“Oh.” Hunter glanced at Santa—this Nick Spini, who watched him with a disdainful sneer.
Shit. Was Hunter being selfish? Doing eight-hour shifts Saturday and Sunday for two weekends would give him money for presents for his mom, sister, and his new niece. He’d been hoping to find some other seasonal work during the week since Pinevale wasn’t big enough to warrant a full-time Santa’s Village, and with the tiny, ancient mall closing, there wasn’t enough demand for pictures with Santa for more than the two weekends.
Granted, he’d spent the majority of the last four days since he’d taken the Greyhound home playing video games and eating Doritos instead of job hunting, but he’d just wanted to not think about the mess of his life for a little while. The internship he’d just quit had expected twelve-hour days just like the other places, and he was burned-out.
Familiar acid flooded his belly. Before Hunter could explain that he needed to make money for working after more than a year of interning for “experience” and “connections” and to “get his foot in the door”—only to have said doors slammed in his face as soon as he tried to actually earn a living, Nick said, “Can we get this over with?”
Instead of calling him out for being a bag of dicks, John only laughed. “That’s the holiday spirit. Come on, Grinch. Time to grow that heart. I know you’re not used to being around people, but just think, What would Eric have said and done? Then do that.”
Nick huffed, and Hunter couldn’t tell if he was pissed or kind of laughing? Wondering who Eric was, Hunter grabbed his elf hat and followed Nick out of the storeroom after they stashed their stuff in an old staff locker. His eyes were drawn to how the red velvet stretched across Nick’s wide shoulders. He was a mountain of a man.
They made their way over the ugly brown brick floor, a weird cobblestone that was probably done in the seventies before there were accessibility laws. Half the stores had closed already, and although John had hung wreathes and garlands on the brown brick walls, Treeview Mall was clearly in its death throes.
It was windowless, low-ceilinged, and one story in a square horseshoe shape, like a time capsule of ugly seventies design. The handful of old men who spent hours a day in the tiny food court area with only two greasy food options—Roy’s Burgers or Donut Time—watched silently as they passed, paper coffee cups in front of them. The peppy strains of “All I Want for Christmas is You” played through the mall’s speakers, Mariah’s voice echoing on the cobblestones.
The women who worked in La Belle Style, the old-lady clothing store that was sticking it out to the mall’s bitter end, gathered in the doorway as they passed. “Hunter!” Mrs. Buckingham called. “Don’t you look adorable!”
He gave his mom’s friend a weak smile, cringing as he felt hundreds of eyes on him as they reached the line of families, restless kids exclaiming in excitement at seeing Santa. The kids squealed and cried, “Santa!” and Nick jolted before waving at them as if remembering he was Santa.
Tugging down his green jacket, Hunter felt like a bigger loser than usual as he followed in Nick’s wake. Hunter was five-eight, so not super short or anything, but he was a scrawny kid in comparison. He was blond and could barely grow a beard, and Nick was teeming with hair and muscles and manliness. Which was weird for Santa Claus, but he was working it, definitely catching the attention of the moms waiting in line in front of Santa’s Village.
Hunter supposed elves weren’t supposed to be manly, but the merry ding! of the golden bells on his shoes with each pinched step didn’t do anything for his self-esteem. Not that he was planning on picking up guys at the mall—he was hopeless in that department. Still, he felt as gangly as he had back in high school.
The village was an ancient gingerbread house sort of thing that had seen far better days, but John had strung it with tons of colored Christmas lights and garlands to cover how faded and decrepit the painted plywood was.
Nick settled himself on a wide bench. The line of people were roped off at the end of the fake candy path that wound through little snow-sprayed Christmas trees, so at least in the village there was a bit of breathing room. Hunter was surprised there was such a sizable crowd, but there wasn’t much to do in Pinevale.
He frowned at the bench. “No throne thingy?”
John shook his head. “The whole sitting-on-Santa’s-lap thing is inappropriate these days.” He pointed to the bench, which had a backrest. “This way the kid can sit beside Santa, and there’s room on both sides if siblings want to come up together.”
