Chapter Seven
Kendrick
December
Pulling my suitcase behind me, I felt a small feeling of trepidation shiver through my stomach at the deer-in-the-headlights look the elf manning the check-in desk at the inn was shooting me.
She quickly glanced at her co-worker, whispering hurriedly.
Now they were both staring at me with the deer-in-the-headlights look.
What was going on? This wasn’t the first time I had checked into the inn since Keegan had moved to Santa’s Village. I had just done it last month. It was, however, the first time I had ever felt this weird anxiety rippling across my skin when I checked in.
Smiling brightly, because when people were staring at you like you had just sprouted two heads, that's what you did, I placed a hand on the desk. “Hello, I’m checking in. Reservation under Mallory.”
The first elf, whose name tag read Camilla, nodded her head rather rapidly, while wringing her hands. “Oh dear.”
Since she was making no move to type anything on her keyboard, I continued to smile like a lunatic. “Is there a problem?”
She glanced at her co-worker, who was making strange gestures with rapid eye movement, and slight shakes of their head. Their nametag said Venus, and under it in small letters, they/them.
“Uh…um…” Camilla stammered, “I’m…just going to run real quick and get the manager.”
What the actual fuck was happening?
Shooting Venus a tight smile as Camilla scurried off, they quickly averted their gaze, suddenly transfixed by something on their own computer screen.
Another person stepped over to their counter and Venus seemed extremely happy to help them, if the tension visibly leaving their shoulders was any indication.
Everyone was acting super weird. And that was saying a lot when it came to things in Santa’s Village. It was very different here than the human realm.
A tall, thin elf appeared in front of me, Camilla peering around his shoulder at me. Unlike most of the elves around the village he wasn’t dressed in silver clothes, but rather a nicely tailored black, pinstriped suit.
Bal would look hot in a pinstripe suit.
I really needed to stop picturing Bal in anything but what he usually wore. Really, I did. Because I had been spending an alarming amount of time lately wondering what he would look like in…colors. Tight jeans. Gray sweatpants. Plaid boxers. A black tux. Nothing at all.
A clearing throat jerked me back to the here and now, and out of my lets-dress-Bal-like-he’s-your-own-Ken-doll fantasy.
“Mr. Mallory, I’m Elf Sherman, the general manager here at the Christmas Inn.” He offered his hand and out of habit, and good manners, I shook it. “There seems to be a miscommunication concerning your accommodations.”
It took a full ten seconds for his words to compute in my brain, and even then I only managed, “A…what?”
“Yes, well,” he smoothed a hand over his silky-smooth silver hair that laid over one shoulder in perfect place. Seriously, he didn’t have a band on it or anything. “Your reservation was canceled.”
Blinking hard, my fingers gripped the edge of the counter tightly. “Canceled? I don’t understand. I made the reservation when I booked at Thanksgiving. Like I always do. Like I have done for the past several years. No one notified me of this.”
Well, they wouldn’t have been able to, but Keegan, Nik, or Balfour could reach me anytime and pretty much everyone in the village knew that.
“Yes, we are aware of that,” Sherman’s voice was calm, nearly a monotone, “however, your reservation was canceled–” he quickly typed on Camilla’s keyboard, “shortly after Thanksgiving.”
“Canceled by whom?” Though I had a sinking suspicion I knew who, and I was going to have words with him about this.
“By Mr. Kringle.”
Gritting my teeth, I enunciated each word sharply, “Which one?”
“Your brother.”
Yep, Keegan and I were definitely going to have some words when I saw him.
“Well, I’m not sure why he would do that.
He knows I always stay at the inn, because with the kids, and the parents, it’s just…
a lot.” Why was I explaining why I chose to stay at the inn instead of with my brother’s family?
It was really no one’s business but mine. “I’ll just take another room, please.”
“I’m afraid we won’t be able to accommodate you.” Sherman didn’t look one bit sorry, and if I wasn’t mistaken the general noise of the inn’s lobby had dimmed considerably since this entire interaction had started. Like all the elf ears–and a few non-elf ears–were hanging onto every word being said.
