THE ONE NIGHT STAND BEFORE CHRISTMAS

REINDEER FALLS #3

JANA ASTON

Copyright © 2019 by Jana Aston

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Edited by RJ Locksley

Cover by Kari March Designs

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Have you met Dr Miller?

Acknowledgements

Also by Jana Aston

The Reindeer Falls Collection

About the Author

PROLOGUE

I  wake up, blinking against the sunlight flickering in through the windows as I take in the carnage from last night.

On the floor, red pants trimmed with fake white fur. A matching jacket, with the equally hideous fake white fur lining the cuffs and hem. A wide black belt tossed on top of it.

And, of course, the matching hat.

I sort of hoped it wasn’t true. That I’d had too much to drink and was remembering the night prior through an alcohol-tinted lens.

Except all I had was an overabundance of hot cocoa.

And Santa. I had him too.

Yup.

I just had a one-night stand with Santa Claus.

That’s one hell of a way to get on the naughty list.

CHAPTER 1

“A re you single? I have a grandson and he needs a wife.”

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve been offered someone’s son or grandson or brother I’d probably have like… thirty or forty dollars. Still, they mean well so I just roll with it.

Besides, I love my job so much I don’t even mind when they try to pimp me out to their grandsons. Much. I don’t mind much.

“Why does he need a wife?” I ask. I’m curious to hear what she has to say because older folks tend to say whatever the heck they want and most of the time it’s pretty entertaining.

“Every man needs a wife,” she replies, her tone implying this is fact and something I should already know. “He works too hard, and what’s the point if you don’t have a family to provide for? It’s time he moved back to Reindeer Falls and settled down. He’s coming home for Christmas and I need to marry him off before the new year so he doesn’t go back to the city.”

I raise an eyebrow while trying not to laugh. “That’s not much of a sales pitch, Mrs Carrington. Besides, if he needs a wife no one will want him. All the good ladies like a man capable of taking care of himself.”

“Oh, he takes excellent care of himself. It’s why he’s still single. Too damn good-looking for his own good, that one. Takes after his granddaddy, rest his soul.”

“Perhaps he’s not the marrying kind,” I offer.

“No man is, until he meets the woman he can’t live without. Mr Carrington was a scoundrel in his day. Then he met me and the man damn near tripped over himself wooing me.”

Ah, the days of wooing. I don’t bother to tell her those days are over. Wooing in today’s age is waiting until the third text message to send a dick pic. “Well then, I hope your grandson finds someone.”

“Oh, he will. I’ll make sure of it. He can’t run around getting the milk for free forever. Boy’s gotta buy the cow sometime.”

If I was drinking coffee, I’d have spit it across the room.

“Mrs Carrington!” I sputter around a hybrid cough-laugh.

“He’s got a good job,” she adds hopefully, a twinkle in her eye that tells me she knows exactly how inappropriate she is.

“Go find yourself a seat,” I instruct, doing my best to be firm and professional. It’s Canasta Day at the community center, which is why Mrs Carrington is here. To play cards and socialize, not to find a wife for her grandson. At least I hope that’s why she’s signed up for canasta. I wouldn’t entirely put it past her to have signed up as some elaborate plot to hand-select her future granddaughter-in-law. Mrs Carrington is a hoot. “Find a seat now or I’m going to write you up for impertinence,” I add as a joke.

“Impertinence!” Mrs Carrington laughs in delight. “No one has called me impertinent in some time. I like you.”

“I like you too, Mrs Carrington. But you need to let your grandson find his own wife.”

“All right, all right.” Mrs Carrington makes a show of waving her hands about as if she’s put out by this, but she’s smiling. “Can’t blame a lady for trying,” she adds.

“No, ma’am,” I agree. Then I spy Mr Owens peeking in our direction. And it’s not the first time, either. Mr Owens is somewhat new to town. He moved here to be closer to his grandchildren after his wife died a few years ago. “Looks like there’s a seat open next to Mr Owens,” I say, looking pointedly at the empty seat and then back to Mrs Carrington. Matchmaking is fair game, and there’s nothing like the holidays to make you believe anything is possible and it’s never too late.

For Mrs Carrington, that is.

As far as my own love life, forgive a girl for being a cynic, but I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. Which is: he’s never the catch Grandma thinks he is. Never ever.

ONCE EVERYONE IS SETTLED playing canasta I head back to my office down the hall. I’m a program supervisor for the city of Reindeer Falls, overseeing the adult programs, which includes everything from the softball leagues to the senior programs. Except we don’t call them senior programs anymore. Active adults is the preferred term now, in case you didn’t know. Older adults want to be appreciated for the place they’re at in life. Retired, but still full of vitality and energy. Our active adult programs are aimed to service the members of our community who aren’t anywhere near ready to leave their homes for a retirement village but perhaps need a bit of community. A place to meet and play cards or volunteer. That’s all coordinated through me.

My co-worker Jillian supervises the youth programs, which covers everything from youth sports to summer camps to the crowning of the annual Candy Cane Princess each winter.

Her office is directly next to mine.

And it sounds like trouble is brewing in Reindeer Falls.

Luckily I always have commiseration cookies on hand due to my sister being a baker, so I grab the tin filled with her latest offerings and head over to find out what’s happening.

“What’s going on?” I ask, setting my coffee on the edge of Jillian’s desk before flopping into a stuffed armchair located in the corner of Jillian’s office. I pry open the tin without waiting on a response.

Jillian doesn’t disappoint.

“The Hobby Reindeer Championships,” she says, swiveling in her desk chair to face me, grabbing the tin from my hands the moment I’ve plucked one out for myself. “Ohhh, what’d Ginger make for us this time?”

“I think they’re ginger scones,” I say before taking a bite. “Yup,” I add around a mouthful of scone. “She’s been on a scone kick ever since her Keller James crush went into overdrive.” The Food Network is filming a gingerbread-baking competition in Reindeer Falls and my sister Ginger is in the finals. Also in the finals—Keller James, a celebrity chef from Britain she’s got a massive thing for. I’m pretty sure those two are making out like teenagers every time the camera stops rolling. And the feeling is mutual based on the way he looks at her. I’m happy for my sister, of course I am. Both of my sisters. Because the other one is currently on a business trip with her boss whom she claims to hate but we all know she’s secretly in love with.

Happy, happy, happy.

“Can we focus on the Hobby Reindeer Championships? Tell me everything. Beginning with what a Hobby Reindeer Championship is.” I get comfortable in the chair, preparing for an entertaining story because with Jillian, they often are.

“Okay, so, you know when you were a kid and you had a stick horse?”

“Um, no.” I shake my head in the negative before reaching for my coffee and taking a sip.

“Yes, you do.” She’s nearly aghast that I have no idea what she’s talking about. “You know, it was a stuffed horse head on a long wooden stick? Like a broomstick with a horse head? Surely you had one! Though now that I’m saying it out loud it does sound weird…” She trails off here, her face scrunched up while she mulls over the wonders of childhood.

“Right, okay. I remember those. We used to gallop around the house with them pretending we were cowgirls.”

“Right!” Jillian’s eyes light up. “So last summer I saw this documentary about hobbyhorse girls.”

“Hobbyhorse girls?” I repeat, not sure I have a clue where this is going.

“Exactly.” Jillian nods excitedly. “For years they were a secret society in Finland. For years,” she says again, stressing the importance of the words. “These young girls invented a form of hobbyhorse dressage in which they would prance and gallop like horses and enter competitions, but it was all very hush-hush.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out, even more confused than I was a moment before.

“It’s a really big deal in Finland. They make their own hobbyhorses, enter into jumping competitions, go to hobbyhorse conventions.” Jillian pauses to stuff a bite of scone into her mouth before adding, “You should watch the documentary. It was really uplifting.”

“Jillian?”

“Yeah?”

