Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

L uke changed into his elf outfit, jingling as soon as he got the shirt on. There were bells on the collar, bells on his shoes, and bells on his hat. It got a little annoying after a while, but he’d learned to be still in the moments he wasn’t helping kids or Santa. The only thing he wasn’t too keen on were the ears. They were hot to wear, he couldn’t hear all that great in them, and by the time his shift was over, his actual ears were sore from wearing them. But it was a small price to pay for the job.

He loved being one of Santa’s elves, and this was his fourth year in the position. Sure, some of the kids were cranky and sometimes parents were pushy, but he put out as much Christmas joy as he could while doing the job, and more often than not, that’s what he got back. Of all the seasonal jobs he did, this one was his favorite.

He closed his locker and put on his hat, before heading out of the changing room.

“Oh, Luke, there you are.” Mrs. Pelletier waved at him, and he went toward her instead of the big Christmas display with Santa’s chair smack in the middle. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, how can I help?” He tilted his head just a little, making the bells jingle merrily to punctuate the question.

She looked vaguely annoyed for a moment, but then blinked and nodded to the good-looking guy standing next to her. “This is Chris. He’s the new Santa. I need you to show him where he can change into his costume, and then take him out and show him the ropes.”

Wow, Chris was gorgeous, all muscles and pretty lips and wavy dark hair and the iciest blue eyes he’d ever seen. There was only one problem…

“He’s not old enough to be Santa, ma’am.”

Mrs. Pelletier looked annoyed again, and Luke winced internally. He didn’t mean to piss her off; there was just something about him that always seemed to rub her the wrong way. If he hadn’t been so good at his job, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t have hired him back after the first year. Too bad for her he was.

“The white beard and hair will be convincing enough. He’s not fat either, but the suit will take care of that, too. Now get him changed and get him out there pronto, there’s already a huge line and it’s almost two.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He bobbed his head, going for subservient, then dodged around her and grabbed Chris’s hand, hightailing it back to the change room. “It’s this way. Did she give you the number for Santa’s locker?”

It was okay if she hadn’t—unless they’d changed it since last year, Luke knew it. Last year’s Santa had been old, and he’d forgotten the combination once and Mrs. Pelletier had reamed him for it. So when he was told it again, he’d asked Luke to be his backup and given him the combo. Good thing, too. Donald had needed his help getting the locker open more than once. He’d been an amazing Santa, though, really got into the part. He hadn’t come back this year, though, and rumor was it that he’d died. Luke hoped it wasn’t true; he’d been a sweet old man and he’d like to think that Donald was relaxing in some old-age home and living his best life.

“Yeah. I’ve got the combination. The costume is in the locker?”

“Yep. All the bits and bobs. There’s three of everything, and at the end of the day, you put your costume in the laundry basket and it’ll get taken away to be cleaned, then brought back.” Luke knew it might seem like a lot, but often kids had sticky fingers or they snotted all over you or, his least favorite, they barfed on you. Plus, most days it was warm enough that you sweated your ass off in the costume.

“I hope it fits. Nobody asked me for measurements.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You can put more or less stuffing in the jacket, as needed, and the pants are one size fits all—drawstrings.”

“That sounds so authentic,” Chris drawled, tone dry as dust.

“Dude, you’re not older than thirty-five, tops! If you want authentic, we should hire your grandpa.”

Chris snorted at that, looking surprised at the humor. Luke just gave him a grin and showed him to the Santa locker. “It’s easy to tell which is yours ’cause it’s the biggest. If you need any help with the costume, gimme a shout.”

He went over to the vending machine, less to see what was on offer today and more to give Chris his privacy. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who wanted the local elf ogling him as he changed.

It wasn’t long before he heard a long-suffering sigh. And a moment later. “Uh… elf?”

Luke spun around. “You talking to me?”

“I don’t know your name,” Chris said, words clipped short.

“It’s Luke. But when we’re in the display, you have to call me Top Banana Elf or Sir Elf or Jolly Elf.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Yes, very much right. I know they’re stupid, but they’re the approved names. And even if it’s not me, all the elves can be addressed as one of those three. Except for Tasia—she does the camera work and she is Camera Elf or Picture Elf.” Luke shrugged. “I didn’t choose the names. If I had, they’d be waaaaay more fun. Oh, you’re having trouble with the stuffing, eh?”

