The Santa Accident

by Gemma Brocato

  Finally, she’d been knocked inside a store and remembered what she’d learned on a class field trip to a shopping mall. Find a worker behind a cash register and ask for help. It had taken an hour, but she and her aunt were finally reunited and she’d gotten such a scolding for wandering away.

  Since then, she’d shied away from situations where a lot of people congregated. Even attending church after the episode had been uncomfortable. And the one time she’d gone to a professional baseball game, she’d had a panic attack and had to leave before the opening pitch.

  “But there is so much good about Christmas.”

  “Cole, the wheels on that bus don’t go round and round anymore. You aren’t going to convert me. You should stop trying.”

  His piercing blue gaze delved into hers. He opened his mouth, but shut it without saying anything.

  The room fell silent again but the quiet was not as companionable as it had been. As though he wanted to fill the dead air between them, Cole began humming a different song, this one a mash up of two, no three, distinct songs. He had a fair amount of talent, and a great singing voice. He even pounded the nails securing the box with a syncopated rhythm.

  “You’re good at that,” Ivy commented. Even though the tunes were distinctly Christmas songs, she hadn’t hated his performance.

  “It’s something Chris taught me to do at a pretty early age. I used to stay at his house when my mom had bad days. Trying to fit songs together served as a great distraction.”

  Setting her brush aside, Ivy cocked her head. “Was your mom sick?”

  “No, just stupid.” There was a bitter edge in his voice. He set his hammer aside and studied the box, not making eye contact. “Mom made some bad decisions and landed in prison when I was seven. That’s when I went to live with Chris and Lavinia. Chris is Mom’s uncle, and my only relative.”

  “That’s rough. Chris seems like a great guy. Not a great driver, though.”

  Cole laughed as he scrubbed his palms together. “Running into you was his first accident ever. I bet he’s been driving for fifty years. He really is fine behind the wheel.” He tipped his head to look her direction. “And I’m kind of glad he did hit you.”

  “What? Why would you say that? I have a huge dent in my car.” She jammed her hands on her hips.

  “That came out wrong.” He handed a completed box to Ivy with an apologetic grin. “I meant because we met sooner than we might have.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know how to respond to his statement. But in her heart, she liked that he’d said it.

  “Have you worked at the Alpine for very long?” Cole questioned.

  “I started volunteering there right after I moved here to take this job. I worked at a similar club as a tutor while I was in college. I didn’t earn a lot of money, but it helped pay for incidentals. The kids can be terrors sometimes, but when they smile at you and thank you for help…well, that’s magic.” Warm satisfaction drifted through Ivy as she attached hanging hardware to the back of the box Cole had completed. She’d loved seeing light bulbs flare to life when a student glommed onto a concept.

  “After graduation, I moved here from Kansas. The first order of business was finding an apartment, and getting settled in this job. The second thing I did was to find the club and start working over the dinner hour. The blue-hairs liked me, and started heaping on the responsibility.” She laughed. “You have to be careful when you say yes to Sylvie. One day you’re a lowly tutor or kitchen attendant, the next day, you’re on the damn board of directors.”

  Setting the glue aside, Cole picked up a hammer. He pounded a nail into place. “She has a way about her, doesn’t she? I stopped at the club on Monday to get a key to the new building to take measurements, and the next thing I know, I’m helping her box up ten sets of old encyclopedias and hauling them to the recycling center.” He deposited the finished box on the table behind him.

  “That’s so Sylvie. She smiles politely as she asks you to help, but there’s this, I don’t know, like steely determination in her expression that practically forces you to accept the task. How long did she keep you?”

  “Two hours. I finally had to fib and tell her I had another appointment to get to.”

  The pile of his handiwork was growing. Ivy poured a cheery green paint into a fresh tray. She selected a brush and wiggled the bristles over the palm of her hand to loosen them up.

  “I’ve had to do that too. Your secret is safe with me.” Guilt laddered up her spine. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

  “You were my last stop of the day. And I like to help with this kind of project.”

