Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Iwake up naked, wrapped in Stetson’s arms—in Santa’s sleigh.
In Santa’s sleigh. Yes.
I can’t deny the facts currently slapping me in the face via icy cold wind.
I tilt my head back. The sky stretches endlessly above, ink-black and freckled with stars so bright they look hand-placed, like heaven got carried away showing off and forgot that might be too much for mere mortals to bear.
The air is so still it hums. My chest tightens.
Is it an ache at what I’m seeing or an ache of what’s to come?
It’s beautiful. Too beautiful.
And for a second, I can’t shake the feeling that none of this is real. That my reality has nothing to do with pretty skies, mind blowing sex, and men who actually know what to do with their hands. I’m afraid that if I breathe too hard, it might all disappear.
From the moment I set eyes on this man when he squared off against a polar bear—it’s been surreal, I mean the fact that I can even say he squared off with nature is wild. And hell, that was only two days ago!
Two days and my life has changed in the most dramatic and chaotic of ways.
I’m officially hooked on a man I just met but feel as though I’ve known for an eternity.
When we were together it was more than just passion.
It felt like there was more at play—like this is what I’d been waiting for my entire life that every disappointment, dead end road, and tear was worth it because of his stupid sleigh and beautiful smile and stories of reindeers.
Maniacal laughter almost bubbles out of me because this is crazy but it’s my reality.
Maybe all of it was worth it. I turn and steal a glance at him.
He’s still asleep.
This man. I mean…
Just look at him.
He’s so freaking gorgeous.
His face is relaxed in sleep, making him look more boyish and stress free, with none of life’s weight or strain—not that he has a lot to worry about. But still. Even rich people who are related to Santa Claus have problems.
He looks so innocent.
But I know now from firsthand experience there’s nothing innocent about him.
My stomach does another round of summersaults when I think about just how opposite he is, how he touched me, working my body and dammit…
even my soul. He’s not clueless and that for women it’s a divine connection between the two, learn how to make me feel something with my heart while touching my body and I’m yours. I try my best not to sigh out loud.
Because that was pure sin.
The best kind.
Crap.
This is the kind of man that will be hard to get over—if ever.
If this ends in tears and heartbreak, I’ll have to go on a dating sabbatical for some time.
This is the kind of guy that can take you years to shake.
I’m already mentally preparing myself for the worst-case scenario because that’s what I’ve had to do my entire life.
Prepare for the worst, and never get my hopes up even when the best is staring at me straight in the face. It’s always too good to be true—always.
Don’t go there, Charlie, I tell myself trying to stop the panic that washes over me when I think about how I signed a clause that clearly stated this could only be a twenty-four hour thing… no matter what he’s said, or how he’s behaved I signed his clause.
Willingly.
I’m not just under this man, I’m under his contract.
And the only good advice my mother ever gave me about men was this— when he tells you who he is, you better believe it.
Still.
Watching him now, like this—peaceful, relaxed, satiated, I can’t help but hope he felt something more too.
“I can feel you thinking,” his voice is like soft velvet. “It’s exhausting, don’t you think?”
His eyes open and his blue gaze beams brightly against the dark sky. I should be embarrassed being caught, staring at him so blatantly, like a besotted schoolgirl or a psychopath ready to draw ‘I heart Stetson’ all over my papers but I’m not.
“You must have made the girls in high school crazy,” I say the first thing that comes to my brain. “I cannot even begin to imagine the trail of heartbreak and tears.”
He gives me a wolfish smile. “We had some good times.”
My ears perk up. “We?”
“Jayson and I went to school together,” he says like that explain everything somehow.
My eyes narrow as I try to dig for more. “I take it Jayson has a big role in the family business?”
“Yes,” his voice is soft, a tad hesitant. “But his role is a little unique.”
Compared to what? I mean really. They’re heirs to Santa’s throne, so if he’s the heir than that makes Jayson, what? The spare?
“More unique than Santa or the elves?” I arch a brow. “I find that hard, extremely hard, to believe.” I suddenly find myself straining to think of any sort of lore about Santa I could be missing and come up completely empty.
He has the audacity to smile while I think.
“At the end of the day, it’s just a job.” He finally says.
I burst out laughing. “Sure, okay, yeah, just a job. That’s like Batman saying it’s just a cape!”
“Did you just compare me to Batman?”
“No.” I grumble. “I was using him as an example.”
“My favorite superhero.”
“Focus.” I snap my fingers. “It’s not just a job, it’s mythical, all of this, so it’s more than that, meaning I’m not satisfied with ‘oh Jayson’s unique in this business’.”
“My voice doesn’t sound like that.”
“It sounded exactly like that.” I point out. “And again, not a proper response, Stetson, not at all. I’m gonna need more here.”
“Why?” He looks genuinely surprised.
“Are you kidding me?” I practically sputter and spread my arms wide. “Can I state the most obvious fact there is? Your dad is freaking Santa Claus! Again, mythical, again, magical, job is the last word I would use to describe any of this.”
He still looks like it’s no big deal. Maybe he’s been forced to, or maybe just being born into it really is that, like when you’re born into money.
I chew my lower lip, I guess he’s almost like a lot of my rich friends, they truly have no grasp on reality sometimes and you can’t fault them for it when they don’t know anything else, when their normal is having five nannys for one kid or going on an arctic cruise to watch polar bears while some people struggle just to put a turkey on the table for the Holidays.
You are a victim of your environment and I guess that doesn’t change even if you’re… Santa?
