Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Milo had to take two trains to get to the Shearwater Landing Mall, located in the suburbs on the outskirts of the city. Not that he was grumpy about waking up an extra hour early.
No, not at all.
An eerie feeling crept up on him as he walked through the quiet building, not yet open to the public for the day. All the shops were shuttered, the fluorescent lights bouncing off the white walls and tiled too-shiny floor. Christmas carols followed Milo like cheerful poltergeists.
Yeah, that would get old fast.
Milo found Santa’s Village, which was pretty much impossible to miss. Giant candy canes strung with lights fenced off a huge plastic gingerbread house, which—upon closer inspection—was only a facade. Behind the ‘house’ sat a large red chair and a mountain of presents.
There were no fewer than eight Christmas trees in the vicinity.
“Are you Milo Reyes?” a deep, rumbling voice asked.
Milo jumped, a shiver winding down his spine. He whipped around to find a massive man towering over him. “Um, yeah?”
The man’s hard blue-eyed stare sharpened, one of his eyebrows raising imperiously. “You sure about that?”
Milo’s spine stiffened. “Yes, I’m sure. Alice told me to be here at eight.”
“You’re early.” The man’s gaze swept over him, no emotion stirring in his stern features, and Milo shivered again. “You’re here to be a gift wrapper, right? Not an elf?”
Milo took a moment to thank whatever god—or other magical force—had spared him from being hired as an elf. “Definitely here for gift wrapping.”
The man stroked his full ginger beard, giving the impression he wasn’t ready to take Milo at his word.
Damn, even his hands were huge, his skin pale and covered in freckles.
He had wavy hair arranged in a messy bun with a few strands wisping around his face, and he was thick, broad, and took up space like he owned it.
Milo swallowed the tinge of interest rising within him. He really should keep it professional. No need to salivate.
He cleared his throat. “Who… um… are you?”
The man pointed at his shirt, which said Santa’s Little Helper.
Milo snorted. Little, yeah right.
The man raised a brow.
Shit. “Sorry. I, uh… don’t have a shirt yet. Alice said I could grab one before we start.”
“I figured as much, given your outfit.” Now he sounded annoyed, great. “I’m Zeke. I run the gift wrapping station and supervise the Village. You need to fill out some paperwork.” With that, he turned and walked off.
Was Milo supposed to follow? He scurried after him.
Zeke unlocked a door a few shops down from Santa’s Village. “This is my office. We’re supposed to shut the door when we’re in here so customers don’t see inside.”
There wasn’t a customer in sight.
“Oh-kayyy.” Milo shut the door, effectively closing Zeke and himself into a closet with a desk wedged in the corner. Sweet.
Zeke pointed to some papers on the desk. “Fill these in.” He crossed his arms and adopted a stance that gave serious prison guard vibes.
Milo’s face heated. Was it warm in here? Fuck, why was this so awkward? He sat at the desk and grabbed a pen. It was the usual contract stuff, and he quickly read it.
Zeke cleared his throat.
Milo looked up—and up—at him. “What?”
Zeke sniffed. “Nothing. I’m not supposed to leave people alone in here.”
“Right. I won’t take long.” Milo bent over the papers, his neck prickling with awareness.
Was Zeke going to stare daggers at him the whole time? He couldn’t pretend to be busy… rummaging around in one of the many boxes or something?
Milo filled in his personal details, the scratch of the pen disproportionately loud in the quiet room. Zeke sniffed again. Maybe he had winter allergies, but it sounded more like he was catching a scent than fighting congestion.
Did Milo stink? Oh, fuck this day, and fuck this week. Fuck everything.
Milo finished the paperwork and spun around in his seat. “Do I give these to you?”
“Leave them on the desk. There are shirts in here.” Zeke slid a box closer to Milo. “Grab your size, and then we can pick hats.”
Oh joy. Hats.
Milo found a size small T-shirt. Damn, Zeke was still watching him like a hawk. “You gonna supervise as I put this on, or should I find the restroom?”
A pink flush bloomed on Zeke’s cheeks, but nothing else about his demeanor changed. “The restroom is down the hall.” He turned and pointedly held the door open for Milo.
He hurried off and donned his Santa’s Little Helper shirt, relieved Zeke didn’t follow.
Back at the Village, a few more people had arrived, two of whom were dressed as elves.
“I got you a hat.”
Milo hadn’t heard Zeke approaching, but when he turned, the big man was close. Too close. A waft of something fresh, like cut grass, filled Milo’s nose.
Zeke offered a scrunched ball of red and white fabric.
Milo reached for it. “Thanks.”
“It was the last one left without ears. I find the plastic annoying, but if you want to swap it, you can.” Zeke donned an identical hat, which turned out to be an oversized red-and-white striped Santa hat, trimmed with white faux fur and a fluffy ball at the end of the long tip, which hung around Zeke’s pecs.
Milo averted his eyes from Zeke’s chest and pulled on his hat. It was too big, falling all the way to his eyebrows. “I appreciate the lack of plastic ears.”
Both elves had ears attached to the sides of their hats, which were honestly worse than the tight little pants they were wearing.
Zeke nodded in stern approval. “I’ll show you how to wrap gifts.”
Milo suppressed an eye roll. “I know how to wrap a present.”
Zeke acted like he hadn’t heard, walking over to a table set up with giant rolls of wrapping paper. “There’s a technique. I’ll show you.”
Milo bristled. It was like he was a kid or something. Yeah, Zeke seemed older, but so what? “I’m sure I can manage.”
He always did. Milo hadn’t asked anyone for help since he’d left home. Before that, even. He juggled a million things all the time and could wrap a fucking present.
Zeke shook his head in disapproval. “We don’t manage in Santa’s Village. We create magical experiences and pretty gifts worthy of Christmas morning.”
“Oh, good-fucking-lord,” Milo muttered under his breath and trudged over to the table, saying more loudly, “They better not be actual magical experiences, or I quit.”
Zeke’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth, then shut it. “Sit.” He pointed to a chair.
Maybe he didn’t know about magic. Lucky bastard. Milo had been avoiding thinking about it. He wanted to deny magic’s existence, but there didn’t seem to be any other explanation for Maeve and that photo.
Hopefully, Milo would never see Maeve again, and everything in his crumbling life would work out. You know, magically.
He sat at the table as directed and listened as Zeke explained gift wrapping in more detail than should have been possible.
It was like he’d gotten a BA in ribbon tying.
But as much as Milo wanted to hate everything about the situation, sitting back and letting someone tell him exactly what to do was… relieving.
Milo folded paper as instructed, used an economical amount of tape, and measured ribbon, tying it as precisely as possible.
“Excellent work,” Zeke said as Milo finished a practice gift destined to join the pile in the gingerbread house.
Milo’s whole body heated. Fuck, he was pathetic. Was he that starved for attention? For approval? Yes and yes, though he would deny it till his last breath. He shouldn’t care. It was annoying how seriously Zeke took gift wrapping, and doing a good job wasn’t an accomplishment.
He’d been fired three days ago. His life was a disaster, and if it kept going this way, he might never accomplish anything.
Milo had been trying to get his life together for years, hoping it would work out, and had to admit that it didn’t seem to be in the cards for him. Definitely not this Christmas, whether magic existed or not.