  And she liked having his help, she mused as he began constructing another box. She slapped green paint over the wooden surface, inside and out. They were going to add a great dimension to the cottage, the way Cole seemed to be adding depth to her life.

  Six

  For the past week, Cole had found one reason or another to make a trip to the mall to ‘help’ Ivy finish decorating for the holidays. He’d even volunteered to help hang the massive wreaths from the ceiling. Those suckers were huge, a good two feet taller than him. They wobbled wildly off the front of a rented forklift when Ivy brought them to where he waited on a wide-platform scissor lift. She expertly transferred them from the forks to the steel rods on one end of the high lift. Then while she tooled back to a storeroom to get the next one, Cole and the maintenance guy, Daryl, would suspend the heavy décor from the bulkheads.

  He’d taken an instant dislike to Daryl. The dude kept sending skeevy glances Ivy’s direction, a look on his face like he was mentally undressing her and really enjoying the experience. At one point, Ivy had stretched up on her toes to help shove one wreath off the end of the lift, exposing her midriff when the hem of her long-sleeved white T-shirt pulled away from her jeans. Daryl had gripped his crotch and groaned at the sight of the visible expanse of creamy skin. Cole had just taken a menacing step toward the guy when Ivy had started talking about Daryl’s young daughter. Her easy conversation had distracted the maintenance guy and forced his attention elsewhere.

  The trick was so smoothly managed, Cole had to wonder if Ivy had had to use it in the past. Looking at Daryl, he’d guessed the answer would be a big fat yes.

  With Cole’s help, they’d finished all the decorations with a day to spare before Santa’s arrival. Ivy had worked tirelessly. He knew she arrived each morning before eight and stayed until midnight several nights. He knew this because he’d text her during the day then show up after finishing his job. They’d work side-by-side, hauling out decorations and creating a winter wonderland. Her dedication impressed him, and made him want to haul in a sleeping bag so she could grab a nap. The bluish circles under her eyes were a hint of how hard she worked.

  And while they labored on the decor, Cole relished each opportunity to touch her, to brush against her as they toiled to position the larger elements, like the whimsical, seven-feet-tall snowmen. Each time he touched her, pleasurable jolts of electricity whipped through him. At the soft sound of her indrawn breath, and the flaring of her eyes, he had to believe she felt it too.

  And that gave him hope, because she was fast becoming important to him.

  Now, the Saturday before Thanksgiving, Cole had come to help Chris get ready for the big show. Chris was in his element, rubbing his pillow-padded belly and practicing his ho-ho-hos when the mall’s marketing director scurried into the room to check on their readiness.

  “We all good to go here?” the harried woman inquired. “Show starts in twenty minutes.” She had a black walkie-talkie clutched in her hand. She grimaced as it squawked to life and a report of a shoplifter in a department store came across.

  “I’m ready, Roberta. But I’m supposed to have a couple of elves here to help this morning. They haven’t shown up yet,” Chris reported.

  Lavinia tangled her fingers together. “Who’s going to pass out candy to the kids while we march through the mall?”

&nb
sp; Cole tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with any other person in the room. Please don’t ask. Please don’t.

  Lavinia rested a hand on his arm. “Cole, you’ll put the costume on, won’t you?”

  He swallowed a groan. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d helped in a pinch. But this was Santa’s arrival. Outside of Christmas Eve, it was the single most prominent appearance. He hated the striped tights and the short green pants. Plus, the shoes always pinched his toes. But this was for the kids.

  The look on Lavinia’s face was so forlorn, he capitulated. “If I have to. But you still need a girl elf.” He eyed the marketing director.

  She held her hands out. “Oh, no. Not me. I have far too much on my plate on a day like this. Wait! I have an idea.” She brought the radio to her mouth and keyed the mic. “Anybody have a twenty on Ivy? We need her in Santa’s dressing room.”

  Suddenly, the idea of playing an elf opposite Ivy was much more appealing.

  Feedback screeched over the radio. “—on her way,” came the garbled message.