“What does that have to do with the Hobby Reindeer Championships?” I prod, even though I have an idea exactly what it has to do with the Hobby Reindeer Championships.

“Oh! Right. So I saw the documentary and decided I’d adapt it for Reindeer Falls. So I’ve got all the kids in the after-school program making reindeer on a stick for the competition next week.”

“Right, right.” I nod along as if this is the most logical idea Jillian’s ever come up with. “As one does. So what is the problem exactly?”

“Oh. Well, I realized I have no idea how to judge a reindeer trot.” Jillian shrugs and then grabs another scone from the tin with a big smile.

“Riveting crisis, Jillian,” I deadpan.

“I know. But I’ll figure something out.”

“I know you will. I have faith in you.” I roll my eyes as I stand, ready to take myself and my cookie tin back to my own office.

“Thanks, boo. But I do have one other teeny-tiny problem I could really use your help with.” Jillian looks at me beseechingly, her hands clasped together and tucked under her chin as she leans forward in her chair and does her best impression of puppy-dog eyes.

I groan.

CHAPTER 2

Ugh, where is this guy? I bounce my knee nervously while glancing at the door. Pictures with Santa start in twenty minutes and Santa is missing. Or rather, the guy coming to put on the Santa suit is missing. But at the moment, it’s the same thing.

I’ve got a room full of kids and no Santa.

If Jillian’s brother bails on this gig I will kill him. And her. It turns out her work crisis has nothing to do with planning an event in which the kids are going to prance around the community center gymnasium on stick reindeer while jumping over obstacles she bought online. Obstacles meant for dog agility training, but whatever. Apparently one has to make do with what they can find until hobby reindeering takes off.

That’s a direct quote, bless her heart.

Anyway.

No. Her crisis was that her boyfriend surprised her by planning a weekend trip, not realizing it was the same weekend as the fundraiser pictures with Santa at the library. An event that Jillian arranges as it falls under youth services. An event I’m now overseeing because Jillian’s skiing with her boyfriend.

So here I am. Ho-ho-helping.

All I have to do is get Santa into the Santa suit and ensure none of the children knee him in the balls. That’s the gist anyway. It’s a bigger problem than you’d think. As is finding someone to put on the Santa suit. All the professional Santas get snapped up by the big payers—the River Place Shops, the Christmas-themed hotel with an indoor water park. Heck, Otto’s Christmas Mart keeps three full-time Santas on staff year-round. Besides which, Jillian blew most of her budget on the hobby reindeer supplies so she wouldn’t have been able to afford a premium Santa even if she had been able to book one.

Hence, she’s booked a second-rate Santa. Her brother.

“Teddy’s a flirt,” she said. “He’s currently unemployed and living in our parents’ basement, so save yourself the hassle.”

Noted. At least she’s not trying to set me up.

She promised him fifty bucks to show up, which is more than I got, now that I’m thinking about it. But I don’t mind helping. I really don’t. As long as her brother shows up to put on the Santa suit.

I’m giving him another ten minutes before I place an emergency call to my dad and beg him to fill in. He’d probably be happy to do it, as I’m sure Mom’s got him on wrapping duty. He hates wrapping presents. If he doesn’t line up the pattern perfectly she makes him redo it. Then he suggests gift bags and then she tells him gift bags are for quitters and, well, things can get a little tense this time of year.

I’m just about to call when a man I’ve never seen before enters the library. He’s carrying a couple of books and headed toward the return bin, but then he sees me and pauses, something like recognition crossing his features. Granted, I’m standing in the lobby and I’m staring right at him, but he’s giving me that look that you give to strangers you’re meeting up with. Anyway, I think I’ve got my Santa. Finally.

“Teddy?” I ask, fighting the urge to look pointedly at my watch as a not-so-subtle reminder that we’re on a schedule.

He dumps the books into the return slot and then closes the distance between us with a slow stride, like a guy with no job and no use for time constraints. He’s good-looking. Of course he is. Men who come with a warning always are.

Crap.

He’s the kind of good-looking that makes my heart rate speed up. And he’s got sexy eyes. Yeah, yeah, I know that sounds dumb, but you know the type? They light up when he talks and they smolder when they look at you. He’s tall with wide shoulders and narrow hips. Strong jaw and perfectly symmetrical features. He’s the kind of attractive that you know is going to age really well.

And yeah, I want to punch myself in the face for even thinking sexy things about Jillian’s brother.

He stares a moment longer before shrugging and saying, “Sure,” with a small laugh as his eyes trail over mine. Heavy-lidded brown eyes the color of a swirl of caramel in a pecan pie, which has always been my favorite of the pies. “And you are?”

What a dick. Who says “sure” in response to “hello”? This time I make a show of checking my watch before I respond. “I’m Noel. And you’re late.”

“Ahh, you’re Noel. From the community center.” He says this as if it’s all clicking into place for him. As if he’s just remembering he was meant to do something at the library besides drop off books.

Super bright, this one.

And I bet those books were overdue.

I refrain from grunting as I tell him to follow me and spin on my heel, talking as we walk, reminding him of what Jillian has surely already explained to him. Santa. Kids. Pictures. It’s not hard. We should have this wrapped up in a couple hours and then he’s free to go.

When we reach the office he’s smiling. “So you need me to put on a Santa suit and play Santa?”

“Yeah, that’s the general idea.” I’m not sure why he’s so seemingly amused by this. He’s almost acting like he’s doing me a favor when really he’s doing the favor for Jillian. And the fifty bucks.

“You’re not what I expected,” he finally replies.

“Put this on,” I respond, shoving the Santa suit into his hands. When he simply grins and starts unbuttoning his pants I take it upon myself to step into the hallway because it’s pretty clear he’s got no relationship with modesty. It’s also clear why Jillian sent the Santa padding along with the costume because her brother does not have the body to play Santa. Unless it was a male stripper version of Santa—that he could definitely do, I think with a peek through the open door. “What were you expecting?” I find myself asking against my better judgment.

“You were described to me as sweet,” he answers, laughter in his voice.

“I am—” I start to object but I cut myself off with a shake of my head. I don’t care what this guy thinks. Jillian warned me he was a flirt. I need to stop engaging with him. A guy like Teddy is the last thing I need. Call me crazy, but I find employment and a place of your own really attractive in a man.

“You’re feisty,” he calls out from inside the room. I wrinkle my nose, reminding myself I don’t care what he thinks. “Sexy,” he adds, and my jaw drops open. Okay, maybe I care a teeny-tiny bit. I wonder if he’s joking though. I’m wearing jeans and a green turtleneck sweater. He must be joking, unless he’s got a turtleneck fetish.

“Well, you’re exactly what I expected.” I lean against the opposite wall to force myself to stop spying on him through the open doorway.

“How’s that?” He steps out of the office, still buttoning the Santa jacket over the stomach padding. He should look ridiculous—red pants, wide black belt slung over his shoulder and a half-buttoned matching jacket—but he doesn’t. In fact I’m having decidedly un-ridiculous thoughts about him as I watch his hands moving the length of the coat. When he finishes, he winks at me and I blush at having been caught staring.

Maybe I have a Santa fetish? Eww. Is that even a thing?

“You’re an even bigger shameless flirt than I was warned about.”

“Were you? That’s unexpected.” He smiles, appearing more amused than offended.

I shake off the weird sexual tension between us and push past him into the office to grab the beard wig and the hat. Beard wig is the correct terminology, right? Jillian left some boob tape to ensure it stays put. Body tape. I’m sure it’s called body tape. I think? Still, I laugh ’cause we all know the only thing you use body tape for is to ensure a low-cut top doesn’t stray where it shouldn’t.

“You’re going to tape that to my face?” Teddy asks, a look of disbelief crossing his face, eyebrows raised in question when I tear off a strip and attach it to the back of the beard wig.

“Don’t be a baby. It peels right off. Trust me, women go through far worse in the name of beauty.”

