The crowd for Santa’s arrival wasn’t quite as large as those on the busiest shopping days of the year. But the idea of marching through throngs of shoppers and kids from one mall entry to the opposite end still sent unease slithering through her until it circled her throat, making breathing a solid chore, instead of an autonomic response.
As though sensing her tension, Cole leaned toward her. He tucked an errant strand of hair that had been plastered under her nose behind her ear. “You need a rubber band. Elves wear ponytails.”
“Oops, didn’t get that memo. You got one handy?”
Cole sent her a wolfish grin and patted where his pocket would be if he weren’t wearing drawstring felt shorts. “Sorry, left it in my jeans. Don’t you have one in your apron?”
She released her grip on the sleigh long enough to look in the patch-pocket of the crisp green apron. “Nope. Not a single rubber band or ribbon. Not even a shoestring to be had with these lovely shoes.” She regarded the ridiculous curl-toed slippers. At least the color matched the apron.
Stealing a glance at Cole’s legs, she admired how the tights outlined his muscular calves and strong thighs. She licked her lips. Jeez, even his knees were sexy. He’d laid his hand on one thigh, his pinky brushing her leg. His fingers were long and lean. A healing scratch marred the back of his hand. She’d been there when he’d gotten it, helping install the boxes he’d built under the windows of the cottage.
Finally, a distraction she would work with, instead of dealing with the thought of the gauntlet they were about to travel. “Hey, I meant to thank you for all your help this week. Without your pitching in, I wouldn’t have been ready for this day.”
“I enjoyed it. Normally I just walk into the mall and it’s magically Christmas all over. It was nice to see the process up close and personal.”
“You went way above in offering help, Cole. I appreciate it.”
He flashed her a smile that ought to be outlawed. “You can take me to dinner next week to thank me properly.”
Her world tipped, a small thrill raced through her. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re on.”
The sleigh jolted to a halt in front of the massive entry door. “Show time,” Cole proclaimed.
Blooming dread dammed her breath up in her throat, making her lungs ache.
Lavinia passed a red satin sack to Ivy, giving a second one to Cole. “Here you go, dear. Candy canes to pass out as we march along.”
She had to interact with the crowd? Shoot me now.
Clearly, it wasn’t Lavinia’s first rodeo. The woman had thought of everything. Cole took Lavinia’s hand and assisted her as she disembarked from the sleigh, then turned, offering a hand to Ivy. Clutching the bag in one hand, she laid her palm against Cole’s, marveling at the warmth. Once she was on solid ground again, he didn’t release her, but drew her to the side, out of Santa’s way. Roberta scurried over to them, black two-way radio clutched in one hand, a clipboard in the other. All she needed was a whistle and maybe a baseball cap to make her truly official looking.
“Everybody ready?” Roberta shrilled into the radio. Feedback whined through the speaker as someone replied, “Good to go!”
Cole led Ivy behind Chris and Lavinia. As Santa strolled into the shopping center, the high school students holding bass drums pummeled their instruments. Ivy felt every thunderous beat ricochet through her. Her heart thudded in time with the thump of the drum. Giddy dread careened along her nerve endings. Just beyond the barrier at the end of the corridor, security stood, holding back parents and their excited children. Every child and some of the adults jumped and jiggled in place. Ivy shuddered, closed her eyes, and wiped damp palms on the apron.
Cole wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her an encouraging squeeze.
The sea of faces stretched out in front of her, blurring in her tear-cloudy vision. “Don’t get too far away from me,” Ivy begged. God, she hated the nearly debilitating anxiety restricting her breathing.
“Hey, I’ve got you.” He drew her closer.
It shouldn’t have mattered, but his words calmed her racing heart. Ivy went up on her toes and brushed his cheek with a chaste kiss. It was nice, someone having her back in the face of the herd of people waiting for them.
Chris rubbed his hands, swathed in white knit gloves, together. “Ho, ho, ho!” he boomed. “Guess who’s coming to town?”