  Cole gathered his costume and retreated to the bathroom, where he struggled into the tights, grateful the felt pants hid almost everything revealed by the stretchy fabric. Looking in the mirror over the sink, he perched the red and white striped stocking cap on his head. He rolled his eyes. “Next year, I’m staying fifty miles away from this event. Never again.”

  The short trousers strained across his butt as he bent to retrieve the slippers he was supposed to wear. They’d be the last item he put on before beginning the march through the common area. They had to walk from one end to the other and his feet would be killing him before they made it halfway.

  When he rejoined the others, Ivy had arrived. A belligerent look marred her pretty face. It softened with amusement when she saw the get-up he wore.

  “Don’t you dare laugh.” He shook his finger at her. “We’re running late. You’d better get into your uniform.” He approached her and handed her the dress, apron, and thick red tights reserved for the female elves.

  “Nope,” she stated flatly, waving her hands in front of the bundle. “That’s not in my job description.”

  “Sure it is,” the marketing director said. She rolled her wrist in a come-on gesture. “Other duties as assigned?”

  “Roberta, no!” The look on Ivy’s face was just like the deer in the headlights he’d nearly run into two weeks ago.

  Roberta shot her weight to one hip and jammed her fists on her waist. “You’ll do this or you’ll look for another job. Now, chop chop!”

  Cole reviewed his own office staff. Maybe he could figure out a way to hire Ivy as a designer if she flat out refused and lost her job.

  “I’d like to chop you.” Ivy’s mutter was barely audible.

  But Cole heard it. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Please, Ivy? Do it for me? We can’t deprive the kids of the entire experience.” Yeah, he was shameless, throwing the kids out there like a pimp. Truth was, he wanted to see her dressed up and wanted to walk alongside Ivy, her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.

  She eyed him, like she’d love to turn his ass down. She tossed a side-eye glance toward her boss, who was tapping her toe like the floor was a snare drum. Chewing her lip, Ivy jerked the bundle from him. Without a word, but wearing a prodigious scowl, she pivoted away to march toward the bathroom he’d just vacated.

  The door slammed behind her, but not loud enough to mask her grumbling. Cole leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, waiting for her to reemerge so he could thank her.

  The marketing director beamed a tight smile at Chris and Lavinia. “Problem solved. I hope your staffing won’t be an issue this season. I’ll be waiting at the entrance. The sleigh and the fire truck are already at the back door of the maintenance shop. And the marching band is in place. See you soon, Santa.” She gave Chris an exaggerated wink.

  Her heels clacked on the polished cement as she exited.

  Chris and Lavinia put their heads together and whispered to each other. Cole had seen them do this every year they’d done the arrival gig. Chris pulled out a little black notebook tucked under his belt, and pointed to something written there.

  “No, Chris. He doesn’t belong on that list.” Lavinia shook her head, pulled a pen from the apron covering her red velvet dress, and scratched off some poor bastard’s name. Chris frowned. Must be the nice list. Chris hated removing anyone from that list.

  Oh God! Am I really buying into the lunacy?

  Cole hid a smile behind his fist, smothering a laugh with a cough. They took this event far too seriously and it was wearing off on him.

  Next to him, Ivy cracked open the door. “Roberta, I need some… Where did she go?”

  Cole faced her. “The marketing director? She went to the beginning of the route.”

  Behind her, the mirror reflected her smooth flesh where she hadn’t zipped up the outfit. The back gaped open, down past the small of her back. Cole’s body hardened at the sight of the creamy skin, the hot pink panties and the satin strap of her black bra.

  Squashing those thoughts, he offered. “Can I help?” The words came out more like a croak. He cleared his throat, a fist to his lips.

  Clutching the front of the dress against her chest didn’t obliterate the sight of her supple flesh or his intense longing to touch.

  She looked over his shoulder. “Um…maybe Lavinia…”

  Making a snap decision, Cole pushed past her into the bathroom. “She’s tied up with Chris looking over the nice list. You’re stuck with me.” The door swung shut, closing them in the small space together. It would be intimate if not for the fluorescent lights and graffiti inked on the bricks. Good news: he didn’t have to call the number on the wall for a good time. He had it right here.