He went over and helped get the stuffing arranged where it was supposed to be, so Chris looked like he had a jolly santa belly instead of some weird lumpy disease. Then he helped Chris with the hat, making sure all the hair was coming down from beneath it like it should and making sure it wasn’t going to fall off. The beard fit pretty tightly, and once it was in place, Chris totally looked like the big guy himself.

Luke examined him for a minute, then nodded. “Perfect.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, really, take a look.” He led Chris over to the mirror so he could see Santa reflected back at him. “Ta-da! It’s Santa!”

“Huh. That’s not half bad.”

“It might even be half good!” He gave Chris a wink and headed out. “Try not to let the kids yank at your beard. Most won’t, but you have to keep an eagle eye out for the ones that do and just keep their hands away from it. Okay, a quick rundown of the rules.”

“There’s rules?”

“Yep. Only a few. No swearing while Santa. No rude comments, no ogling the moms or the teenagers. Especially the teenagers. Don’t dillydally too long—get the kid on your lap, ask what they want for Christmas, smile at the camera, hand them a candy cane, and get them on their way. It can sometimes feel like a production line, but that’s the only way to get through it and see all the kids. Now if the kid doesn’t want to sit on your knee, that’s totally okay, and there’s a little bench seat next to your chair they can sit on. Some parents are going to insist their kid sits on your knee even if the kid doesn’t want to. I try to help with situations like that so you don’t have to negotiate between them, but sometimes, I don’t see or hear—the pointy ears muffle a lot of sound. So if you need help and I don’t notice, just say something like, ‘Jolly Elf will come and help us,’ fairly loudly, and I’ll come and do exactly that. I think that’s all the pertinent details.” He hoped he hadn’t forgotten anything, but they were already a few minutes late and had to get to their posts right now. And there was no better way to learn what you needed than by learning it on the job, right? He sure hoped so.

Chris looked the tiniest bit shell-shocked as Luke led him past all the kids to his seat, but he got with the program soon enough, putting his hands on his belly and going, “ho, ho, ho” every few steps.

Thank goodness because Luke had been worried that Chris wasn’t going to be able to manage the jolly part of the job. But it looked like maybe they were going to be fine. He sure hoped so because breaking in new Santas sucked, and he really didn’t want to have to do it more than once this year.

Luke got Santa settled in his chair, gave him a thumbs-up and moved over to his position by the rope keeping a fairly substantial line of kids at bay.

“New Santa?” Tasia asked as Luke went by. Luke nodded. “Let’s hope nobody barfs on him today then.”

Luke nodded vigorously, bells jingling madly as he settled in and focused on the first clients of the day. Nothing could make them lose a Santa faster than a kid vomiting all over him on day one.

He took the forms for the pictures from the first Mom, there with a little girl about four years old, dressed in what had to be her Sunday best. He glanced through the paperwork to make sure all the boxes had been ticked and the bottom had been signed, then asked Mom to hand it to Tasia. She would show the parents where they could wait and collect their children once they were done with Santa.

Luke crouched in front of the little girl. “So what’s your name?”

“Sylvana,” she said quietly, watching her mom moving away from her.

“Well, Silvana, I am so happy to meet you! And you know who else can’t wait to meet you? Santa!” He stood and took her hand, walking her the few feet over to Santa. “Do you know what you want for Christmas?”

She nodded.

“That’s great. Make sure you tell Santa so he knows, too. Do you need help getting up onto Santa’s knee?”

She nodded, and he lifted her up and put her on Chris’s knee. Chris put a hand on her back, steadying her and Luke nodded approvingly. Good instincts.

“Santa, this is Sylvana.”

“Well, hi there, Sylvana. Have you been naughty or nice this year? Ho, ho, ho.”

Grinning, Luke moved back to his spot at the entrance and let Chris and Tasia do their thing. He had kids to entertain.

“Hi there! Are you ready to see Santa?”