“Why not?” Trying to keep my voice low, I took a long, slow breath, reining in my temper. My anger should be directed at my brother and not the inn’s staff.
“We are completely booked,” Sherman gestured behind me, and I slowly turned to look over my shoulder at a startling long line of people, waiting to check in.
“The gingerbread house contest draws in people from all over the neighboring villages and close realms. It’s become quite a popular attraction. ”
Turning back to face him, I slumped a little, feeling defeated. Damn Keegan! What had he been thinking?
“You don’t have anything?” There was a slight desperation to my question.
“I’m afraid we don’t,” Sherman did look apologetic.
“I don’t know why my brother canceled my reservation, but I really need a room. The holidays and…please, could you look once more?” Or again, because the elf hadn’t made an effort to even consult his computer after the first time. Did he just have bookings in his head?
Camilla, who had been silent up to this point, content to hide behind her boss, peeked around his shoulder. Hand raised like one of my students, she gave me a small smile.
“Yes?” I nodded at her, giving her permission to speak, or ask her questions, or magically poof a room into existence for me.
“I believe Mr. Kringle was under the impression you no longer needed the room,” she said softly. “Because of you and Balfour dating.”
The implication that I would be staying with Balfour–and wouldn't need a room–hung heavy in the air.
I was going to throttle my brother when I saw him!
“Because when you made the reservation,” she continued, moving around her boss and leaning across the counter at me, “no one knew you were dating. But then at Thanksgiving everyone found out, so it was no longer a secret. And you wouldn’t need the room anymore.
And with all the people here for the gingerbread contest…
I think he thought he was doing a good thing. ”
Did everyone know about Balfour and me?
She leaned even closer, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “I think you two make a cute couple. And he’s been a lot nicer since you started dating.”
“Camilla,” Sherman issued a soft warning, and she straightened back up. “We do not gossip.”
“Yes, sir.” She sounded contrite.
And what did she mean that Bal had been nicer since we’d been dating? No, nope, not dating. Fake dating. That was all. None of this was real.
There was some shuffling and grumbling starting behind me, and I thanked them for their help, grabbed my suitcase, and hurried out of the lobby. Yanking my suitcase behind me over the hard packed snow, I headed down the hill towards the red and green workshop.
My seething anger kept me warm, but the rapid pace I’d set had me huffing slightly when I finally reached the warmth of the building. I stopped to scan the area, looking for the extra-tall figure of my seven foot elf.
Dammit! Not my elf!
He was across the shop, his head bent over some papers in his hand, while another elf gestured wildly. As if sensing me, Bal’s silver head shot up, and his eyes locked with mine.
Was that a hint of a smile I saw caress his lips?
Surely I was imagining things, since there was no way I could even make out his features that clearly from this distance.
Rolling my bag behind me, I marched across the shop, ignoring the stares and whispering going on around me from the elves working.
Finally reaching Bal, I gave a final heave of my chest, glaring up at him. Using my best teacher's voice, I said, “Your office. Now.”
He didn’t question me, just followed silently. His legs, so much longer than mine, ate up the distance, and he passed me, heading down the hallway where I knew his office was located. I found him holding the door open for me, which was…an unexpected and sweet gesture.
“Thank you.” I moved past him, the wheels of my suitcase scraping behind me. He shut the door, then leaned against it, eyeing me warily.
Leaning against his desk, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m going to kill my brother.”
Bal snorted. “I say that about five times a day. That I’m going to kill your brother, not my brother. I generally like my brothers. Most of them, well, not Birch. The younger ones I’m still on the fence about. What’s little Mr. Sunshine done now?”
“He canceled my reservation at the inn.”
Bal shrugged, “Okay, and? Just get another room. It’s called adulting, Kendrick.”
My face did some weird contortion, before my lips finally settled into a grimace, and then I flipped him off just because.
“Why didn’t I think of that? Fuck you and your condescending adulting bullshit.
There are no rooms available because of his stupid gingerbread contest. None. Not one. Believe me, I asked.”
Bal rubbed his cheek with one finger. “Why did he cancel your room?”
“The gossip around the village is because he figured I didn’t need it anymore, since you and I are–” I waved a hand between us, “you know.”