“No one’s sitting on my lap,” Nick growled.
Hunter rolled his eyes. “You realize you have to be nice to the kids, right?”
Nick only stared at him above his fake white beard. His eyes were a steely gray flecked with yellow, and it was really annoying how hot he still was even though he was apparently a dick.
John clapped his hands, putting on a big grin. “Okay, showtime!” As he led Hunter back down the path, he whispered, “Nick’s a grump, but his bark is worse than his bite.”
Hunter wanted to ask how John knew him, but there wasn’t time. “If you say so.”
“Trust me. Okay, you remember how it goes? I take the money from the parents, and you ask the kids their names and escort them to Santa.” He peered around. “Where’s our photographer… There she is.”
“Hey, guys!” Courtney Campbell joined them with a smile, her dark ponytail swishing and a big camera around her neck. She was in her forties and ran Pinevale’s little photography store. She wore jeans and a snowman sweater, and it didn’t seem fair that she didn’t have to dress up. “Hunter, didn’t expect to see you pulling on the candy-cane tights again.”
Well, I’m almost twenty-three, I can’t get a real job, I’m freeloading off my sister in TO, I have a shit-ton of student debt, I honestly hate working in an office, I’m still a virgin, and I have no clue what I want to do with my life, so why not make the humiliation complete by being a mall elf again?
He managed to smile. “Yeah. Me either.”
“Hunter’s doing me a favor,” John said. “I had to beg, but he agreed.”
Hunter gave him a grateful smile for the lie. “It’s no problem.”
John winked at him and turned to the line of people. “Sorry for the delay, folks! Rudolph got a flat!” The crowd laughed agreeably, and John murmured to Hunter, “Fa la la la la!”
Gah la la la la was more like it, but Hunter slapped on a smile, trying to choke down the worry about money and his future and what he’d do after the holidays. His mom would let him stay as long as he wanted, but what was he going to do? What did he even want to do?
He’d gotten an English lit degree because that’s what he was good at, and it was useless in the real world aside from ticking off the requirement of most companies to have a BA in something. He couldn’t even get an entry-level job, and he’d worked his ass off at those internships.
His gut twisted, pulse kicking up and his breath catching. Fuck, he just felt so out of control.
“It’s Santa!” a little girl squealed, jerking Hunter back to the present. His life was an aimless shit-show, but at least he had a job to do. He took a deep breath and pulled on his green elf hat, the white fuzzy brim already too hot on his forehead. No matter. Even with a grumpy, brawny, stupidly sexy Santa to put up with, he was going to be his best elf self. With bells on—literally.
Chapter Two
Sitting on the too-hard bench, Nick watched as Hunter reached to straighten his elf hat. His green jacket rode up, giving Nick an excellent view of his perky, rather spectacular ass. He was quite pretty, what with his golden hair wisping over his forehead, a round face and pink lips, freckles on his nose, and deep blue eyes. Too bad he was apparently one of those spoiled millennials who showed up late and only cared about money.
Hunter looked to be in his twenties and probably still lived at home. By his mid-twenties, Nick had been working full time for years and owned a truck and a house. It hadn’t been easy, and he’d
worked his way up, learning about forestry and eventually tree farming. He hadn’t expected anything on a silver platter. People of all ages these days seemed more entitled than ever, and Nick had no patience for any of it.
Well, Hunter wasn’t Nick’s business, or his problem. He was playing Santa for two days, and two days only. When the usual Santa had fallen that morning, John had called in a panic, and considering John and Desmond were Nick’s only friends, he’d given in. So this weekend he’d have to deal with people whether he liked it or not.
He thought of John’s instructions: What would Eric have said and done?
As Nick watched Hunter lead a little redheaded girl along the path toward him, he had to smile to himself, hearing Eric’s voice—low, with a mischievous hint to his Scottish brogue.
I’d say you’re being a miserable grouch and that you need to remove the stick from your ass, stat. That’s my professional medical opinion.
