Into Santa: A Secret Billionaire Christmas Romance

by Barnes, Becca

“Doing okay. But, um, I seem to be back on Crainfield’s payroll.”

  “What in heaven’s name?” Kathy began clicking away on her keyboard, and I braced myself for the, “There we go. Problem solved. You’re back to destitute.”

  Instead, she said, “Hmmmm.”

  Was that a good hmmm or a bad hmmm?

  “Well, you got paid,” she finally said.

  “I know. But I didn’t work.” And hadn’t worked for Crainfield in six months. “It’s a glitch or a mistake or something.”

  “Yes, obviously. I’ll get it fixed in the system for January.”

  “Okay. But what about this payment? For December? And the bonus.”

  “The way it was set up and authorized, it’s honestly going to be a bigger pain than it’s worth to undo it. Just keep it.”

  “Just keep it?”

  “Yep. I’m up to my eyeballs in last-minute, end-of-year stuff, hon. You’ll be doing me a favor to let it slide. Happy holidays.”

  Click.

  I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t normally one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially a gift horse that was so badly needed. But there was something jarring about the fact that this sum of money that made the world of difference to me was nothing but an overlookable glitch at Crainfield Industries. It wouldn’t even be missed. An amount of cash that would save my ass and keep me stable for the foreseeable future was an annoyance to HR.

  I wondered how far up the chain poor Kathy would have to go to get the mistake rectified. Maybe all the way to Nathaniel Crainfield himself, not that I’d ever met the jerk. Between being nothing more than a coding peon and working out of a home office, I’d managed to escape every company function in which he’d been in attendance. Not that I needed to meet him to know exactly what the man would be like. Arrogant, pompous billionaire.

  But the unexpected paycheck brought back my quandary of what to do about Annie’s vow renewal. I knew I should come clean and tell her the truth. I’d made up Mr. Wonderful. Well, not really, but it was complicated. On the other hand, maybe this serendipitous cash was a sign that I was, indeed, supposed to ask Mr. Wonderful to go with me.

  Buzz.

  Speaking of Mr. Wonderful. A text from him popped up:

  “Pick you up at the same time this afternoon for our shift?”

  “My car’s actually done. Going to get it in an hour.”

  His typing bubbles went on forever, then:

  “Soooooo...Pick you up at the same time this afternoon?” With a winky face.

  Champagne bubbles of fizzy happiness floated through me as I typed, “Ok. See you then.”

  Forget the vow renewal. I was ready to ask this guy to put his babies in me.

  * * *

  Work flew by the next few days. It was funny, even when I found out that I had been paid by Crainfield, I didn’t for one minute consider calling in and quitting the elf gig. Part of it was fear that the unexpected money was too good to be true. But (and I would kill anyone if they knew I’d admitted this) I kind of liked my job as Santa’s little helper.

  It wasn’t just Nate. He was a lovely perk, yes. But I enjoyed talking to the kids. And watching their faces light up as they talked to Santa was nothing short of magical. Nate was a dang good Santa.

  He’d listen and listen to them as they talked about everything from what toys they wanted to what kind of pets they had at home. One kid claimed to have a real, live dragon, and Nate just nodded solemnly in agreement that they were hard animals to take care of.

  Some of the tales were heart-wrenching. We had more than one kid ask if Santa could bring their dad home from jail. And one girl asked for her older sister to come back after she had run away two months before.

  But even with those, Nate was calm and comforting. He didn’t turn from their pain or try to brush it away as if it didn’t exist.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said. “It sounds like it’s been really hard for you.”

  “You’re really good with them,” I said on the way home one night. “With the kids, I mean.”

  “I’ve done this year after year. Some of them, I’ve watched grow up before my eyes. My little sister is single. I don’t have any nieces or nephews to dote on.” He shrugged.

  I thought of my own nephews when he said it. They were a good part of the reason that I’d taken this job in the first place. Technically, I’d had enough still tucked away to eek by to the start of the year, but I wanted to arrive at their house with the usual assortment of completely non-practical gifts that my sister wouldn’t buy them.

  “Well, but you don’t really get to dote on the kids who come to see Santa, do you?” I said.

  “Oh. Well, I meant, I do what I can. I guess listening to them is sometimes the biggest gift I can give. After my parents died, my Nana was good at that, listening. She didn’t try to fix my pain or erase the loss. She just . . . listened.”

  “Your Nana sounds awesome.”

  “She is.” He reached over and took my hand in his. His forehead crinkled slightly as if he had come to a conclusion that had been weighing on him. “You remind me of her, actually.”

  “I get that all the time.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s the octogenarian part, isn’t it?”

  “No.” He let out his own chuckle. “It’s the part that’s fiercely independent and yet fiercely loyal at the same time. Every time you talk about your friends and your family, it could be my Nana’s words coming out of your mouth.”

  “So not the support hose?”

  “Definitely not the support hose.” He waggled his eyebrows at the striped stockings I still wore. I hadn’t bothered to change out of the elf get-up since he was taking me straight home.

  “And, yes,” he added, “I realize how bizarre it must sound to make that comparison a couple days after experiencing the best damn kiss of my life with you.”