“All right, sure.” He waves his arms wide, as if in surrender, and perches against the edge of the desk. “Do with me what you like,” he says. But the way it comes out has my body responding in ways I’d prefer it not to. He says it like an invitation, which I suppose technically it was.

I step forward and attach the mustache portion above his lip, pressing it in place with my fingertips. My thumb inadvertently brushes his lower lip as I do so. I suck in a small breath at the contact, more affected than I have any reasonable right to be. Am I this hard up that I’m attracted to a Santa I met ten minutes ago?

Ugh.

He smells like he just ate a peppermint with an undertone of something else, like a simmering pot of cloves and cinnamon and lust.

And he thinks I’m sexy. I don’t think anyone’s ever referred to me that way before. Maybe it’s happened in bed, but never in the middle of a random day when I’m not even trying.

I scoot in between his spread legs, peeling another strip of tape to attach the bottom half of the beard to his face. There’s an elastic portion that secures it around his head as well—the tape is just a precaution in case any of the little ones get grabby. He looks truly ridiculous now, but damned if I’m not still drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Like snow to December. Like Santa to a chimney. Like a thirsty woman with an overactive imagination in the presences of one of those make-your-own-soda machines with the fancy touchscreen that allows you to make the soda combination of your dreams, like a peach-flavored Sprite or a raspberry Fanta.

Just like that.

“Why did you refer to me as sexy?” I find myself asking. I’ve still got the tape pressed between my fingers but I’m afraid to touch him again. Afraid I’m in some kind of sexy-Santa-induced trance.

“What? Santa isn’t allowed to find turtlenecks sexy?”

Yeah, that wakes me up. I’m the dowdy equipment manager to his sexy quarterback. Abort flirtation immediately before his cheerleader girlfriend shows up and laughs at me.

That might have triggered a bad high school memory. Shake it off, girl.

He’s teasing me. He’s a tease. A flirt. Jillian warned me. Out-of-my-league attractive is what he is. I slap the beard wig on his face with a little more force than necessary and step back, flushed.

“Uh, the kids are waiting,” I stammer as I turn and head for the door.

“Noel.” He says my name in a way that makes me stop and turn back, waiting for him to continue. “It was the way you glared at me the moment we met. Your bossy no-nonsense attitude. How you contradicted every idea I thought I had of you. Sexy as hell.”

I blink. And before I can process that he’s stood, placed the Santa hat on his head and moved to the office door where he pauses with one hand on the doorjamb, leaning in so close I think he might kiss me. He doesn’t. Instead he lowers his voice to a murmur. “Now let’s go ho-ho-ho it up, shall we?”

CHAPTER 3

T  eddy’s an excellent Santa. First-string Santa material, actually. He engages with the kids, makes them laugh for the pictures and he’s so good with the criers they’re giving him hugs and smiling by the time they’ve collected their candy cane, waving bye-bye with chubby mittened hands as their mothers bundle them back into their winter coats. The mothers don’t seem to mind him either. He charms them too, but I notice he isn’t looking at any of them the way he looked at me in the office. He’s charming with everyone but respectful. The added flirtation seems reserved especially for me, a fact that warms me from my head to my toes and all the best bits in between.

“You should line up a few more Santa gigs this week. Everyone in town is looking for a good Santa,” I tell him on the way back to the library office. The event ran longer than I planned, both because Teddy was a chattier Santa than I expected and because we had a huge line of kids. Seems there were a lot of parents in Reindeer Falls hoping their kid would tell Santa what they were hoping to find in their stockings come Christmas morning.

“Uh, I’ll keep that in mind.” Teddy looks like he’s fighting a grin. “I was thinking I’d take a bit of time off this month, but it’s good to know I’ve got options.”

He’s removed the Santa hat and beard as we approached the office, ripping the mustache off with a quick rip, like removing a Band-Aid.

“It’s good money,” I add, a little annoyed with his attitude. He’s being a little selective for someone without a job. “The A-list Santas are paid more than I am.”

“A-list Santas? Did you really just say that?” His eyes twinkle in amusement and I wonder yet again how it’s possible for someone to look attractive in a Santa suit, complete with a fake Santa pot belly.

“We’re in Reindeer Falls. Of course I just said that. There are more full-time Santas employed in Reindeer Falls than anywhere else in the world.”

“Is that so?” He smiles at me and it feels like seduction. I’m not sure how he’s not confusing every woman he comes in contact with, with those smiles. Come hither, they say. Ugh, shameless flirt, I remind myself. It’s second nature for him. Hell, I just watched him charm a bunch of kids—in a non-creepy way—like it was nothing. This is just who he is.

“It is,” I confirm. “Reindeer Falls fun fact.”

He nods. “I’ve been away too long. I’ve forgotten all the fun facts.”

“What is it that you do, normally? When you’re not taking time off,” I add. Which is rather polite of me, I think. Or passive-aggressive. Take your pick.

He gives me a sideways glance before answering. “Investment banking.”

“Investment banking,” I repeat, unsure of what to make of that. When Jillian said he was unemployed I imagined… actually I’m not sure what I imagined. A drummer probably. How cliché of me. “Is it hard to find a job in investment banking?”

“Not really, no. But I’ve been self-employed for some time now.”

Hmph, that’s a nice spin for unemployment.

“Okay, well, this is prime season in Reindeer Falls and the A-list Santas are very well paid. I can put in a good word for you with a few people if you like. One Santa goes down with the flu and everyone in town is scrambling for a decent replacement.”

“You’d do that for me, Noel?”

“Sure,” I answer, unsure if he’s amused or touched by my offer. But then he’s reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and I nearly forget how to breathe. His fingertip brushes my earlobe and it’s all I can do not to visibly shudder. I’m not imagining this either. He’s standing all of six inches from me, way, way past an appropriately friendly distance. He’s in kissing range, for sure. And his body language is more than friendly. Definite vibes happening.

He leans in a fraction farther and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t.

A beat, and I’m sure we’re both thinking about it, but I’m waiting on him to pull the kiss trigger.

“Noel, would you have dinner with me?” he asks instead.

You know, the thing is, maybe Jillian is wrong about her brother? I mean, I don’t have a brother myself but I’m sure if I did I’d think he was undateable too.

Gah, no!

What is wrong with me? Why am I attracted to the one guy I was warned away from? Do I have a bad-boy complex I was previously unaware of? Then again, would it be so terrible to have a little fling with a bad boy? It’s not like I have anything else on my Christmas list. And it’s not like he’s that bad. He’s not even in a band.

It’s just dinner, Noel. Way to jump the gun. But still, bad idea.

“Err”—I force myself to look away before I’m seduced by his come-hither sexy eyes and make bad choices—“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not hungry.” That was a solid excuse. Awkward, but solid.

“Hot chocolate then.” He hasn’t moved. He’s still standing close enough that if I moved my head back and he just bent his a little bit our lips would damn near be touching. “Come on, Noel. I’ve been a good sport today, haven’t I? Have a drink with me.”

Well. I run that over in my head.

Hot chocolate is the least threatening of all the drinks, isn’t it? Nothing bad has ever come from having a hot chocolate with someone, probably in the entire history of hot chocolate.

“We’ll have to bring the Santa costume,” I say in place of yes.

“Kinky.” He winks, but playfully. Smiling as he steps through the office door and starts unbuttoning the Santa jacket.

I roll my eyes. “It belongs to the community center. Jillian will kill me if I misplace it.”

“Can’t have that,” he agrees.

“THERE’S a coffee shop just across the street,” I suggest as we step outside of the library. There’s a light dusting of snow falling and Teddy is carrying the Santa suit under his arm. There’s Christmas music playing from a sound system wired along Main Street. Believe it or not, the town doesn’t play Christmas music year-round on Main Street. November first to December thirty-first only. So even though I live in a Christmas-themed town, it really does feel extra-special this time of year. The snow doesn’t hurt either.