“And you…” I poke him in the side. “You’re his heir.
I get that it’s a job to you, it’s just to the rest of the world, well non-existent and second, a title I think more than job?
Wow, maybe you really are the Batman of Christmas, you should ask your dad about a cape, we could do a lot with a cape. ”
A grin spreads across his face. “I like the way you think.” He taps me on the nose with his finger.
“And I’m well aware I’m his heir and yeah I think title does work better than job, see?
I knew I needed you, beautiful and smart, and understanding, sexy…
” Okay he’s seriously distracting. Every word he says drips like sugar from his lips as he leans in closer to me like he’s going to kiss me.
He suddenly pulls back and clears his throat. “I don’t know what to tell you, Charlie Horse… this has been my life from the moment I was born. It’s all I know.”
I understand what he’s telling me but then I don’t because it just seems so out there and so surreal that it’s hard to wrap your brain around. “It’s the only life you’ve ever known.” I agree. “Just like, this is all I know.”
Sadness.
Loneliness.
Who, hello darkness my old friend, talk about intrusive dark thoughts at the totally wrong time!
Maybe it’s not my place to explain to him how strange it is, again, it’s the same with some of my friends, no matter how many times I try they won’t ever fully get it, maybe that’s why I do feel so lonely. Even my best friend doesn’t get it and she’s one of the best people I know.
“Your dad is the most famous man in the world, like across all religions and countries,” I tell him what he obviously already knows. “Everyone loves the guy.”
He laughs. “He’s easy to love, but for me and my sister, he’s just dad. He’s goofy, makes the worst jokes, as you’ve witnessed can’t carry a tune to save his life, and thinks that if he bakes, he doesn’t have to do the dishes.”
Just dad. I like it.
I fumble with the blanket and look away. “And the other women you’ve had sign your agreement?” I can’t help it. I’m too curious.
“What about them?” His look becomes more guarded. Is he going to change the subject? The air shifts, becoming more tense than it was a few seconds ago.
I try not to sound like a jealous whiner.
I remind myself that I’m not allowed to be a jealous whiner.
I walked into this willingly and signed my damn name, so to throw a fit over women no longer in the picture would be petty and stupid on my part, but jealousy doesn’t really care just like insecurity doesn’t really lean on logic.
I said I was ready for whatever adventure he wanted to play the minute I signed.
“Did they take it in easily?” I try and sound cool, but let’s be honest nothing about my question is cool but I can’t help it. “All of this?”
Stetson’s eyes become more hooded. His jaw clenches and unclenches and then he finally says. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never introduced any of them to my dad.”
My heart thumps so hard I’m sure he felt it. I can’t breathe. Nobody met his dad. I did. What does this mean? I need more time to mentally analyze this but I’m having a hard time not hyperventilating and or jumping into his arms.
“Oh.” My voice sounds small, but then I remember…My heart slams against my chest harder.
“You also said you’ve never brought anyone to Santa’s Village.” It’s all starting to become clearer.
“I haven’t.” He states emphatically.
“That’s not the way your dad made it sound though.”
Why am I going down this road with the questioning? Why am I acting like a jealous, insecure coo-coo face when I only just met the guy? Ugh, even as I’m asking, I want to sew my mouth shut.
“I just don’t like to be lied to,” I explain my erratic questions as quickly as I can, so he knows where I’m coming from.
“You think I’m lying to you.” He states it. Doesn’t ask it, just states it like it’s a fact and I kind of want to smack him on the head, duh, of course I think you’re lying because it all can’t be this good, this real, there has to be a catch, there’s always a catch.
Let him do the math. He sighs.
“Those rules were set in stone because of my sister,” he explains. “She has unarguably questionable taste in men.”
I smirk. I can’t help it. I like her already.
“We’d probably be friends.” I say without thinking and then add. “Present company not included because you are an excellent choice in men but to be fair you’re the one that picked me and had me sign something so you don’t count.”
“Ah, I picked you now, did I?”
I nod. “And if you didn’t at least lie to me right now because I’m still half naked with with you in a sleigh and it’s going to be super awkward if I have to suddenly get out and face Rudolph looking like this.”
Stetson glances over at the reindeer and shakes his head. “He’s seen worse.”
I gasp. “Scandalous, tell me more.”
“First,” he pulls me into his lap. “I did pickyou, so stop with the questions and that look on your face and what I know is a little bit of insecurity seeping into your bone post orgasm.”
“I am not—”
“---Shhh, you’re very pretty, alright? I love your mind along with your body and I even like that mouth despite the numerous questions that keep pouring out of it at such a rapid pace, also you’re horrible at hiding your emotions so, yes, you and my sister would probably be best friends which I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear. ”
I snuggle deeper into his arms. “Stop having all the right answers to all the scary questions.”
“It’s my job as a superhero.”
“I don’t believe we fully established that.”
“You called me Batman then the hero of Christmas, yeah we did, it’ s established, set in stone, you don’t discuss a man’s cape in jest,” he squeezes me tighter. “It’s rude.”
I let out a laugh. “I mean the audacity!”
“I imagine only you would have it, Charlie Horse.” He nuzzles my neck. I’m so gone for him I don’t know what to do. So, while staring up at the sky, I take a deep inhale.
And I exhale the insecurities.
The loneliness.
The loss.
It is Christmas after all, and my present came early. It’s time to enjoy what I have in front of me even if in the end, I need to put it back.
Enough.
It will be enough.
It has to be.
He has to be.