The waiting crowd roared with delight.
Chris wound Lavinia’s hand through the crook of his elbow and began his march to his holiday home.
“Here Comes Santa Claus” boomed off the shop windows. Kids screamed and yelled for Santa, waving wildly. Chris took it all in stride, marching along, waving back and tossing kisses in all directions. Lavinia beamed by his side.
Cole squeezed Ivy’s fingers and dragged her along with him. Bending his head low, he yelled in her ear. “Come on, Ivy. Time to toss the candy!”
With numb fingers, she dipped a hand into the scarlet bag she carried and shot a handful into the crowd, visualizing with each toss releasing her terror over the massive number of bodies surrounding her and Cole. It seemed to be working. They’d made it halfway through the mall and she hadn’t frozen up yet.
The band split into two sections as they passed the carrousel that had been set up just for the holidays. Cole lost his grip on Ivy’s hand. Panic rose and her step faltered. But he quickly found her again, gripping her elbow.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” But her jaw ached from clenching.
“Almost there. Once we hit the Santa display, the situation will be more controlled.” His voice was barely audible as he hollered, his warm breath bathing her skin.
Knowing he wouldn’t hear her over the noise, she nodded. Her heart stopped racing as violently and drawing breath became simpler. With his warm fingers around her hand, it was easy to be brave. Although still daunting, the fear she felt over the sheer mass of humanity relaxed its demanding grip somewhat.
She continued to hand out candy canes, offering one to a nearby kid, then tossing a couple toward the bystanders. She even managed a tight smile. But the broad, beaming grin on Cole’s face was an infectious work of art. Many people waved and smiled back. One little cherub in a pink coat darted away from her dad, trotted up to Cole, and wrapped her arms around his leg. He patted the girl’s head and urged her back to her father.
Ivy marveled at how at ease he was, how genuine and warm. His demeanor further calmed her nerves. Well, that and the constant quick touches he offered. A hand on her arm. The warm, reassuring pressure of his palm at the small of her back as they marched along. He seemed to have an innate sense as to when she was getting anxious, and would smile her direction, immediately easing her rising tension.
How did he know? Was he as magical in determining good and bad vibes as Santa was in figuring out who was naughty and who was nice?
And then they arrived at Santa’s workshop.
Ivy gave herself a moment to take in how wonderful everything had turned out with the set. It was the perfect holiday scene. Lights twinkled under the fake snow, giving a magical feel to the area. Iridescent snowflakes had been scattered over the tulle netting and cotton batting. Cheery, seven-foot-tall snowmen clustered in groups of two and three, lending a homey feel to the environment. The spicy scent of cinnamon filled the air, wafting from an aroma-therapy machine hidden behind Santa’s overstuffed green velvet chair. Overhead, curtains of lights shimmered and cascaded down like falling snow.
It was magic.
Roberta gripped Ivy’s arm. “Pay attention. Your job is to escort the kiddos to Santa. You let them in there,” she pointed to a white iron gate marked Entry, “and walk them up the ramp. Once you position them on Santa’s lap, you go back for the next rug rat. Make sure Santa has candy to give each kid. Oh, and the coloring books and crayons. You can give those to the parents.”
“Do the parents come in with the kids?” Ivy eyed
the line of patrons waiting for their chance to enter the set.
“Usually. But a lot of them want to stand back and take pictures. That’s not allowed. We’d like them to pay for a photo package.” Roberta opened one of the coloring books. “There’s a list of the various packages available.”
Forty bucks for a couple of Polaroid pictures seemed like a lot of money. In her heart, Ivy knew Chris would permit parents to take pictures with their own cameras, even if it was against the rules.
I hate my job played on repeat through her brain, but she nodded and slipped some coloring books into the apron pocket. “Got it.”
The band finished playing a rousing rendition of “Frosty the Snowman,” with the audience singing along.
Chris clapped his hands and laughed his own jolly sound, his pillow-padded belly jiggling just the way a Santa’s should. “Boys and girls, moms and dads. Welcome to Santa’s home away from the North Pole.”