Of course Eric was gone, so what did he know? But no, he was right, and Nick made an effort to smile genuinely at the girl, who clung to Hunter’s hand. Maybe Nick’s smiling skills were rusty, since Hunter said to her, “It’s okay, Jessica. Santa’s really friendly, I promise.” He shot Nick a pointed look, eyebrows raised as if daring Nick to prove him wrong. Okay, perhaps there was a bit of sass there, not just eye-rolling millennial petulance.
Nick cleared his throat, pitching his voice a little higher and softer than usual, mimicking the way Eric had spoken to young children. “Hi there, Jessica. It’s wonderful to meet you. Do you want to sit down and tell me what you’d like for Christmas?”
As Jessica hesitantly told him about wanting a sled and some kind of doll that was probably the latest fad, Nick nodded and smiled and pretended he knew exactly what she was talking about. From the corner of his eye, he was aware of Hunter watching, and when Nick glanced at him while he and Jessica shifted for their picture, Hunter’s cheeks went red, and he hurried back down the candy path.
The picture was taken as Hunter brought up the next kid, and Nick smiled and nodded to the steady stream of children coming to sit with him. He also tried to ignore Eric in his head.
Admit it—the kids are adorable. You don’t hate this. Especially with the sexy elf eye candy.
Eric had always called him on his shit, and eight years after his death, his voice in Nick’s head was a familiar comfort. It wasn’t real, of course, and it wasn’t always there. But Eric would show up once in a while, usually when Nick needed a swift kick in the ass.
Yes, sometimes Daddy needs the spanking.
He snorted out loud, and Hunter, who had brought up another girl, glared and hissed, “What are you laughing at?” His fair cheeks flushed red, and when he had the girl seated, he tugged at the hem of his green jacket. Clearly, he was uncomfortable in the too-small costume, but he also seemed anxious and jittery in his own skin. Any traces of sass vanished, replaced by a flash of raw vulnerability.
Nick instinctively wanted to reassure him, but before he could, the little girl was providing detailed evidence of her being very, very good and deserving of soccer cleats and a princess dress with puffy sleeves she really, really wanted so, so much.
The stream of kids seemed unending, and Nick’s ass was numb and his entire body uncomfortably damp with sweat by the time John closed off the line and put up a sign saying they’d be back in half an hour. Nick’s cheeks actually hurt from all the smiling, and he couldn’t wait to take off the beard and hat.
While John grabbed them lunch, Nick and Hunter retreated to the storeroom. As soon as they were inside, Hunter rounded on him and snapped, “Seriously, could you stop laughing at me? I feel ridiculous enough already in this costume.”
Nick blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t.” He dropped his gaze over Hunter’s body. Yes, the costume was comical, but those lean legs were enticing in the tights, and the way the green jacket just skimmed the bulge of Hunter’s package… “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look.” He’d meant it to be reassuring, but it had come out decidedly flirty.
But Hunter rolled his eyes, his arms crossed tightly. “Yeah, right. Now you’re just messing with me.”
He bit back a surge of irritation. This was exactly why Nick spent most of his time with his trees and his dog. People were so much damn work. He clamped down on his urge to soothe. “If you say so.”
“I just…” Hunter clenched his jaw. “Forget it.” He swiped off his hat with attached ears, running a hand through his damp hair, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Jesus, it’s hot out there.”
“That we can agree on.” Nick tried to unfasten the long beard, which fit with a string around his head that hooked together at the side, but the hook seemed to be caught in his hat by his ear. He tugged, but it was no use. “Can you give me a hand?”
After a beat of silence, Hunter pointed to himself and asked, “Me?”
“I don’t see any other elves here.” He motioned to his ear. “The hook’s caught.”
“Oh. Right. Um…” Hunter neared as if he was afraid Nick would bite.
And goddamn if that didn’t rattle the cage of Nick’s inner dom.
Tentatively, Hunter tugged on the snag, his knuckles brushing the corner of Nick’s jaw. Nick watched from the corner of his eye as Hunter frowned and said, “It’s really tangled somehow.” He leaned closer, going up on his tip-toes, the bells on his shoes dinging softly. He wavered, and Nick took hold of Hunter’s waist with one hand to steady him.
