3. Dario

Chapter 3

Dario

None of these will fit me .

I’d spent hours searching for Santa suits because there were no pretend Santas available. I didn’t feel much like ho-ho-ho-ing, but I’d do my best. My finger hovered over the buy button. I’d have to purchase the suit by tomorrow or it wouldn’t be delivered in time, and if that happened, I’d have to drive to the city and pick it up.

I’ll wait until the morning. Something might turn up .

My reindeer was bored with online shopping and the will I or won’t I. I didn’t blame him.

As I sprawled on the couch and Max jumped up and snuggled into me, I studied Ed’s files scattered over my dining room table. I’d gone through them again, hoping to find a reference to a list of Santas, guys I hadn’t contacted.

Max didn’t move when I got up and piled them back into the box. I’d done my best to organize the spectacular, and I’d be the best Santa I could be, but I was niggled by guilt that I could have done more. I’d learned not to rely on Ed, whose head was now in retirement mode.

But as I shoved the papers into the box, one fluttered to the floor. Not a note or a list but a name card. And it was for a Santa! The card just read Santa and a phone number.

“Thank you, universe.” It was my lucky day. Someone had heard me and placed this card in the box. I stuck my head out the window and gave a thumbs up.

Maybe he’s busy! My reindeer brought me down to earth with a crash.

He probably was, but he might know someone else. And if he did, let’s hope it wasn’t Ed’s cousin.

My fingers trembled as I dialed the number, but damn, there was a voicemail. What did I expect? The guy wasn’t hanging around waiting for some dumbass who was looking for a Santa at the last minute.

I babbled my message but slowed my speech as I went over why I was calling and gave my number. I repeated it, and as I said the last digit, it got the annoying beep. I’d been cut off.

While I didn’t expect the guy to return my call tonight, I kept my phone beside me as I made dinner, watched TV, and had it in the bathroom while I showered.

I couldn’t sleep and was watching a documentary in the early hours of the morning when the phone rang. My first thought was someone was in trouble, and my heart sped up as if my beast had his fur and was galloping away from a predator.

The number wasn’t familiar, and I fumbled the phone—unusual for a shifter—and my squeaky voice wouldn’t have inspired any confidence in the caller. But it was the middle of the night and I could pretend I was half asleep.

“Hello.”

“You called about Santa.” The high-pitched voice on the other hand got straight to the point.

“I did. Is that you? I’m Dario, by the way.” I held my breath, anticipating him laughing hysterically and saying he wanted to touch base with the fool who thought he’d be free this close to Christmas.

“I’m not.”

I groaned, forgetting to muffle my voice with the bedcovers.

“I’m one of his elf helpers at The North Pole. Ryfon.”

Huh? I rewound what I’d said. I hadn’t asked if he was free, and he’d responded to my question about whether he was the guy I’d called.

“Nice to meet you…” How did one address someone keeping up the pretense he worked with Santa?

There was tapping on the other end and I was worried we were going to get cut off. “I’m looking at Santa’s schedule. What date did you want?

I blurted out this Saturday, expecting silence on the other end, a hang-up, or cursing. But anyone pretending to be Santa’s elf wouldn’t swear. He might be doubled up in pain, laughing.

“That’s fine. I’ve scheduled you.”

He asked for additional information regarding time and location, if we needed his sleigh and reindeers, and whether I expected him to fit through the chimney. “There have been incidents in the past where he was covered in soot from a dirty chimney.”

There was a long silence when I asked if he had his own Santa suit, and the elf huffed that it wasn’t a costume but Santa’s winter outfit.

“Santa will be nearby earlier in the day, as he’s visiting the Children’s Hospital.”

Ryfon was very efficient and the confirmation email arrived while I was on the phone.

“Thank you so much. You saved my ass.”

“I’m very glad your bottom is in perfect condition, Dario. Santa aims to please and does not disappoint anyone. Goodbye.”

“Yes, I did it,” I cheered, and the bed jiggled. Max stirred and put a paw on my leg. “Hey, buddy. You have one clever human.” I got up and peered out the window, imagining Santa and his team careening across the sky. “I have a Santa. I have a Santa,” I sang as I wiggled my butt that had been saved.

But I reasoned that Ryfon must have made a mistake. The Children’s Hospital was hours away. Did I dare call back and check? Ryfon was scarily efficient, and I didn’t fancy questioning him on the details.

He probably wasn’t familiar with the area and he was referring to the community hospital here in town. I bopped around the bedroom and slapped my ass, giggling at how Ryfon had referred to it as my bottom. So polite, but as Santa’s helper, I wouldn’t expect anything less.

I stopped myself because now I was thinking of the Santa coming to the spectacular as the real Santa. My excuse being it was the middle of the night and I was tired. But also exhilarated.

Sleep , my reindeer insisted.

Yes, sir.

I was proud of myself for everything I’d done and couldn’t wait to see how the kids in town would react to Santa.

Santa for the win!