Only You Page 5

  Tears prickle my eyes. I clench my jaw against the sudden, inexplicable onslaught of emotion. I flap my hands in front of my face, blinking rapidly. “Ugh, what is wrong with you?”

  “Umm, I was just hoping to cut through here to the diner,” says an uncertain voice.

  I whip around to see a teenage elf staring at me with wide eyes. I force a laugh, backing against the wall to let her pass. “I didn’t see you there. I was just talking to myself.” The look she gives me—as if I’m about to come unhinged and attack her right here in an alley in Santa’s Village—makes me push past her and back onto the street…where I run headlong into Santa.

  “Whoa there.” He grips my shoulders gently to steady me. When he sees my face, his beard twitches and his eyes crinkle. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Yes. Fine.”

  “Clearly,” he says, the creases around his eyes deepening. Up close, I get my first good look at his moss-colored eyes, a mixture of green hues so unique it makes me wonder if he’s wearing colored contacts. His scent fills the small space between us. No peppermint schnapps smell for this Santa. More like something piney and fresh like cold air. Snow on a field of evergreens.

  He studies me, then says, “You never did tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

  I blink at the sudden change of topic. My eyes narrow, and I see he’s younger than I expected. And his beard is fake; seeing it the other night from a distance, I thought it might be real. The red velvet suit is beautiful and looks like it’s old but well taken care of. I try to infuse lightness into my voice when I say, “That’s because I already have everything I want. Thanks, though.” I step back to move around him.

  He reaches out as if to touch my arm, stopping with his hand mid-air. “Ivy. There must be something you want.” His voice has changed. It’s lower with the barest hint of an accent I can’t quite place. Normally, if I were in a situation like this, alarm bells would be going off in my head, yet all is quiet. With the elves’ Monday night ritual, I thought this guy might be sleazy, but there’s something about him that puts me at ease. Maybe I do have a latent Santa fetish after all.

  When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Something your heart desires. Something Santa might not be able to deliver, but if you put it out there in the Universe, maybe your wish will come true.”

  My body sways slightly. There’s something hypnotic about the combination of his deep voice and those eyes. I wish he’d pull down the beard so I could see his face. Realizing I’m staring at him, I blink again to clear my mind. His words sink in and I force out a laugh. “Since when did Santa go all new age?”

  His beard twitches again and he gives his head a small shake. “Christmas is a time for magic,” he says with a shrug. “There’s something powerful about a wish made at Christmas.”

  “Aren’t wishes supposed to be private, though? I’ve always heard if you say your wish out loud, it won’t come true.”

  “Doesn’t apply to Santa.” He winks, tapping the side of his nose with a finger.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine…” I trail off, racking my brain for something to say. Anything. I was being honest when I said there’s nothing I want. I’m lucky enough to be able to afford to buy myself almost whatever I want throughout the year.

  As if reading my mind, he says, “Something money can’t buy. Go on. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue. I know it. Just say it.”

  Who is this guy? Several seconds pass with us staring at each other. Before I know it, I’m blurting, “I want something of my own. Something that’s just…mine.” My gaze drops from his and I shake my head as heat floods my cheeks.

  “Something that’s just yours?” he asks softly.

  I press my lips together. I can feel the words building in my throat, tingling along my tongue, wanting to be said. “My job is really the only thing that’s mine. My day job,” I add and he nods. “And I’ve been bored stiff by it lately. My apartment isn’t mine anymore. Even my best friend isn’t mine anymore. I know that’s selfish and probably petty even though I’m happy for her. I just want…I guess I want what she has. Someone who, at the end of the day, is mine. Who will put me first. Take me into consideration with everything they do. Love me unconditionally.” I pause for a breath and raise my head to see he’s watching me with solemn, almost curious eyes. “Aren’t you glad you asked?”

  “I am, yes.” His gaze holds mine for a moment before shifting over my shoulder. He sighs and checks his watch. I peer in the direction he was looking to see an elf pointing at his wrist and motioning toward Santa’s House. “I’m sorry,” he says. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but he really does sound regretful. “Duty calls. I sincerely hope you get your Christmas wish, Ivy.”

