Alex couldn’t help smiling. “The dancing moose playing the triangle?”
“His name is Hank, and he wears dark musk cologne,” said Holly. “Randolph got off on Hank’s scent. The reindeer knocked him down and, well, you get the picture.”
Alex grinned. “Nailed by a reindeer in the mall.”
“It wasn’t pretty.” She turned then, motioning for the next child to meet Santa. “This is Gracie,” she said, introducing a Tinker Bell blonde to Alex.
Light green eyes evaluated Santa before she let him lift her onto his knee. Gracie was tiny, fragile, and very tired. She sighed, settling deeply against his chest.
“What do you want for Christmas?” Alex asked her.
“A Barbie bake set. I like cookies,” said Gracie. She yawned widely, her right cheek fully buried in his beard.
“What kind of cookies do you like best?”
“Peanut butter for me.” Her words were no more than a whisper. “Sugar cookies for Santa.”
“Put out cookies and milk,” Alex agreed. “I’ll be hungry by the time I reach your house.”
Her head bobbed, her eyes closed, and her body went soft against him. Tinker Bell Gracie had fallen asleep on his lap.
Her mother rushed forward. “It’s her nap time,” she explained. “Gracie’s had a long, busy day, but she didn’t want to miss Santa.”
An elf took a quick photo for the holiday picture, after which Alex gently lifted the little girl into her mother’s waiting arms. Neither the noise from the workshop nor from those still standing in line woke Gracie as her mother carried her to the nearest exit.
“Sweet moment,” murmured Holly the Nutcracker, who now stood by his chair.
“Maybe you should get a copy of that picture and show it to the judge,” Alex suggested.
“Perhaps I will.” It was not a definite promise.
Stiff from sitting, Alex stretched out his legs and rubbed his thighs. “How much longer?” he asked.
She looked at her holiday watch, its face showing a Christmas tree. Twelve red ornaments made up the numbers. “Under an hour,” she said. “We’ll close off the line shortly. Those coming in late will have to return tomorrow.”
“Four more days. I’m dying here.”
“You’ll be making an early-morning appearance at the local elementary school,” she reminded him. “You promised Louie Kessler to be his show and tell.”
Alex needed to make a phone call. He’d told the kid he’d wear his Rogues uniform. He had twelve hours to make it happen.
“Hurry the line along,” he said to Holly. “I don’t have many ho-ho-hos left in me.”
Holly McIntyre motioned to the elf to send the next two children forward. Three-year-old twins, a boy and a girl, they were more interested in playing with Santa’s beard and glasses than in relaying their Christmas list.
To Holly’s surprise, Alex was quite patient. He eventually captured their hands in his own and forced them to smile for their picture. A toothy, squirmy picture where the boy’s eyes were closed and the girl stuck out her tongue. Alex then wished them a happy holiday and told them to mail their Christmas list to the North Pole.
“Next,” he called out.
Holly and the elf kept the line moving quickly. The last little girl to sit on his lap hugged Alex as she recited her toy requests. She then cried her eyes out when it was time to leave. She loved Santa and wanted to take him home with her.
To calm her down, Alex gave her six candy canes and three envelopes of coupons for her parents. The girl’s sniffles became a small smile as she rushed back to her father.
Alex pushed to his feet. “The end.”
“Back to your street clothes, Santa.” Holly returned Alex to the storeroom in the Jingle Bell Shop.
He helped her remove her wooden nutcracker head, then proceeded to draw off his skull cap, along with his wig and beard set. He scratched his cheeks, ran a hand through his hair. “I’m hot and sweaty and in need of a shower.”
“I need to freshen up too.”
“There’s a shower in my loft,” he suggested with a slow grin. “Together we could conserve water.”
“I’ve used that shower, and it’s small. Very, very small,” she said.
“It’s all in the positioning,” he replied with a suggestive lift of his eyebrow. “There’s always a way to fit.”
Holly was certain the man could fit blond twins in the stall if he so desired. He looked capable of twisting, bending, and locking all the right parts.
“If I hadn’t gotten busted for speeding, I’d be in Miami, sipping Jack and getting laid.” He tugged his Santa coat over his head, and Holly came face-to-pecs with his magnificent chest. Her breath cut off, and her knees gave way. She shifted to keep her balance.
“I can buy whiskey at any liquor store.” His light blue eyes studied her closely. “It’s a woman I’m after.”
He stroked her cheek, gently slipped the damp tendrils behind her ear. “I’m looking for someone who cracks nuts for a living, but doesn’t bring her work to bed.”
Sex with Alex Boxer. A man so hot women would line up to heat his sheets. He’d be good in bed, she guessed. He was built to bang the headboard and make the box springs squeak.
However tempting, it wasn’t going to happen. They were polar opposites. Holly embraced Christmas. Alex was the antithesis of the Jolly Old Soul who uplifted the world with peace, hope, and cheer. He was total humbug.
After his week of community service, he would drive slowly out of town, cautious of the speed limit. He’d celebrate New Year’s Eve in Miami with breasty twins.
“Knickerbocher’s Liquor Locker is two blocks down on your right,” she directed him. “As far as you, me, and sex, use soap and enjoy your solo flight.”
Alex chuckled, a deep, sinful sound that made her tingle. “Dinner then,” he offered. “Join me?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I have to work.”
“Nutcracking’s not your full-time job?”
“It’s only for the holidays,” she said. “I own A Midsummer’s Ice Cream on Main Street. I usually work days, but during Christmas I switch shifts.”
Alex heel-toed off his Nikes. He then loosened the drawstring on his Santa pants and let them drop. Damp with sweat, his boxer briefs stuck to his body, showcasing him fully. He patted his stomach, shrugged. “A banana split or sundae for dinner—not my usual, but I’m game.”