I live in a small house, just a couple of blocks from the library, so I left my car at home and walked earlier today. That’s part of the charm of living downtown in a small town. You can walk everywhere, even with a little snow. We don’t need cars now either, the library being just a block off of Main Street.

“The North Pole Café?”

“Yup.” They serve drinks in old-fashioned Santa mugs year-round. It’s the best.

“Do you think Santa has a job during his off time?” Teddy asks while we walk, our feet crunching over a layer of snow packed down onto the sidewalks. There’s nothing better than that sound, in my opinion.

“Like a side hustle?” I’m smiling when I ask it, because I love ridiculous theoretical conversations.

“Yeah. Three hundred and sixty-four days off seems excessive.”

“Does he really have three hundred sixty-four days off though? I imagine it’s a full-time gig, overseeing the toy-making and keeping track of everyone on the naughty list.”

“Is the naughty list something you’re familiar with, Noel?”

He’s just opened the door for me at the café. I turn to face him, sure there’s a slight blush on my face but hopeful my cheeks are already red from our brief walk.

“You don’t think I’m naughty list material?”

“I’ve heard you’re the headmistress of the nice list.”

Hmm, headmistress. That has a nice ring to it, even if it’s leader of the good girls.

“Wow, I had no idea I had a reputation,” I tease back.

“Small towns, everyone is always talking.”

When we get to the counter, Teddy insists on paying, which is nice. He also insists on adding a couple of sandwiches and two frosted sugar cookies to the order, “just in case you decide you’re hungry.”

Of course I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since I left my house hours ago.

Which means he’s sort of manipulated me into having dinner, but he’s so charming about it I don’t even mind. Secretly… I’m sort of thrilled. What’s not to like about him, exactly? He’s handsome and charming and there’s something between us that’s just easy. I’m drawn to him and spending time with him is fun. Teddy is fun. And what’s better than having a casual dinner with a man who interests you and who adds dessert without being asked? With a man who referred to you as sexy?

Not much is better than that, my friends.

We grab a table and settle in like a couple of writers with charged laptops and deadlines. Which is to say, our behinds don’t leave those seats for far too long.

“So you’re staying in town for a while?” I ask. I shouldn’t ask. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Not to me. We’re not doing anything, he and I.

“The rest of the month.” He nods his head slightly, a long pause while he looks at me. “Or maybe longer.”

Good Lord, he’s a flirt. I swallow and remind myself of this fact because the way he just looked at me when he said that has caused a dozen tiny reindeer to practice their Christmas Eve flight pattern in my stomach.

“I’d forgotten how charming Reindeer Falls is,” he adds when I don’t say anything, but he’s still looking at me with that thoughtfully sexy look he has down pat.

I grip the Santa mug filled with hot cocoa between my fingers before taking a sip, a dab of whipped cream sticking to my upper lip. I swipe it away the moment I set the mug back on the table.

“Very charming,” I finally agree. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Who’s not into charm?” He flashes a smile at me that would seduce a nun and I’m not sure we’re talking about the same kind of charm.

“What do you like most about living here?” he asks once he’s taken a sip of his own hot chocolate. He wipes away his whipped cream mustache with his tongue. That isn’t distracting at all.

“Everything,” I answer, honestly. “There’s no place like home, you know?”

“Yeah.” He nods, his expression thoughtful, but encouraging me to go on.

“My family is here. I like the size of the town. I like being able to walk to places when I want to. I love the people. I love my job. I love the European architectural flair on Main Street and the way the entire city comes alive at Christmas. I know all the Christmas-themed things might be too much for some people to deal with year-round, but I love it. It’s a bit like living inside of a magical snow globe filled with hope all the time.”

“That’s—”

I interrupt before he has a chance to finish. “Super dorky?”

“No. It’s lovely.”

“Well. I also like that Detroit is only ninety minutes away. So if I want to go to a hockey game or an art museum or catch a flight to Belize, I can. Easy-peasy.”

“Easy-peasy.” Teddy smiles at that description.

“If you could hop on a plane right now and go anywhere, where would you go?”

“That depends,” he replies, easing back in his chair with a small smile on this face like he’s got all the time in the world to play this game and he wants to know all the rules.

“Money is no object,” I clarify. “An unlimited budget and you’ve got nowhere you have to be.” I reach up to give the hair tie in my hair a tug, ensuring my messy bun hasn’t fallen out as it’s prone to do.

“Would you be with me on this hypothetical trip?”

“Sure.” I roll my eyes, playing along, but I’m smiling too. I like being on the hypothetical trip.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in Belize.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m hoping you’d be wearing a wetsuit.”

“A wetsuit,” I reply with a laugh, unsure what the heck he’s talking about or if I should be offended. He’s imagining me in a wetsuit? Not a teeny-tiny string bikini? “Why a wetsuit?”

“Because it’d drive me crazy. It’d be like a tropical version of your turtleneck.” His gaze drops to the shirt in question before he meets my eyes again. “Theoretically prim and proper, but secretly sexy as hell underneath.”

Okay, yeah. He’s really good at flirting. I squirm a little in my seat, wearing my turtleneck and sipping hot cocoa and believing I might actually be sexy to him just as I am. That’s effective flirting. A-game. Major-league. Executive-level. First-class flirting.

CHAPTER 4

L isten. I’m not exactly sure how it happens but the next thing I know Teddy’s inside my house and we’re making out like teenagers pressed against the front door.

Okay, okay. I know exactly how it happened. He offered to walk me home after our coffee-shop dinner. The snow was starting to come down in big fluffy flakes and we used the Santa suit like umbrellas, each of us with a piece of it over our heads to protect us from getting wet as we walked the couple of blocks to my house. The air was chilly, but not torturously so. Crisp. The kind of weather that made you feel invigorated as opposed to miserable. The sky was dark and clear, holiday lights twinkling and Christmas music playing.

It felt like being on the set of a romantic holiday movie.

Which always makes me feel a certain sort of way.

Annoyed, if I’m being honest. No one ever makes out in those movies! If you’re really lucky they share one chaste kiss and you then have to use your own imagination to fill in the rest. And sometimes I didn’t want to use my imagination. Like right now, with Teddy. I wanted something not suitable for television with Teddy.

So somewhere along that very short walk I decided to invite him inside. Sure, Jillian warned me off him, but that was more of a suggestion than a request. Right? Besides, it’s just one night. Also, I deserved a Christmas bonus for taking care of the Santa thing today.

Wait, that didn’t sound right. Well, whatever. Teddy didn’t seem averse to giving me a Christmas bonus and honestly that was all that really mattered here.

So I unlocked my front door and while he was asking for my phone number I dragged him inside.

Like, literally. I grabbed a fistful of his jacket and tugged him right over the threshold.

Which leads us to right now.

“You really are the most unexpected surprise, Noel.” Teddy is smiling as he’s kissing me. Or maybe I’m kissing him. Whatever, I’m not going to second-guess this. It’s mutual kissing. He’s as into it as I am.

“Don’t tell your sister about this,” I say, pulling my lips away long enough to put in the request as I shrug off my jacket and toe off my boots.

“Okay,” he replies slowly. He seems almost confused by the request and I’m starting to wonder if this was some kind of tricky setup. Jillian knows how tired I am of people trying to set me up, so maybe she told me this wasn’t a setup as some kind of reverse psychology trick? Telling me Teddy was unsuitable so I’d drop my guard?

You know what? I don’t want to know.

“Don’t ruin this for yourself, Teddy,” I interrupt when he starts to say more. I roll my eyes but I’m in the process of pulling my turtleneck over my head so he can’t see me. Why are men so stupid? Does he want to talk me out of this? I’ve been in a dry spell more suitable for a convent than for a single woman in her twenties. I really need this to happen. I drop my shirt on the floor.