  And with that, he’s gone, and I’m left feeling even more conflicted—not to mention embarrassed—than I was before.

  *****

  I can barely meet Santa’s eyes the rest of the evening. I can’t believe I allowed myself to word vomit all over a perfect stranger. And not just any stranger—one dressed as freaking Santa Claus. Bridget will have a field day when I tell her. Except I’m not sure if I can tell her, since part of said word vomit involved admitting I’m envious of her relationship and want what she has.

  The moment the announcement comes over the loudspeaker that the village is empty of visitors, I book it toward Elf Central. Bridget asked me at lunch if I’d join her for drinks tonight at a new bar near her house. She said she wouldn’t blame me if I said no after the busy week I’ve had, but this is the only night she’ll have free for awhile. Luckily, I caught my second wind about an hour ago, plus I have two blissful days off starting now, so I can’t pass up an opportunity to spend the evening with my best friend.

  When I reach the lounge in Elf Central, several people have already changed into regular clothes. Meredith appears from one of the dressing rooms wearing dark jeans and a sparkly silver top. If it weren’t for her signature blond curls, I’d hardly recognize her outside her elf costume.

  “Good, you’re here!” She intercepts me before I can grab my things. “A bunch of us are going to Connelly’s Pub tonight, and I was hoping to cash in that rain check.”

  “Oh.” I deflate slightly. Figures it would be the one night I have plans. “I’m meeting my best friend at a new bar near her place. Maybe next week?”

  “Of course.” She hesitates for a minute as if she wants to say more. I hope she doesn’t think I’m purposely avoiding them or that I don’t want to hang out with my fellow elves outside of work.

  I’m saved from over-thinking when my phone rings. “That’s probably my friend now. Excuse me.” I assume it’s Bridget since hardly anyone ever calls me.

  The sound of fingers aggressively hitting a keyboard greet me when I answer, followed by a growl from Bridget. “Hey,” she says. “I’m so, so sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel tonight. Kenneth screwed up a project that’s due next week and I want to get a head start on fixing it so I’m not working all weekend.”

  I groan in sympathy. Another example of being the boss meaning more than just big paychecks and perks. “I can come in and help if you want.”

  She sighs. “No, you go home and enjoy your night, my little elf. I might recruit you for help tomorrow if I need it. I really am sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it, we’ll go another time. Don’t work too late.”

  “I’ll try not to. Love you, Ives.”

  I tell her I love her too and hang up.

  “Sounds like you’re free tonight after all,” Meredith says. She’s still standing a few feet away. In the time since I took Bridget’s call, a guy has joined Meredith. A seriously hot guy. Tall, solidly built, dark stubble dusting his cheeks, and great hair—dark and wavy. The kind of hair you want to run your fingers through. There’s something vaguely familiar about him; none of the male elves are as tall as he is, so I don’t think that’s it. I wonder if he’s Meredith’s boyfriend and I’ve seen him around w
ithout taking too much notice.

  “It’s been one of those days,” I tell her. “I should probably just head home.”

  “Oh come on, please?” She draws out the last word. “You know what a great cure is for ‘one of those days’? Alcohol.”

  Can’t argue with that. What awaits me at home anyway? An hour of TV, listening to Celia complain about one thing or another, and then a chapter or two of my latest book before bed?

  “You really should join us,” the guy with her says. Holy hotness, he has a Scottish accent.

  “Okay, okay,” I concede. “I just need to find Celia and drive her home, then I’ll meet you there?” Celia doesn’t drink and she hates being in places where there are drunk people. According to her, they’re ‘stupid and insufferable’, so I doubt she’d be interested in coming along.

  “Yay!” Meredith bounces on the balls of her feet. Her momentum carries her forward until she crashes into me. I choke out a laugh as the wind is nearly knocked from my lungs. Meredith wraps her arms around me, giggling in my ear. “Sorry. My mom says I’m like a puppy. I get overly excited about things and then lose control of my own limbs.”