Ivy inched to the gate, preparing to let the first little rug rat through.
The crowd erupted in an impromptu chant of Santa, Santa, Santa.
Cole moved to the ramp on the far side of the throne, ready to escort each child back to the parents and out the exit gate. Lifting his hand, he shot her thumbs-up and an irrepressible grin.
The sight of his even white teeth and solid, square jaw sent warmth coursing through her, pooling low in her belly. The erotic sense melted the tension gripping her shoulders, leaving her limbs loose and liquid. A different kind of tension spun up inside her, shortening her breath.
Pushing desire aside, she laid a hand on the gate, waiting for a nod from Chris. He and Lavinia basked in the moment in front of his chair, waving and pointing to individuals in the crowd, as if they knew everyone. Completely at home in the roles they played.
Chris nodded and winked at her, giving her a sign it was time to start Santa’s visits. While he took a seat on the oversized throne, Lavinia scurried to the counter where a high-tech digital camera, and a much lower-tech Polaroid were ready to capture memories.
With a sly grin, she aimed the camera at Ivy. “Smile, dear!”
Ivy reflexively pulled her lips upward, feeling her eyes crinkle. A bright flash left her blinking hard. She rubbed her hand over her brow, hoping to soothe the sting away.
“Let’s bring the first one in, please.” Chris beckoned.
And just like that, Santa had arrived and was ready to begin listening to the hopes and dreams and wish lists of the children waiting to see him.
The scene was beautiful, magical, even as Ivy delivered the first child to his lap. She’d survived and while she didn’t enjoy wading through the sea of humanity lining both sides of the path, she tolerated better than she thought possible. She gazed at Cole, standing at attention on the opposite side of the step, staring at her with open longing.
Maybe Santa rear-ending her had been a good thing after all. She’d spent the week working with Cole, and now, as a thank you, had a date with him.
Yeah. Not so bad after all.
Eight
So far, the holiday season appeared destined to be a busy one. In the few days since Santa’s arrival, Ivy had stayed busy fluffing and repairing the seasonal displays. At the tiny train depot, unruly teens had hopped the fence to snap pictures of themselves doing obscene things to the oversized, stuffed snowmen. Somehow, a cheerleader had jumped on the shoulders of the conductor snowman at the train display and toppled the poor guy, smashing the plastic carrot nose. The security guards had had their hands full filling out paperwork generated by the hooligans’ prank.
Ivy had worked for an hour, creating a papier-mâché replacement schnozz and resetting the fake snow and lights around the trampled area. She’d cursed under her breath the entire time, even while waving at the kids riding the toy train around the oval surrounding the scene.
A group of six mothers made small talk with her while she worked, and though she felt somewhat crowded with the fence holding them back, she hadn’t minded.
Because today was Tuesday, the day she and Cole had agreed on for their dinner date.
Butterflies had danced in her stomach all day, and by quitting time, had morphed into humming birds, their wings thrumming a million miles a minute under her heart.
Late in the day, Roberta had asked her to stay late to help handle a TV remote being broadcast from the Angel Tree, a charitable project they did yearly, providing gifts for underprivileged children. Ivy knew that some of the donated gifts made their way into the hands of kids from the Alpine Club. She’d helped in the past, but declined the job today with a promise to come in to work on Saturday to help wherever she could. She only hoped she wouldn’t be needed at the free giftwrap counter. Even this early in the season, a crowd always gathered, waiting to take advantage of the complimentary service.
The sun had sunk to the horizon by the time she’d sprinted to her car. Cold wind buffeted her cheeks and forehead. But the stiff breeze and the view of her crumpled bumper couldn’t freeze the smile tugging her lips.
She’d started her car and toggled on the switch for her heated seat. Before she could put it in gear, her phone pinged with an incoming text from Cole.
“Running late,” it read. “Meet me at the Alpine Club. The old one.” His message was followed by a string of emojis that looked like he could be talking about dinner.