Teddy’s eyes trail slowly over me, another grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I really like you, Noel.” Again, like earlier he seems a bit surprised by me. As if I’m not matching up to whatever he was told about me.

“I’m sure you do,” I agree. I’m half naked, what’s not to like? But then I add, “I don’t normally do this,” not because I particularly care if he thinks I’m ho-ho-hoing it up with every guy in town. But just because I feel like mentioning it. That’s all. Not at all because I might like him too.

“Yeah, me neither.”

I side-eye him as I toss the Santa suit in the direction of a bench in my living room I keep for the purpose of collecting things.

“I promise you, I’ve never met anyone like you. In all my life.” His eyes trail over me again in that way that he has. That way that feels like he’d still be looking at me even if there were twenty topless women to choose from.

“Take off your boots,” I tell him before I do something really stupid. Like lose all my sensibilities and allow him to walk on my carpet with wet footwear.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gives me a little wink when he says it and I very nearly consider unbuttoning his pants right in the tiny vestibule that makes up my front entryway.

When he’s got them off I take his hand and guide him over to the couch, not bothering to turn on any lights. My Christmas tree is on a timer, set to start sparkling promptly at six o’clock, so it’s already on, illuminating the room with the perfect mood lighting.

I had no idea Christmas was so sexy, but really everything about it is an aphrodisiac. Sparkly lights, snuggle weather, and mistletoe hanging all over the place encouraging kissing.

Maybe it’s not supposed to be sexy, but Teddy is bringing the sexy back to Christmas. He’s putting the X back into X-mas. He’s adding the hung into hanging the stockings. He’s about to Christmas bonus me into next week.

I laugh at my thoughts as I sit on the couch, pulling Teddy down with me. I. Am. Ridiculous.

“Something funny?” he asks, brushing a few strands of my hair away from my face. I had it up today in a topknot but I’m sure yanking a turtleneck over my head didn’t do it any favors.

“Yeah, me,” I answer, but when I don’t offer any further explanation he laughs.

His fingertips are cool against my skin, but soft as he tucks the loose hair behind my ear. The simple skim of his fingertips running along the shell of my ear is heavenly. Who knew my ear was such an erogenous zone? Not me. Then again I never had a thing for Santa before today either so I guess that old saying is true. You really do learn something new every day.

“This bossy librarian updo has been driving me crazy all day,” he murmurs, his voice gruff as his fingers move back to my hair, searching out whatever is holding it in place so he can remove it.

“I’m not a librarian,” I object, but I pull the band out of my hair holding it all in place and let it tumble down all the same. It makes me shiver as the strands hit my bare skin. Teddy groans, the sound a barely audible sigh as he smooths the mess of it over my shoulders. One finger lingers on the strap of my bra, toying it back and forth over the curve of my shoulder.

“But you are bossy.”

“Assertive,” I correct, challengingly, with one brow raised. He laughs, and even his laugh is attractive. He laughs like we’re in on the joke together, the rumble low and sexy.

“There’s nothing wrong with bossy. It’s hot. I like it when a woman knows what she wants.”

“I want your shirt off.”

He smiles and obliges me and once his shirt is gone I start to see the value of unemployment because he’s clearly dedicating some hours to the gym. I place my palms against his chest and explore. He’s warm and solid. Firm and toned with a light smattering of hair. I have a thing for the perfect amount of chest hair on a man and he’s got it. I like the smattering of it across his pectorals and the trail of it from his bellybutton down to the space where it disappears beneath his waistband.

Below my fingers his chest rises and falls with his breathing as I explore and take him in, my eyes moving back to his face when he slides the straps of my bra over my shoulders and unfastens the clasp behind my back. I move my hands long enough to divest myself of the bra completely and when he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip at seeing all of me I shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“Not in the slightest.” I shake my head to back up my statement. He’s running his hands slowly up and down my arms. I’m not sure if it’s an attempt to warm me or just a caress but it feels so good to be touched like this. To be touched by him. I want to feel every inch of him pressed against every inch of me so I lean forward and kiss him again, our chests flush. There is nothing quite like naked kissing. The feeling of skin-to-skin contact. Especially when he has a good chest and even better lips. They’re smooth and warm and he’s got one of those pouty bottom lips usually reserved for models and Photoshop. I’m pretty sure I’ll die when he gets around to sucking a nipple between his perfect lips. I moan out loud at the very idea of it.

His hands are gliding over every inch of me he can reach. Down my back, up my sides. His fingers stop to massage the nape of my neck while we kiss and it all feels so good. So lovely I’m not sure how I’ve survived without it before this moment. Every place he touches me sets my skin humming with want and need and frankly if Santa can’t get this sleigh off the ground tonight I will die.

Not that I expect any issues there because I can feel his sleigh through his pants and it feels real sturdy. Dependable. Like it’s capable of being ridden all night long. I swing a leg across his lap to straddle him, grinding myself against him as if I’m too impatient to wait for actual sex to get off. And honestly, I might be. I’m so turned on it wouldn’t take much for me to orgasm at the moment.

Teddy uses our new position to cup my breasts with his hands, flicking my nipples with his thumbs before pinching one of them. I think it was the left one, that lucky bitch.

My head drops back involuntarily and the words “Oh, holy crap, fuck me,” slip out of my mouth.

“Is that what we’re doing? Thank you for clarifying.”

I’d call him a smartass but he’s still playing with my nipples and then he bends his head and—oh, God, yes, his mouth. I’m not even sure how to qualify the noises coming out of my mouth and I don’t think Teddy can either because he chuckles against my breast and it all feels so freaking good and fun and if I had any remaining doubts about doing this they’re gone now.

Also…

Jobs are so overrated. I would totally make out with him again even if we had to do it in his parents’ basement. Which we wouldn’t, because I have my own place. But the point is I’d be willing to make some compromises.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me when his lips have moved back to mine. Soft, sexy kisses, our lips exploring and teasing and tasting every bit of each other we can reach. He trails those lips down my neck and across my collarbone. Sucks an earlobe between his teeth and gives it a gentle tug.

It’s insane how good this is between us. I’m not normally this… uninhibited. I’m normally nervous with someone new. It’s always slightly awkward the first time, in my opinion. Like learning how to ride a new bike and you’re not sure how high to raise the seat or how well the brakes work or if that squeak is a one-off or if it’s something you’re going to have to get used to hearing every single time you want a ride.

That sort of thing.

I can’t recall a time it was ever this good.

This is… seamless. Like a sex dream where it all goes perfectly and you never want to wake up. Maybe it’s all the mistletoe floating in the air—theoretically speaking. Maybe it’s Teddy. I’m enjoying this too much to think too hard about it, so screw it, I won’t. I’m just going to enjoy every moment of it.

“That’s quite the package you’ve got there, Santa.” I roll my hips against him, hoping we can move this into my bedroom. Or we can just stay here and take off our pants. I’m not picky.

“Did you really just make a dirty Santa joke?” His tone is incredulous but he’s laughing. Which is totally normal in the midst of a hookup.

“Err, maybe? Too much?”

“Maybe just a little. Unless you’ve got a genuine Santa fetish you want to disclose at this time.”

“I don’t.” I shake my head vigorously while running my hands across his chest again. Really really nice chest hair.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Would it have been a deal-killer if I had?” I press. Why in the hell am I asking? Now I’m laughing too. At myself.

“I think we could have worked something out.” Teddy manages to say this like he means it, which is rather nice of him.

“Thanks.”

“Do you have any others?”

“Fetishes?” I perk up. I don’t actually, but it’s nice to be asked, isn’t it? Maybe I can develop one. A really good one I can use to establish my street cred on the kink scene in Reindeer Falls.

As if Reindeer Falls has a kink scene.

I start laughing again.

“Bad Christmas jokes,” Teddy clarifies with an amused grin.