  “That was the best kiss of your life? Under the stars?” Unbelievable. I mean, holy smokes, the kiss had been unbelievable. Obviously, the best kiss of my life. But equally high on the list of improbabilities was the fact that it had been the best of his life. Look at the man.

  “What?” he said.

  “Nothing. I just—”

  “Right then.” He flicked on his turn signal with a resolute nod and pulled his truck over then and there into a nearly empty grocery store parking lot.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Challenge accepted,” he said.

  “What challenge would that be?”

  “Since that kiss last night was apparently nothing to write home about, we need to fix that.”

  “That’s not what I meant. It was—”

  “Nuh unh. You’re just saying that.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the bar under the bench seat of the truck, pushing it all the way back. Then he pointed at my buckle. “You might want to unhook. I’m going to need room to maneuver.”

  “You don’t have to—” I couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Oh, I do. It’s a matter of pride now.”

  “It was the best kiss of my life.” I held my hands up in surrender. “I promise.”

  “Good to know.” He didn’t pause in his advance toward me. “The operative word there being was.”

  He started slow--achingly, searingly slow. Gathering the sides of my face in his cupped hands, he brought my lips to meet his, but held back a millimeter. He stayed there unmoving--teasing me, taunting me, tasting the breath I exhaled.

  When I couldn’t take anymore of the prelude, I ventured a little lunge at him, but he made a tsking sound and placed his strong hands firmly against my hips, planting them down on the seat even as I made a soft groan of protest.

  At least he showed mercy and finally pressed his lips fully to mine, ending the unmet provocation. And thus began a conversation with no words, our bodies asking the questions and giving the answers in turn.

  But then the balance shifted once more, and I could tell Nate was done with questions. With every
movement, every brush of his skin to mine, he made a bold statement. There was no hesitance. No asking. He knew exactly what would bring me pleasure, and his body was going to tell mine what that pleasure could be, in no uncertain terms.

  The tips of his fingers curled into my haunches, lifting me to his lap to straddle him. As he drew his hands up my sides, the shiver that built within me was like the soft thrum of a guitar, perfectly tuned. He smiled against my mouth, and I could tell it was the exact response he’d intended. But he’d only begun to play his melody.

  Nate pressed his foot into the floorboard as he hardened under me. There was just so much of him. I sank into him, every sensitive spot on me singing.

  Each small noise that escaped me, from the smallest sigh to a high-pitched squeak, only served to further his mission. He slipped his hand under the elf skirt and was making me reconsider some of the finer points of the spanky pants when…

  Tap tap tap

  Someone knocked on the driver’s side door. I sprang off of his lap, knocking my head on the ceiling of the truck, and only then noticed the flashing blue lights that surrounded us. Nate placed a reassuring hand on my leg as he rolled down the steamed-up window.

  “Good evening,” said the officer. “We had a report of loitering in the parking lot and I wanted to check out what business you have here.”

  I tugged down my skirt, and when the policeman saw the striped stockings and then took in Nate’s disheveled half-Santa costume, he raised one eyebrow.

  “Sorry about that, sir,” said Nate, a grin tugging the corner of his mouth. “We’ll be happy to move along.”

  “I’ll need to see a copy of your license and registration first,” said the policeman.

  “Sure thing.” Nate tugged his wallet out and handed the license to the cop. Then he reached for the glove compartment to pull out the vehicle’s registration. While he was flipping through the papers, though, the cop took a cursory look at the license and handed it back immediately, like it was a hot potato.

  “Actually, no need to find the registration,” he said.

  “Oh.” Nate’s smile faded as he tucked his license away. “Okay. Thanks. Will that be all then?”

  The policeman hesitated, then glanced at me.

  “Actually, I’d like to have a word with your friend,” he said.

  “Me?” I smoothed my sweater down in a vain attempt to look more presentable.

  “If you wouldn’t mind.” He gestured for me to exit the truck.

  “Umm, all right.” I looked over at Nate. The flush in his cheeks from our kiss had faded. He looked downright pale.

  The officer met me at the back of the truck.

  “How are you doing tonight?” he asked.

  “Fine.” A lot better before he’d interrupted our festivities.

  “I just wanted to make sure”--he shot a worried glance up at the cab—”that you’re not being pressured or coerced right now by your gentleman friend there. If you are, we can get in my cruiser right now, and I’ll see you safely home.”

  “Ohh. No, I’m fine.” When I realized the implications of what he was asking, it made me so sad for all the women who couldn’t answer that question truthfully or without fear. “Actually, Officer, I’m better than fine.”

  If you didn’t count the fact that my legs felt like jelly and parts of me were still tingling in want of Nate’s touch.

  I lowered my voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “I really like my gentleman friend. A lot.”

  “Glad to hear it.” The policeman walked me back to the front of the truck and gave the hood a pat. “Drive safely, you two.”

  Nate clutched the steering wheel in two tight fists and gave the policeman a curt nod.

  “Well, that was a first.” I said after Nate started the truck back up. I brushed my index finger along his knuckles, and they loosened in response.

  “Are you okay?” He scanned my face nervously.

  “Yeah. He wanted to make sure that I wasn’t in an unsafe situation. Just doing his job.”