She disregarded that for the moment, and texted him back, agreeing to the change of plans. Then she reversed out of her spot and drove off the property.
She didn’t have time for a shower, but freshened up, reapplied mascara, and changed into nice black slacks and a sweater. The marigold-yellow open weave top was one of her favorites, and even though it was Christmas, she’d faithfully stuck to colors that were not red and green.
Back in her car, she pondered Cole’s direction to meet at the homework hangout. She sat back against the seat while waiting for the car to warm a bit. Not the fancy restaurant she’d anticipated.
To her recollection, there wasn’t anything scheduled for the clubhouse on a Tuesday night. Most of the kids would have headed home by this hour. Bemused, she navigated through traffic to the location in a seedier part of town where children should never have to live.
A cheery blaze of lights through the sparkling clean windows surprised her. A large gathering of people milled about in the space. As she approached the front entrance, Ivy spied the rest of the board, along with other volunteers. But she didn’t see Cole among the crowd.
A blast of warm air and the excited hum of conversation hit her the second she opened the door and scooted inside. Kids chased each other around the room, shrieking and laughing as they played tag. To one side, seated around a long table were a group of senior citizens she didn’t recognize. A coat rack had been rolled over to the entrance, and Ivy shed her jacket and hung it next to Sylvie’s black wool coat with the fox fur collar, a relic of days when such a thing was acceptable.
“Ivy! You’re here.” Sylvie beckoned her over.
Scanning the room for signs of Cole, she moved to stand beside the president of the board. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Didn’t you get my email?” Sylvie asked.
She squashed the immediate annoyance that bloomed with the question. After all, not everyone was too crazy busy to not check email regularly. “Probably, but we’re in the middle of my busiest season, so I don’t check my inbox as often as I should.” She let her gaze drift around the room. Where was Cole? Had he gotten the email?
“The Board decided we should decorate for the holidays here, since we won’t be moving into the new place until two days before Christmas. We didn’t want the kids to miss the magic.”
The board? Or just Sylvie? Either way, it made sense. “So who are the grown-up kids over there?” Ivy nodded to the table of senior citizens.
“They’re from the Golden Agers Community Center. They’ll be regulars at the Alpine facility once it’s done. We wanted to get them involved now, so once
we relocate the kids to the new place, they’ll already be friends.”
“That’s a smart idea,” Ivy commented.
“It was Chris’s suggestion. And he volunteered you and Cole to help decorate for this party.”
Commotion kicked up across the room, and when the oversized door rolled upward, a cold blast of wind skewered Ivy.
Cole had backed his pickup truck into the loading bay, and the truck bed was filled with pine trees.
Ivy made her way over to where Cole stood in the gaping doorway, flanked by Chris and Lavinia.
His look was apologetic. “I couldn’t say no.”
The tangy scent of balsam wafted in the air around them. She shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Cole gripped her hands. “I’ll make it up to you.”
His fingers were warm, despite the cold air. His canvas jacket hung open, exposing a green and blue plaid flannel shirt over a dark gray thermal T-shirt. Black jeans clung to his lean hips and thighs. A beat up pair of what she suspected were steel-toe boots were the perfect complement to his attire.
The picture he presented tipped Ivy’s world upside down. “I’ll hold you to that.” Her voice was breathless and she cleared her throat.
Cole’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
The soft pressure of his mouth made her open hers in response. He swept his tongue around the rim of her lips as he gathered her close and wrapped his arms around her waist. The world melted away. Only the sensation of his mouth on hers, their breaths mingling, bodies touching, and the sensual tingle rebounding around her form remained. She lifted her hands along his chest, resting them on his shoulders, and flexed her fingers into the muscles there.
She heard the jolly laugh from Cole’s right side and ignored it. But when she felt the insistent tug on her sweater, she returned to her senses and reluctantly released her grip on his shoulders to take a step back.
The Santa Accident Page 5