  She releases me and takes a step back, scanning the room until her gaze settles on someone. “Peri can’t come tonight and she lives near you, so I’m sure she’d give your cousin a ride. That way you can come with us in Santa’s sleigh. He drops a bunch of people back here at the end of the night to get their cars, or he can take you home and you can get your car tomorrow if you want to have more than one drink. He’s great like that.” She beams at the guy beside her and elbows him in a wink-wink nudge-nudge way.

  My brain jutters to a stop. “Santa’s sleigh?”

  Meredith does a facepalm. “I keep forgetting you’re new here. That’s what we call Hugh’s car because it’s huge and can fit so many of us. Plus he’s always hauling toys and books around, so it’s actually like Santa’s sleigh.”

  “And Hugh is…” I trail off in question.

  Understanding dawns on Meredith’s face. She bites her lip as if she’s holding back a smile. “Oh my god, Ivy, I’m sorry. I had no idea you hadn’t met Santa yet.”

  “But I have. I made an ass of myself with him earlier before spending the rest of the night working as the gatekeeper in Santa’s House.”

  It’s probably my imagination, but I swear a hint of pink darkens Meredith’s cheeks. She shakes her head and points to the hot Scot, who’s smiling knowingly. “Ivy, meet Santa. This is Hugh MacKinnon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When we reach ‘Santa’s Sleigh’—an eight-seater SUV—I insist on climbing into the very back row. I’m squished between Kasie, her long legs pressed firmly against mine since she can’t stretch them out, and an elf named Ben, who has the worst case of manspread I’ve ever seen. Despite my certainty I’m going to have knee-shaped bruises on both my thighs later tonight, it’s worth the discomfort to avoid Hugh’s searching eyes.

  Those eyes. How did I not recognize them when he came in to meet Meredith? In all fairness, I’d been paying more attention to her, not wanting to seem like I was staring at the gorgeous guy I assumed was her boyfriend. Still, it had taken every last ounce of courage, along with the scraps of my dignity, to carry on with our plans for the night and not fake a sudden, debilitating illness.

  Hugh had tried to pull me aside after Meredith’s big reveal, but a bunch of people came in right then saying they were ready to leave. My offer to drive myself was met with Meredith insisting I come with them. “Trust me, it’s easier to carpool,” she told me as she ushered me into a changing room so I could de-elf. “If Hugh ends up driving you home, I’ll make sure you have help getting your car back tomorrow. I know it probably sounds super cheesy, but we all look out for each other here.” Cheesy or not, her words rang true, and it made the cold feeling in my stomach ebb a bit.

  That feeling returns as we pull into the parking lot of Connelly’s Pub and everyone starts climbing out of the car. Kasie reaches back to offer me a hand, and I gratefully grasp it as I do a half-slide half-leap from the high back of the vehicle.

  “Grace personified,” I mutter.

  Kasie giggles, looping her arm through mine. “Vehicles like that are not made for cute lil’ shorties like you,” she says, giving me a squeeze. “And their back seats aren’t made for amazons like me.”

  A few more cars full of Village employees pull up and people spill out into the parking lot. Hugh holds the door to the pub open for all of us, and I avoid his eyes while aiming a quick smile in his direction as I pass through. The lower level appears to be a restaurant, so I follow everyone upstairs. We emerge in a huge open space with a bar at one end, tables in the middle, and a dance floor on the far side. Between the size of this place and the number of people from the Village, I might be able to avoid Hugh.

  Once we’re all gathered, Hugh calls, “First round is on me tonight,” causing a cheer to go up among our group. Meredith finds Kasie and me and offers to brave the bar to get our drinks. Kasie requests a margarita, and I decide on a banana daiquiri. Meredith heads to the bar while Kasie takes my hand and leads me through the tables where people are eating and drinking. Loud voices mix with mid-volume music as servers in short plaid skirts or tight black pants circulate with trays. We reach the back wall and Kasie pushes through a door into a smaller area. The music is the same volume in here, but the general noise level is lower, probably because this room only has a few people milling around one of its three pool tables.

  Kasie motions toward a huge booth with a semi-circle bench. I go in first, sitting where the bench curves. Meredith comes in a few minutes later, followed by a group of people including Hugh. Her hands are empty, so I’m guessing our drinks are on the tray Hugh is carrying.