Hunter sucked in a breath, a tremor rippling through the firm muscles under Nick’s palm. “These shoes are too tight,” he mumbled. “Hard to get my balance.”
“Take your time.” Nick spread his fingers, wondering what Hunter’s body would feel like naked.
Hunter stuck out the pink tip of his tongue as he concentrated on the hook. “There.” He lifted off the hat, and the beard mercifully came free as he stepped back and Nick let go of him.
The fake beard made his real hair itchy, and Nick rubbed at his face. “Thanks.” He unbuckled the thick black belt and dropped it to the concrete floor with a thud before stripping off his coat and padding. His white tank top stuck to his skin, and goosebumps spread over him in the chill of the room compared to the heat out in the mall. He tugged at the scooped neck of the cotton, tempted to peel it off, but he’d only have to put it back on damp.
When he looked up, a new shiver ran through him—one that had nothing to do with the temperature. Hunter was staring at Nick’s chest, his full lips parted, a shine glistening as if he’d just licked them. He jerked his gaze up to Nick’s, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Oh, um… You’re welcome.” He spun away with a decidedly guilty expression on his pretty face to go along with the lust.
Despite himself, Nick’s balls tingled, and as John opened the door, Nick found himself flushing as well even though nothing had happened. Hunter stared at his feet, and silence stretched out. Holding a bulging paper bag and cardboard cup holder, John looked between them with arched eyebrows.
“How are my Santa and elf holding up?”
They nodded and assured him they were great, and the three of them sat on overturned crates, John fortunately carrying the conversation as they ate, telling them all about the plans for Toys and Turkeys.
After Hunter excused himself to go to the washroom, Nick asked, “What’s his story?” before he could stop himself, barely even waiting for the door to shut. He huffed at himself in his mind. He did not have time to give a shit about anything but his harvest, and here he was in a Santa suit finding himself intrigued by a mall elf half his age.
John sucked cola through a straw. “Hunter’s a good kid. Single mother. His father took off when he was a baby, I think. His mom’s Pam Adams; she’s a nurse at County. Probably knew Eric, come to think of it. Hunter worked for me when he was in high school. Went to U of T and graduated last year, but I think he’s having trouble getting a job. Seems like he’s floundering.”
“Probably because this generation
expects trophies just for showing up.”
“Always the cynic.” John shook his head with a mix of exasperation and affection. “It’s not so easy for them, you know. Cost of living keeps going up, but salaries sure don’t. It was easier for our parents, harder for us, and harder still for them. There aren’t the jobs there used to be, at least not for decent money.”
“Fair point.” Nick popped a fry into his mouth, savoring the salty grease.
“I was reading about how new lawyers have to take the paralegal jobs because they can’t find anything else. I wouldn’t want to be starting work now, I tell you.” He motioned with a fry. “But you know, I’m glad at least it’s better for them coming out. Hunter did it when he was seventeen, which still wasn’t easy in Pinevale. Took courage. He’s always been high-strung, and he was pretty shy back then; I don’t think he had a lot of friends.”
“Really? With that face?” And that ass? Despite himself, Nick imagined the lovely smack his palm would make against that perky backside. Eric’s teasing voice filled his mind.
Well, you do think today’s youth needs more discipline.
John smiled slyly. “You like what you see, eh? I thought so.”
“What? No.” Nick scoffed. “He’s half my age.”
“And? As you can see, he’s all grown up now. Back then he was covered in zits. Very awkward. He’s still self-conscious, I think, despite looking like he does. Not that I would look.”
Nick laughed. “You’re married, not dead. I’m sure Des looks too.”
John chuckled. “Yep. Do you ever watch that Riverdale? Archie is much more attractive than he should be.”
“I’ve seen it listed on Netflix. I’ll check it out.”
“Netflix? So you mean you don’t just sit around out there in the woods brooding and writing poetry and other Byronic pursuits?”
Nick tossed his wadded-up napkin at him, trying not to smile. “Shut up.”
Gay Romance Holiday Collection Page 20
