Chapter 4
HARDY
It’s been a few days since the PTO meeting, and I’m packed into a circular booth with four moms. One of those moms is incredibly fucking hot.
That same mom is also my kid’s teacher and is off-limits.
So tell me why I volunteered to help with Santa’s Workshop?
Clearly, my dick is the one calling the shots here.
Picking at the label on my beer, I try to focus on their conversation, but Bella was right. There are a lot of dick jokes. I want to join in, but part of me is worried about offending them, and I really need their help, so I refrain.
After a quick round of introductions— Lucy is the other blonde, Raven has black hair and a permanent scowl, and Summer is the brunette who keeps nervously looking around anytime someone in the group makes a too loud dick joke—I try to get the ladies to focus on the task at hand.
“I don’t want to be a dick—”
“He said it, everyone drink!” Bella shouts, and the ladies all take a swig of their drinks.
“Are you gonna drink every time I say dick?” I ask.
“Yup,” Lucy says as she downs another shot and the rest follow suit.
I blink at them, half-shocked and half-impressed. These women could keep up with most of the guys in my battalion.
“I think we broke him,” Summer says as she waves a hand in front of my face.
Shaking my head, I look around the table. “Definitely not broken. I can assure you every part of me is in working order.” I say the last part to Bella, nudging her leg under the table.
The flustered look on her face is adorable as she reaches for her cider and misses, knocking it over. Lucy swoops in to catch it before it spills. The move seems almost choreographed, like it’s not the first time it’s happened.
“So you don’t need help with a certain appendage?” Lucy asks teasingly as she moves her eyes from my face to my crotch in rapid succession as Bella lifts her drink to her lips.
“Depends on who’s offering.” I look at Bella and smile when I see her comically large swallow. It has all sorts of dirty thoughts running through my head.
She doesn’t acknowledge my comment, but her cheeks pinken as she fills them in on my problem, recapping how I royally fucked up Avery’s first Christmas without her mom. I shift in my seat as they all take turns giving me sympathetic glances. The attention has my stomach in knots.
Bella beams as she turns to me. “Are you ready to learn the secret to Christmas that will change your life?”
“Okay, I think you’re overselling it a little,” Raven says.
“I think my life changed the night I showed up at your place on a 911 call. But sure, tell me your Christmas secrets.”
Bella’s mouth drops open and then snaps shut as the rest of the ladies swoon.
I can tell I’ve distracted her, so I nudge her with my foot.
Her thigh rubs against mine in the process, and I tamp down the urge to slide my palm under the table, grip her leg, and trail my hand higher until I can feel if she’s damp in her panties.
Where are these thoughts coming from?
I pull my leg back from hers, shoving down the inappropriate thought. This woman is my child’s teacher. And I’m going to be working closely with her over the next few weeks. Getting involved with her is probably not the best idea right now. I’ve got to get my libido under control.
But you haven’t thought about another woman like this since Lydie.
If Bella notices my inner turmoil, she doesn’t show it as she clears her throat, gathering our attention. “We treat Santa like a streaming service.”
The women all nod like this is a revelation, and I cross my arms on my chest, waiting for more. “I’m not following.”
“Santa is a subscription. You know how all these apps have different tiers you can subscribe to? That’s how we treat Santa.”
Summer quickly scans the room, then props her elbows on the table.
“Your kid is young, so you might not have experienced this yet, but at some point, she’ll find out that her friends got more or less from Santa than she did.
I’ll never forget the day that my kid came home and asked me why Santa brought his friend a PlayStation and all he got was a LEGO set.
I was at a loss for what to tell him that wouldn’t ruin the magic. ”
“The Santa Rules make it easy. There are different tiers. If Avery’s friends brag about getting an iPad, all you do is explain that her friend’s parents subscribe to a different tier, so that’s why they got different gifts,” Bella explains.
“It’s an easy way for your kid to understand without you having to admit that you’re poor,” Raven adds. “This way, if her friends get more, they’re on different tiers.”
“What are all the tiers?” I ask, my mind already struggling to keep up with how complicated this must be.
A huge grin lights up Bella’s face. “That’s the best part.
It’s whatever you decide it is based on your traditions or preferences.