  Meredith slides into the booth next to Kasie while Hugh sets the tray on the table. There are four glasses, along with the most enormous platter of loaded nachos I’ve ever seen. I expect Hugh to sit next to Meredith, but he plops down on the other side and inches over until there’s about a foot of space between our bodies. Several other people come in carrying trays and proceed to crowd into the booth until I’m squished yet again, this time between Kasie and Hugh. At least he doesn’t seem to be suffering from a case of manspread. He even murmurs a quick apology as he shifts closer to me.

  When the booth is full, everyone raises their glasses and toasts to Santa’s Village. Hugh offers me a small smile as he clinks his glass against mine. I must be unconsciously studying the clear, bubbly liquid in his glass, because he says, “Sprite.”

  I nod in understanding. He eyes me as if waiting for more, and I realize this is my chance to move past my embarrassment. To prove I’m capable of an exchange that doesn’t lead to me wanting to crawl into a hole. Be nice and make conversation, I tell myself. “You don’t drink?” I suppress a cringe after the inappropriate question pops out of my mouth. It was all I could think of!

  His lips twitch, reminding me of the way that same movement made his Santa beard dance. “I do every now and again. Not usually on work nights, and definitely not on Fridays when I have to host breakfast with Santa the next morning. Not sure the parents would be too impressed if Santa showed up with a hangover.”

  I laugh, reminded again about the peppermint schnapps Santa. “Smart move.”

  My attention is drawn away when people start exiting the booth. I look to Meredith, who says, “The guys are going to play pool. They all pretty much suck and it’s hysterical to watch. Want to come?” Before I can respond, she peers around to my other side and wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Or do you want to stay here?”

  I knew she hadn’t missed the awkwardness between Hugh and me at Elf Central. She probably thinks I have a crush on him, or maybe she has that matchmaking gene some people seem to have.

  “I’ll come watch.” I bump her leg with mine, urging her to move along the booth since everyone else on her side is already gathered around the pool table. When her back is to me, I turn to Hu
gh, remembering my silent promise-slash-reprimand to talk to him and not act like an awkward weirdo. “Thanks for the drink,” I say, raising my daiquiri.

  He gives me a small nod. “Any time.”

  I slide out of the booth and join Meredith on a line of stools against the far wall near the pool tables. The people who were in here before have cleared out, leaving the room full of Santa’s Village employees. Despite there being three pool tables, everyone crowds around one. Teams are chosen from those who want to play, and the rest of us are spectators. Maybe once I rest my aching feet for a bit I’ll see if anyone wants to play a game with me.

  It only takes a few minutes to understand why so many people have gathered to watch: the group of guys playing is absolutely hilarious. What they lack in skill, they make up for with their banter, lobbing insults at each other, using underhanded techniques to distract whoever is taking a turn, and just generally being ridiculous.

  “It’s like comedy hour,” I say to Meredith after awhile.

  She wipes tears of mirth from her eyes. “I know. We keep telling them they should take their act on the road, or at least apply for a spot at comedy night at that place downtown.” She looks past me and raises her chin, her smile growing wider. “And it’s about to get even better.”

  Kasie walks into the room balancing a tray full of shot glasses. One of the bartenders I spied earlier in the main room follows her in, carrying a second tray.

  “Time for elf shots!” Kasie calls.

  The pool table is abandoned and everyone crowds around the big booth. Meredith motions for me to follow her, and I do, albeit reluctantly. I don’t mind having the occasional drink, but shots have mostly been off limits for me since an incident in college I really wish I didn’t remember.

  I never had a drop of alcohol until I reached legal drinking age at nineteen. My aunt and uncle were so strict, I was rarely allowed to go to parties during high school. On the rare occasion I did, I didn’t dare try so much as a sip because I was certain my aunt would somehow know in that bizarre, almost psychic way of hers, and I’d be grounded for the rest of my life. When I started attending parties in college, I eased into drinking…except for one time when I got a bit carried away during a drinking game and ended up vomiting on the front steps of the house where the party was.