Bal blinked. “You know? I don’t know. We are what?”
Eyes wide, I hissed, “Together! Like together together. Sleeping together.” When he still stared at me with blank silver eyes, I added dryly, “Fucking.”
“Ohhhhh!”
Really, there was no need for Bal to look that horrified at the thought. As omegas went, he could do worse than me. I mean, no one even wanted to put up with his grumpy ass but me.
Nope, still pretending, remember? Get through Christmas and then you will quietly break up. You aren’t putting up with anyone’s grumpy ass. Not even one as fine as Bal’s.
Or for one who kissed as good as he did.
Yeah, I might still be dreaming about our kiss under the mistletoe. And the quick, small kisses that had followed at Thanksgiving.
Occasionally. When I was bored.
“Took you long enough,” I muttered, flopping down in his empty desk chair, and spinning it with a shove of my foot on the floor.
“Okay, well, you can just stay with–”
“I can’t stay at Nik and Keegan’s,” I reminded him. “They have no extra room. Kacey has a toddler bed, Keiran is in a crib, and Mom and Dad are on their magical pull-out sofa. Oliver and Kris have some bigwigs staying with them, who are here for the stupid–”
“Gingerbread contest,” Bal supplied unhelpfully. “They have the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, so that fills up their extra rooms. And they both come with security so that takes the couches.”
Stopping the spinning chair, I stared at him. “Wait. Both the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy have security teams? Huh. Does Nik have a security team?”
Bal gave me an irritated look. “Of course he does. He’s The Santa. He’s literally the top guy. You just don’t see them because they are very discrete and good at their jobs.”
“Huh.” They really must be good at their jobs because in all the years I’d been visiting here, I wouldn’t have been able to point one of them out. “I’m going to have to sleep in the reindeer barn, aren’t I? Fuck. Vixen hates me. She hates Keegan so I’m guilty by association and DNA.”
Bal chuckled, “She doesn’t hate you. She just is unnaturally attached to Nik.
And you aren’t going to have to sleep with the reindeer.
I was trying to tell you, before you started whining about there being no beds–candy canes, it was like listening to that fucking thief Goldilocks carry on–that you can stay at my place.
With me. It’s what everyone expects anyway, right? What people do when they are dating?”
I stared at him, mouth agape. “One, do you actually know Goldilocks? Like she’s real and not just a made-up story?
Wait, I’m sitting in Santa’s Village, fake dating Santa’s head elf, because my brother is married to The Santa.
Of course you fucking know Goldilocks. And two, I thought you had a one bedroom. ”
“I do,” he nodded, running a hand through his long, silver hair.
Mesmerized, I watched his fingers slide through the strands like silk.
I had touched his hair when he had kissed me, and it was the softest thing I had ever felt.
A pang of jealousy at his fingers hit me, and I had to shake myself.
What was wrong with me? I was jealous of his fingers?
Stroking his hair? I needed to get a grip on myself and fast.
“I can’t magically make my house bigger, like Nik, but you can take the bed,” Balfour told me softly.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He held up his hands, “I promise, no funny business. Besides, it will sell them on the idea that we really are dating.” He scowled, his brows knitted together, causing frown lines across his brow, “I think Nik is onto us. Or he strongly suspects we are lying. I know he made that mistletoe appear at Thanksgiving.”
Did he regret the kiss? I wanted to ask him, but I was suddenly afraid of his answer. Because I didn’t regret it, and I wanted him not to regret it. In fact, I would be happy if more mistletoe magically appeared.
And now we were going to be stuck together in Balfour’s cottage, with only one bed.
My life had suddenly turned into every clichéd trope of my favorite rom-coms, and I was surprisingly on board with it.
Kendrick
Past…
Grumpy Elf: Kieran spit up on me today.
Me: That was rude of him.
Grumpy Elf: Baby spit up stinks.
Me: That it does. And that shit does not come out of clothes! It’s like some kind of alien spit up that stays forever.
Grumpy Elf: My shirt is ruined.
Me: It’s fine. You have a whole ass closet full of the same damn shirt. No one will know if one is missing. Would it kill you to wear something with color?
Grumpy Elf: I’d rather not find out.