  “Oh, jeez.” She pressed her back against the painted cinderblock wall. “I can manage after all.”

  “We’re behind schedule. Turn around and let me zip you up.”

  Ivy huffed out a breath. She spun around, giving him her back, and pointed her chin at the ground. Her hair fell forward, hiding her pink cheeks. “Just be quick.” She muttered under her breath about how much she hated her job.

  She jumped as Cole laid one hand on the small of her back, and dragged the reluctant zipper upward. The dips and hollows of her vertebrae were visible along her spine.

  “It’s a bit of a tight fit.” Delight chugged through Cole’s body with the tiny brush of his fingertips over her skin.

  She glared at him over her shoulder. “It’s not like the costume was custom made for me. Elves are meant to be smaller.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. Can you suck in your breath and hold it?”

  “What did I get myself into?” She did as he requested.

  Cole jerked the zipper past her waist, pulling it to the top of the neckline. “Done. You can breathe now.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She turned to face him, a hand resting on her stomach, her upper chest heaving. The fabric of the dress stretched tight across her full breasts.

  Cole found it hard to drag his gaze away from the sight. “Glorious.”

  “Huh? Dude!” She snapped her fingers, then tied the apron around her waist. “Let’s go. Chop chop.”

  “Right.” He glanced away, but the picture was seared into his brain. His inner seventeen-year-old wanted to motorboat her magnificent cleavage. He gestured to the slip-on shoes she’d left on the back of the toilet. “You want help with those.”

  Deep sigh. “Yeah.”

  She braced a hand on his shoulder while he stooped in front of her to slide the slippers onto her feet.

  The warmth of her palm seeped through the thin cotton peasant shirt. “At least they’re a good fit,” he noted.

  That earned him another grimace.

  Cole took her hand and led her out of the bathroom. He didn’t lace their fingers together, but God, he wanted to. Chris and Lavinia stopped what they were doing and beame
d at them.

  “You two are a perfect couple,” Lavinia cooed and clapped her hands in delight.

  “Hang on. Let me get my camera. I want a picture of you. Something you can show your grandkids.”

  “Chris—”

  Jolly old Saint Nick cut him off with a practiced ‘ho, ho, ho’. “No, no. I have a sixth sense about this kind of thing.”

  “God, I hate my job,” Ivy whispered as she jammed the provided stocking cap over her curls. “Let’s just get this over with. Even a crazy huge crowd trumps a matchmaking Santa.”

  Seven

  The cold breeze fluttered through Ivy’s hair, lifting the ends and tossing it around her head. A fire truck, its siren blaring, led the way as they paraded around the outside of the mall. The iron from the horses’ shoes clanged on the pavement. Chris, Lavinia, and Cole waved at people they passed. Little kids jumped and pointed, beaming smiles on their faces.

  Tension coiled in Ivy’s belly. She didn’t wave or smile, too terrified of navigating the crowd. If only she were more brave, more fearless. Her fingernails ached from the force of her grip on the leather-padded seat of the horse-drawn open sleigh. Her other fist clutched her hair in an attempt to defeat the lashing strands. The bench she and Cole sat on was uncomfortably narrow, forcing them to cuddle close together. The only warm spots on her body were where their thighs, hips, and shoulders touched. A shiver, not brought about by the cold, coursed through her. Cole’s proximity was the only thing keeping her from bolting from the carriage.

  Ivy’s ire with Roberta, for coercing her into the elf costume, hadn’t gone away. She’d get even with the woman. She was going to tell her boss that no way in hell was she working the day after Thanksgiving. If she survived her stint as an elf, she was going to demand combat pay. They’d have to hand out donuts to the merchants, an early morning Black Friday tradition, without her. Even the thought of the sheer number of shoppers on that day paralyzed her.

  The ringing of bells woven into the horse’s mane jangled like alarm bells in her brain. Danger, Will Robinson, danger!