Only want to have Santa bring one gift so you get credit for the rest?
It’s a tier. Want Santa to bring all the gifts?
It’s a tier. Want Santa to bring three gifts like the wise men?
It’s a tier. Want to teach your kids how to budget and have Santa bring under a certain dollar amount? It’s a tier!”
“You get a tier, you get a tier, EVERYBODY GETS A TIER!” they all shout in unison as they clink their drinks and take another sip.
Lucy claps her hands excitedly. “Literally whatever you already do is a tier. It’s a great way to honor everyone’s unique traditions and cultures and explain it in a way kids can grasp.”
“And you can opt in or out of anything. Live animals, clothing, large electronics, baby brothers, video games, weapons like Nerf guns, or anything else you can think of. Your kid wants a pet? Sorry, we opted out of live animals,” Bella adds.
“In my house, we opt in to Santa’s toy trade-in program—he picks up our old toys, and the kids get new ones.
I tell them that we can donate our unused toys to Santa so he can fix them up and share them with others.
That allowed me to shift the focus to helping others and giving back.
Then I sneak the box of toys to donate into my trunk and drop it off at Goodwill,” Lucy explains.
“Girl, you’re a better person than me. If I did that, those toys would be in my trunk for months, outta sight, outta mind. And then one of my kids would find it later and Christmas would be ruined,” Summer says with a laugh.
“Also, your little stocking problem is totally solvable,” Bella says.
I shift in my seat. “I want it on record that my stocking isn’t little.”
The ladies take another sip of their drinks.
“Noted,” Bella says as her eyes rake down my body. “Santa can help with your not so little stocking. Since you let it slip that you fill it, you can explain that you opted out of Santa-filled stockings. And then you can encourage her to shop for yours too.”
Are there any problems moms can’t solve? “I’m kind of in awe of you ladies right now. This is incredibly thought out and thorough.”
They all smile, and I wrack my brain trying to think of anything I can to stump them. “What about that damn elf?”
Raven bangs a fist on the table. “I hate the fucking elves!”
Bella breaks into a fit of laughter, and the sound warms my chest. “You can opt out of elves, like anything else you don’t want to do, but after what you told me about last year, I’m afraid that won’t be an option for you.”
“You’re probably right,” I grumble as another thought hits me. “What about all the mall Santas? How do you explain those?”
“I got this.” Summer cracks her knuckles.
“Mall Santas are Santa’s helpers. Since he’s so busy at the North Pole, he sends out helpers in his place so he can keep toy production on schedule.
And his helpers collect wishes and lists for him and report back.
It’s an easy way to explain why all the Santas look different. ”
“You’ve really thought of everything,” I say.
Lucy smiles understandingly. “I wanted to keep the magic alive with my kids but didn’t want them to feel left out when their peers got more from Santa than they did.
Not everyone can afford to go all out. If my kids ask Santa for something that is a hard no, I simply tell them we opted out of that service or that it’s not included with our tier.
I explained that I chose the smallest option because we didn’t need much from Santa and wanted him to provide more to others who needed it or chose it. ”
“The emphasis is on giving and not receiving, then?” I ask. The innuendo is unintentional, but all four women burst into laughter.
“He’s a keeper,” Summer says on a laugh.
Wiping a tear from her eye, Lucy continues.
“I never wanted my kids to feel unloved or less than because I couldn’t afford to get them an Xbox.
But I also didn’t want to shame other parents from going all out with their Santa-giving, so I chose to word it in a way that emphasized that some parents choose to have Santa take care of everything for them. ”
Bella leans in, and her sweet mint scent permeates my nostrils as warmth spreads in my chest. “And if someone has a tradition that you don’t, you can use the rules to explain it.
For example, I used to hang wrapping paper in the entryway and Isaac would run through it on Christmas morning like a football player coming out of a locker room.
It was a fun way to keep him from peeking under the tree while also building suspense. ”
“I remember you guys doing that!” Lucy says.
Bella’s cheeks pinken. “Yeah, it was the source of a lot of fights. Despite the fact that we hung it every year, Jake acted like it was the first time every time and could never get the angle right.”
Summer slaps her hands over her mouth trying to contain her laughter, and I chuckle.
“Don’t say it!” Bella laughs.