  “I’m thankful for that. But you’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yep.”

  The rest of the drive home was quiet, but it was a peaceful quiet. Not forced or uncomfortable. Nate laid his hand down on the seat between us. I took it in my own, rubbing my thumb over the center of his palm.

  Right as he pulled into my driveway, I worked up the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on me like a cinder block for days.

  “So I had something that I wanted to ask you, but before I do, I want you to know that there’s absolutely no pressure, and I realize that it may be a little fast, so really, truly don’t feel bad if your answer is, ‘no,’ because I totally understand if it is. No hard feelings, I promise. But would you maybe like to go with me to—”

  “Yes,” said Nate.

  “I didn’t say what it is.”

  “Is it an activity with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, yes.”

  “But—”

  “Jen?”

  “Yes?”

  “The answer is, ‘yes.’ But by all means, tell me where we’re going. Just out of curiosity.”

  “My best friend’s vow renewal ceremony on Amelia Island next Tuesday.”

  “What a coincidence. That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”

  “You’re such a liar.”

  “A liar who is very much looking forward to spending some time with you on Amelia Island.” He placed a single kiss, soft and gentle, on my lips, and it felt like he was planting a seed of something to come.

  Seven

  The drive to the beach flew by.

  Well, not exactly true. Annie called me in tears before Nate and I were even out of Atlanta because the caterer had let her know that they’d had to switch the menu from pork loin to beef tenderloin. I assured her that she was this exact same level of emotional wreck before her wedding, and that calmed her down.

  As soon as I was off the phone with her, though, my sister Maggie called because my nephew Jack wanted to tell me all about his loose tooth. (Spoiler alert: it was loose.) Then Maggie broke it to me that their family was going to go skiing in Colorado with her in-laws for Christmas.

  “But Mom and Dad are going on their cruise then,” I said.

  “I know.” She sounded miserable. “Matt’s parents surprised us with the trip as an anniversary gift. Do you think you can watch Luna?”

  “Sure.” I tried not to sound too letdown, but this meant I’d be spending the holiday alone. Well, alone with two dogs.

  When I hung up, Nate said, “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” I twirled a thread from my jeans around my pinkie. “Tell me the plot to a movie I haven’t seen.”

  “What?”

  “A movie plot. For something I haven’t watched. It’s a road trip game I used to play.”

  “Okay. So there’s this plane and it’s full of snakes.”

  “Maybe not Snakes on a Plane. I was thinking more like…”

  “Have you seen Goodfellas?”

  “No. That sounds like a nice one.”

  It wasn’t a nice movie. At all.

  But it was wonderful listening to Nate’s voice.

  We went back and forth that way, describing our favorite films in lush detail. By the time we reached the island, I felt like I’d seen every mafia movie ever made.

  And, Nate, well...

  “But why would she have ever even considered Wickham over Darcy?” he said as we pulled into the parking lot. “That doesn’t even compute.”

  “Don’t get me started.”

  When we arrived at the hotel, I walked into the lobby ahead of Nate as he parked the car, muttering a silent prayer that my card wouldn’t be declined. I wasn’t technically late on the payments, but it had been a juggling game with the unexpected tire expense and paying off my medical bills.

  “Hi,” I said to the front desk worker, an older gentleman with a bald
head and a thick black beard. I always wondered how that worked--how his scalp could just be like, I’m done. And his face replied, never!

  “How may I help you?” he asked.

  “I have a reservation for two rooms,” I said, forcing myself to focus as I handed over my credit card. “Both under Jen Wallace.”

  “Just a moment.” He tapped on his keyboard for what seemed like forever as I noticed Nate walk in the revolving door in my peripheral vision.

  The man’s forehead crinkled, and he slowed down his typing, then sped back up.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked. Crap. I knew I should have double-checked my online statement before I left.

  “Nooo,” he said slowly, then his eyebrows lifted and he picked up two card keys. “There was a slight issue with the payment, but it’s been resolved.”

  “Oh.” Phew.

  “Yes. Your room has already been taken care of.” He slipped the keys into a folder, writing the numbers down as he did so, and slid them over the desk along with my credit card.

  “Excuse me? What do you mean, ‘taken care of?’”

  “They’ve already been paid for.”

  “By who?”

  “They wish to remain anonymous.”

  Ugh. It must have been Annie and Evan. They were already shelling out a fortune for this thing, I was sure. They didn’t need the added burden of paying for me.

  “No,” I said. “I insist on paying.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” A small frown formed under his beard.

  “But—”

  “It’s already been paid for. A done deal.” He shrugged.

  I should have been thankful. It was yet more breathing room financially. Instead, it felt like I’d been ambushed with a surprise pity party. Guest of honor: me.

  “Everything okay?” asked Nate as he sidled up next to me.

  “Yep. Everything’s fine.” I forced myself to smile, handing him his key.

  “Oh, let me…” Nate scrambled in his back pocket for his wallet.

  “Don’t,” I said as I stopped him. “It’s a long story, but I really don’t want to profit off of your room.”

  “Profit?”

  “Like I said, it’s a long story. Let’s just go get settled--”