to reveal a secret. "They're really high maintenance. They've started refusing to participate in the petting zoo, even in the off-season. Unless they get extra carrots and apples, they won't even pull Santa's sleigh ."

"I hate carrots," one little boy shouts.

"My daddy says my mommy is high main'nence." A little girl nods sagely.

I'm losing them. I grab a bucket of reindeer food and a stack of little cups. "Who wants to feed the reindeer?"

"We want Santa's reindeer." The little girl's arms are crossed over her chest, the ball on her knit hat bobbing as she shakes her head.

"Me, too," another kid shouts.

Like a forest of dry pine needles catching fire, the chant spreads among the kids. "Santa's reindeer. Santa's reindeer."

Okay, this is new. The kids move toward me, shaking their fists and shouting. I back up toward the reindeer enclosure and feel a tug on my bucket.

I twist to see Frankincense's teeth clamped hard around the plastic lip of the bucket. I yank back, but he's got some serious bite grip, and he pulls back even harder.

Behind me, the kids quiet down as they catch sight of the battle going on.

I bend at the waist and dig my heels in. I will not lose to a reindeer in front of a bunch of six-year-olds. With all my might, I pull. "Come on, Frank, give it up."

And Frank does. He gets bored with the game and lets go.

The sudden release sends me toppling backward and the fifty-thousand pellets that had been in the bucket fall on me.

The kids burst into uproarious laughter as I lay there and wallow in my humiliation. The cold, dirty snow beneath me seeps into what seams or cuffs it can find.

Silence cuts through the laughter like a knife, and I wonder if I've passed out. Maybe I hit my head so hard I lost my hearing?

I open my eyes slowly and see Santa Claus bent over me, hand outstretched.

"You okay, Cherry?" he asks in a very familiar voice. I study the face and, yep, those Shaw eyes are also familiar. Of course, Xavier is here to witness my humiliation.

I close my eyes, wishing to be transported out of here, but when I open them, he's still looking down at me, his white beard, hair, and red hat doing nothing to make him less attractive, the kindness and the amusement in his eyes the most handsome part about him.

Before I can give him my hand, he grabs me by my armpits and hauls me to my feet. "Thank you," I whisper. I don't even want to think about how muddy I am.

"You okay?" he whispers back.

I nod and brush the reindeer pellets off me.

He helps, patting me down efficiently and quickly with his big white Santa gloves. He seems wholly unconcerned about getting them dirty.

"It's okay," I say. "I've got this."

He ignores me and keeps brushing until he's satisfied. Then he straightens and faces the kids, who are all still watching him with awed expressions.

"Ho, ho, ho." He opens his arms wide before resting them on his hips. "I hope you children are being good and not yelling at my favorite assistant."

Most of the kids lower their heads in shame, but a couple stare back at Santa in defiance.

"We want to see your reindeer, Santa," one kid shouts.

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