“Oh, those. For sure.”

“You’re a lot of fun, Noel.”

“Agreed,” I say with a straight face. “A half-naked woman telling bad Christmas jokes is every man’s fantasy, am I right? Wait, unless…” I drag out the pause, a dramatic frown covering my face. “Unless bad Christmas jokes are your fetish?”

“They are now. Though I’ll admit, I do like the idea of you on Santa’s naughty list.”

“I’m quite naughty.”

“Are you?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” I rake my nails playfully across his chest with just enough pressure to elicit a small sigh from his lips.

“Fair point.”

CHAPTER 5

We move things to my bedroom after I ask Teddy if I can see his North Pole. Honestly, I’m not sure why he hasn’t run out the door yet either, but you do what you gotta do to get laid, I suppose.

“You’re really into Christmas,” Teddy observes with a slow glance around my bedroom. I’ve got snowflake sheets on the bed. To be fair, I had no idea I was having company tonight or I’d have changed them. I’ve also got a solid red cover on my duvet and a big white cable-knit blanket across the foot of the bed. And a bedroom tree. Totally normal. It’s just a three-footer, but I like to fall asleep to the tree lights.

“This is nothing. My family is really into the holidays.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it is.” My mom might be a little over the top about Christmas but I appreciate all the memories and traditions I have from my childhood.

“Is that how you ended up with the name Noel?”

“Yup.”

“What’s your middle name? Mistletoe?” He’s teasing but he has no idea how close he is.

“No, that’s Holly’s middle name. Mine is Eve.”

“You have a sister named Holly Mistletoe?”

“And another one named Ginger Spice.”

“Stop it.”

“I’d never lie about such a thing.” I laugh.

“I suppose holiday sheets are tame, all things considered,” he agrees, taking another look around my room before hitting the light switch and stretching out beside me on the bed. There’s enough light from the bedroom tree to make him out clearly, but not too much to kill the mood. Bedroom tree for the win.

“How does Santa stay STD-free?” I’m unbuckling his pants as I ask, and I really hope I can get to the punchline without laughing.

“Tell me.”

“He always wraps his package before shoving it down the chimney.” My cheeks hurt from trying to hold back the laugh. Teddy groans but I don’t think it’s because of my bad joke. I think it’s because I’ve got his pants undone and I’m palming him through his briefs.

The next thing I know I’m flipped onto my back and Teddy’s taken over. I guess joke time is over. Hallelujah.

He’s kissing me and sliding my leggings over my hips, which is a really effective way to get me to stop telling bad Christmas jokes. Or saying much of anything at all. I kick them free from my ankles once Teddy’s got them past my knees. My panties follow suit. Then he finishes the job I started by removing his pants, but before I can get my hands on him he’s working his way down. Lips, neck, breast, navel—oh, my, yes.

I’m ridiculously slick already and growing more so with every press of his lips headed south. When he flickers his eyes upward to look at me from between my legs I’m sure I’ll come from a single tease of his tongue. He’s absurdly good-looking. Caramel-brown eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Strong jaw. And those freaking lips. Yes, oh, God, right there. I arch my back and grab the bedsheets in a fist in each hand, and all the tension from my shoulders eases as my legs fall open wider. He takes the opportunity to place one of my knees over his shoulder while pressing my other leg farther into the mattress, which is so freaking hot. Like he wants to make a feast of me and he’s just getting comfortable.

When he smiles at me from between my legs I am done for. He drags his tongue through my core and I roll my hips in response. Then he rims my entrance with a fingertip before pressing it inside and flicking my clit with his thumb. I squeeze my eyes shut on a long exhale before snapping them back open again. The view is too good not to enjoy.

“Talk to me,” he instructs before replacing his thumb with his lips. “Tell me what you like.”

“You’re already doing everything I like,” I respond, but it comes out all funny and breathless. “Keep going.”

He smiles and I immediately add the sensation of Teddy smiling with his lips pressed against my clit to the list of things I like. Then he nips at me with his teeth while sliding a second finger inside of me and I explode. My thighs shake and my back arches while Teddy manipulates his fingers inside of me, dragging the orgasm on for what feels impossibly long, a succession of “oh, oh, ohs” falling from my mouth because full words are more than I’m capable of at present. His thumb is rubbing circles on my clit while he’s pressing kisses on the inside of my thigh and holy Jesus, has it ever been this good? Ever? He’s reading me like I’ve left an instruction manual on the nightstand. Responding to every twist of my hips, every gasp of breath from my lips.

When he’s wrung out every last bit of pleasure from my body he places a final kiss on my abdomen and climbs over me, the weight of his cock heavy against my stomach as he presses his lips against mine, still wet with me.

God, that’s hot.

I reach between us to wrap my hand around the heavy length of him. He’s rock-hard. Thick and hot in my hand and he grunts when I lightly squeeze him with my hand.

I’m going to feel every inch of him. In the very best way.

I run the head of his cock through my wetness while stroking him from root to tip while he whispers filthy things in my ear about how hard I’m making him. I’ve never felt so sexy or desirable in my life. When he grabs a condom and sheathes himself, I’m ready. So, so ready.

“Stop begging, you little minx.” Teddy grins at me between kisses and the way he says it makes me laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun in bed before. I’ve never equated naked plus laughing as a good thing before.

Also, yeah, I might have been begging.

I’ve never felt so greedy for someone’s cock, but I’m positively throbbing for it. Wet and achy and needy and I want him right the hell now. I tug his face to mine and kiss him while flexing my hips underneath him, trying to get whatever friction I can wherever I can get it.

Then finally, blessedly, he’s there. Right there where I want him. He nudges the head of his cock just inside of me and I exhale and relax around him because as wet as I am, he’s big. Another inch and I’m rising to meet him even as I’m adjusting to the feel of him. The delicious warm girth of him. Oh, holy help me, he feels so good.

“Keep going,” I breathe into his ear, sliding my hands around to his ass to encourage him to slide deeper. I know he’s holding back, observing my every sigh and blink and moan to see where I’m at. To torture me or drag out the pleasure, I’m not sure.

“Jesus, this is—” He cuts himself off on a hiss as he pushes forward until his pelvis is flush against my own. I love the feel of him on top of me. The way we fit together, the brush of his chest hair against my nipples. The tangle of our legs and the feel of his back under my hands.

When he starts a smooth, slow rhythm I love that even more.

Best Christmas bonus ever.

He hitches one of my legs up, spreading me wider and angling deeper, hooking my knee into the crook of his elbow. Then he drives deep and long, withdrawing until only the tip of him remains joined with me. Again. Again.

I’m a squirming mess of feelings and sensation and holy hell, this guy is like the unicorn of perfect lays.

“Fuck, Noel.” He breathes the words, his forehead pressed to mine as my hips roll up to meet his every thrust.

“I know,” I groan. “It’s so good,” I tell him. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

I should be careful what I ask for because he doesn’t stop. He drags me up to the point of orgasm and then pulls back until the reward of release is just out of reach, but the pressure builds each time higher and higher until I’m nearly afraid to come. Afraid it will ruin me forever.

Then, finally—

Oh, God.

It’s like free-fall. Every cell of my body is alight with pleasure and I’m tightening around his cock so hard it’s almost painful, but like the most pleasurable pain you’ve ever felt in your life. My thighs are quivering and the aftershocks go on and on, my pussy pulsing around the hard length of him like it never wants to stop. It feels like there is nothing else in the entire world except Teddy and me in this bed.

Then he rubs his thumb over my clit as he jerks into me with a final thrust, his eyes on mine as he comes with a grunt that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer while he’s doing his best to support himself on his forearms so I can breathe. I’m not sure how he has the energy left but he flips us over so I’m on top, our bodies still joined. I sprawl across him with no regard for his ability to breathe.

“That wasn’t terrible,” I observe and below me, he laughs. A gruff exhale, the skin near his eyes crinkling in that way that is unbearably attractive on a man.

He’s beautiful.

It’s another few minutes until we can properly move. He slides me off of him and I feel the loss of him immediately. And I’m sore, in an oddly pleasant way. Swollen and well used. Is that a terrible thing to think?

He gets up and disposes of the condom then comes back to the bed with a damp washcloth and tends to me. Which is weird but hot. Maybe it’s not weird, maybe it’s a normal thing guys do, but it’s never happened to me before. I’d probably object if I wasn’t so drunk on orgasming.

Then he climbs into bed, lying on his back beside me. I’m on my stomach, head on pillow with my arms underneath, facing him. He turns his head towards me, his gaze contemplative.

“Tell me a secret.”

I’m not sure why I ask. It’s more than I need to know, isn’t it? This is just a one-night thing. I don’t need his secrets or anything else. Yet here I am. Asking. I’m not ready to fall asleep yet. I’m not ready for this night to end. And maybe I want to know a little bit more. Just a little.

The mattress moves as Teddy moves to his side, one arm propped beneath his head as he looks at me. “A secret?”

“Something dumb.”

He nods, acknowledging the challenge. “Mechanical pencils freak me out. I want them banned from society.”

“I have to keep the volume on the television on an even number because I think an uneven number is bad luck. But this only applies to the volume on the television and nothing else.”

“Whenever I’m stuck at a stoplight I add up all the numbers on the license plate of the car ahead of me.”

“When I was a kid I always ate the broken animal crackers first so the unbroken ones could live a little longer.”

“That’s pretty dark. Have you been keeping that one to yourself for a long time?” Teddy’s got a hint of a smile on his lips when he asks and he’s running his fingertips over my hip and I never want him to stop touching me.

“I know,” I agree, dragging out the word on a long sigh. “I’m quite twisted.”

“I’ll walk out of my way to avoid stepping on a manhole cover.”

“Very manly.”

“I’ll work on it.”

We play this game until my eyes are drifting closed and then I tell him my silliest secret of all.

“Sometimes I secretly pretend I still believe in Santa.”

“Pfft.” He smiles softly. “Who doesn’t?”

CHAPTER 6

Rolling over, I groan, keeping my eyes shut against the sunlight filtering in through my blinds. I have a series of thoughts before I even open my eyes.

1. I did a thing last night. With Jillian’s unexpectedly hot brother, Teddy.

2. Jillian’s unexpectedly hot, wildly attractive, good-in-bed brother, Teddy.

3. Jillian’s unemployed flirt of a brother whom she specifically warned me away from, Teddy.

4. The very delicious ache between my thighs reminds me that I don’t really care about Teddy’s employment status. Or who he’s related to. Perhaps I could hire him to be my sex elf, then he’d have a job and I’d have a sex elf.

5. I wonder if it would be asking too much to expect my sex elf to do laundry during the day while I’m at work and possibly also make dinner?

6. Having a sex elf would be really cool but is starting to sound a bit too much like prostitution for me to be entirely comfortable with the idea.

7. Sex elves are notoriously unreliable and best returned after one night.

8. My sex elf—I mean Teddy—is still here and I need to open up my eyes and deal with last night like an adult.

Except when I open my eyes I find I don’t want to. Deal with it, that is. I don’t want to have a conversation about how he’s just rolling through town and crashing in his parents’ basement because he’s a misunderstood creative type.

A creative type in finance. Ugh.

The Teddy I spent last night with is nothing like the Teddy Jillian described and honestly, I’d like to remember this version of Teddy.

He’s sound asleep and gorgeous. He looks so perfectly relaxed and at ease in my bed. Hair tousled from last night but in that perfectly just-fucked way that is so hot on a man. Sprawled on his stomach, arms wrapped around a pillow with his head turned in my direction. Shoulders exposed as the blankets are only drawn halfway up his back. I could lie here studying his physique all morning. I’m tempted to draw my fingertips along the muscles but I refrain lest I wake him. Dark eyelashes fan across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, still delicious.

The thing is, he looks really peaceful. Like he needs the sleep.

I glance at the clock over his shoulder. It’s later than I thought, much later. I’m supposed to meet my sister Ginger for a bit of Christmas shopping this morning. So really, I don’t have a lot of time to talk to Teddy. Hardly any time at all.

He doesn’t stir as I slide out of bed. Nor when I get dressed more quietly than a teenager preparing a late-night escape out of their bedroom window.

Of course, I’m not going to do that. I’ll use the front door. The window would be much more likely to cause a draft and wake him up. Besides, it’d be really dramatic to use the window when the door is both available and more logical.

I’ve dressed and he hasn’t stirred an inch. I tripped over the Santa costume on my way to brush my teeth but I managed to catch myself, the only casualty a stubbed toe and a lot of silent swearing.

Still asleep.

Hmph.

It’d be annoying if it wasn’t convenient because clearly I’m meant to let him sleep. We all see that, right? It’s the polite thing to do. Pretty sure an advice columnist would advise to let your guest sleep in.

I can’t imagine they’d advise anyone to let their guest sleep in while they made a run for it, but you can’t win them all.

CHAPTER 7

“I ’m in love.”

Good sweet Lord, this is going to be a long morning. This declaration comes from my sister Ginger, twirling in an actual circle as she says it.

“With who?” I ask, mostly to be contrary because that’s my job as her sister. We’ve already gotten coffees to go and now we’re walking along Main Street doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. I know damn well who she’s talking about, but she’s been denying anything is going on between them so I’m not inclined to make this easy for her.

“With who?” Ginger repeats back, and I don’t mistake the sarcasm in her tone. “With Keller. Who else would I be referring to? Did you think I picked up some random guy last night and fell in love? Honestly.” Yup. Full sarcasm.

“Keller?” I’m gonna draw this out just to mess with her. Also because she referred to picking up a random guy like it’s a bad thing. Granted, she doesn’t know that I just did exactly that, but still. It grates. “The guy you’ve been referring to as a jackal since you met him last week? The guy you’re competing against for ten thousand dollars of prize money? The guy leaving Reindeer Falls as soon as The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off is done filming? That Keller?”

She openly glares at me now.

“Yes. Him!” She scowls at me and I know she’s desperately trying to come up with some kind of modified swear word to call me because she hates to swear. I wait patiently, hoping it’ll be a good one. When she was little and Holly or I did something particularly awful to her she’d yell, “Fishsticks!” while stomping her little foot. We could never keep a straight face and she’d end up getting whatever she wanted.

“He’s going to stay for a while,” she finally adds after a long exhale. I’m actively disappointed she didn’t tell me to elf off.

“What does that mean?” We pause in front of the yarn store so I can stare her down and get the full story. I’ll toss some sisterly skepticism her way, but the thing is I’ve seen her with Keller and the guy is totally crazy about her. Only Ginger could get someone to fall in love with her in a week and if I didn’t love her I’d be really, really annoyed by her.

“He said to trust the magic,” she says, nearly doing another twirl right there on the pavement. If she were a Disney cartoon a couple of birds would appear overhead carrying little hearts made out of cranberries or some nonsense. As it is a squirrel runs past and I swear to Santa Claus he makes eye contact with her before running up a tree.

Ginger, for her part, immediately realizes her mistake and turns redder than reasonable for the temperature outside. Then she takes an inexplicably large interest in the shop window. Inexplicable because Ginger can’t knit. She can’t crochet either. The yarn crafts have always eluded her.

“The magic?” I deadpan in response, pretending to be more shocked than I am. When we were kids she tried to convince Holly and me that she had invented a magical love globe. We’ve been giving her shit about it ever since.

“Not real magic, Noel,” Ginger snaps, her chin tilted up in defiance. “Don’t be such a cynic. He just meant holiday magic.” Then she twirls off to the next storefront.

Holiday magic. Hmph. I wonder if I can blame holiday magic for my one-night stand. The one-night stand I left in my house. By himself. Who does that? Seriously, I’m such an asshole.

“I can’t deal with you right now, Ginger. I have actual real-life problems.”

“Like what?” she challenges, clearly disbelieving I’ve got anything going on at the moment.

“I slept with Santa Claus last night, for starters.”

“You did not.” I’ve got her attention now, that’s for sure. She’s staring at me, a mixture of doubt and curiosity on her face as if she’s not sure if I’m messing with her or if I’m serious.

“I did. I really did. His suit is still lying on my living room floor.” And he’s still lying in my bed because I’m a jerk. I panicked.

“His red suit?” Ginger’s face has just lit up. I’m pretty sure I’ve made her entire year with this revelation. I’m not even mad. If I was in her shoes I’d be all over this story like a kitten in a Christmas tree too.

I gnaw on my lip and wonder if Teddy’s still at my place or if he’s woken up and vacated yet. I wonder if anyone else has ever snuck out of their own house after a one-night stand or if I’ve just set the bar for weird one-night stand behavior?

“Serious question though.” Ginger interrupts my thoughts, pausing until I’ve made eye contact with her and raised my brows, indicating she should end the dramatic pause and ask her question. “How is he gonna make the rounds on Christmas Eve without his suit? He can’t slide down chimneys in his underwear. Everyone knows he needs the suit to make the entire thing work.”

My sweet baby sister manages to deliver that entire speech with a straight face, until the end, when she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“I hate you,” I announce, turning on my heel and heading to the next shop. I’ve been done with my Christmas shopping since Thanksgiving like any self-respecting Christmas lover. The only thing I need is a box full of chocolates so I can stuff my feelings down my throat a hundred and sixty calories at a time .

“You should at least hang it up, don’t you think?” Ginger is hustling down the sidewalk to keep up with me so she can keep talking about this. “What if Santa doesn’t get it back in time to have it pressed? He can’t pull an all-nighter delivering presents in a wrinkled suit as if he’s on the sleigh ride of shame, Noel! Think of the children!”

She’s doubled over on the sidewalk, clutching her sides, laughing at me.

“You’re a terrible person, Ginger. I hope you get a stocking full of coal.”

“I probably will.” She stands upright, eyes full of delight. “Now that you’ve got an in with Santa.”

“You’re my least favorite sister. Also, I’m returning your Christmas present since I’ve gifted you with this story that’s so delighting you.”

“Totally fine,” Ginger agrees. “This story is going to delight me more than anything you could have bought me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter.

“So you really had a one-night stand with some guy in a Santa suit last night?”

“Yup.” I nod. “I mean I know who he is. It’s not like I was calling him Santa all night.”

“Good to know.” Ginger nods as if she considered the possibility that I was involved in some kinky Santa fuckery. “Do you like him? Are you going to see him again?”

“I, um…” I pause, unsure how to answer. Am I? Do I? Why did I even bring him up? Why am I still thinking about him? He’s not even staying in Reindeer Falls. He’s not forever material, let alone boyfriend material.

But maybe he’s one-week material. That’s a thing, right?

Ginger and I part ways a few minutes later when we spot her new boyfriend leaving the old auto body shop at the end of Main Street and she takes off to find out what he’s up to. I reluctantly head home, already knowing what I’ll find.

Teddy’s long gone.

CHAPTER 8

I ’m a little melancholy when I walk into work the next morning. It’s the byproduct of having the best sex of your life but not being real sure you handled it properly and also it was with your co-worker’s brother. It all adds up to a bowlful of awkward, to be honest.

But surely he didn’t tell her, right? That’s what we agreed upon. Sorta. I’m sure I mentioned it in passing, which implies some kind of binding agreement including a five-year statute of limitations.

Still, the guilt. Now I feel like I’m keeping something from her. Or lying. I hate lying. Avoiding uncomfortable emotional situations, fine. Lying, icky.

So perhaps I can just avoid Jillian for the rest of the month?

Nah. I’m overthinking this. Jillian said Teddy is only in town temporarily. This will all blow over in a week. Still, I dawdle in my car until exactly one minute before starting time.

I’m in my office all of half a minute before Jillian bursts in.

“I am so sorry!”

I’m confused because she’s the one apologizing, not me. Not that I actually need to apologize for sleeping with her brother. We’re both grown consenting adults. But she took the time to warn me that he’s exactly not my type so sleeping with him feels sorta rude. Like I don’t value her advice. Which I do. It’s just that her brother is insanely sexy and that’ll void good advice every time.

“My brother is such an idiot. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s not that bad,” I object with a small laugh, feeling a twinge of defensiveness for Teddy. He really was nothing like the picture Jillian painted of him.

“Not that bad?” Her eyebrows are in danger of reaching her hairline. “He stood you up on Saturday. After he swore to me that he’d show up.”

“No, he didn’t.” I’m frowning as I shake my head, slowly lowering myself into my chair and tapping my keyboard to spring my computer to life. “He was here. The entire afternoon. He was an excellent Santa, by the way.”

“Uh, that’s not possible.” Jillian’s really riled up and I’m starting to feel uneasy. She’s waving her arms in the air and pacing in my office, which is never a good sign. “The little shit went to Vegas. I didn’t even realize he’d stood you up until I saw his pictures on Instagram the following morning.”

Little shit. My unease is beginning to grow as pieces of a puzzle that don’t go together are trying to arrange themselves in my mind. It also feels like a scarf of humiliation is wrapping itself around my throat. It’s really hot and itchy. Pretty sure it’s made out of synthetic materials like regret and assumption.

“How old is Teddy?” I question, as casually as possible, while my brain searches for any answer that makes sense with what I’m hearing.

“Twenty-three. Too old to be this irresponsible. God, I am so sorry, Noel. I didn’t realize he bailed until after the event was over and by then I was worried you weren’t speaking to me because you didn’t even text me to bitch about him bailing.”

She pauses here, confusion crossing her face as my words about Teddy being a great Santa finally catch up with her. She stops pacing, hand on hip.

“Wait, what do you mean he was here? Who was here?”

Great question.

Knockoff Teddy was at least thirty.

“I have no idea,” I mumble, dropping my head into my hands, slumped over my desk.

“What does that mean exactly?” Jillian grabs my cookie tin—newly filled with cookies via my sister—and pops it open, settling into one of the guest chairs in front of my desk.

“He said he was Teddy.” I frown, remembering. He said that, right? No. I asked him if he was Teddy and he shrugged and said, “Sure.” I’m remembering that shrug in a new light now. What kind of psycho just pretends to be someone they’re not? No wonder he was nearly smirking.

What an asshole. Whoever he is.

But he knew me, didn’t he? He looked at me like I was familiar to him, or like he was expecting to meet me. He said things about me not being what he’d expected. He mentioned me working at the community center, didn’t he? How would he know that if he didn’t know who I was? I riffle through my memories, but they’re all jumbled up.

We’ve never met before. I’m sure of that much. I’d remember that hot asshole.

“Your brother really went to Vegas this weekend?” I question even though I’m sure Jillian isn’t confused. Knockoff Teddy was not her brother.

Jillian hands me her phone, screen up and her brother’s Instagram account on display.

“Yeah,” I muse, scrolling through the last few photos. Her brother is hot. But he’s twenty-three and not my type. And he’s most definitely not Knockoff Teddy. “I wouldn’t have slept with him,” I mumble as I flip her phone over in my hand, ready to hand it back.

“Wait, what?” Jillian snaps to attention, straightening up in the chair so fast she nearly drops the tin of cookies in her haste. “You slept with some random Santa and you don’t even know who it was?”

“It’s looking that way, yeah. And don’t be so harsh. I thought I knew who he was.” I cross my arms across my chest and huff in irritation. “It could have happened to anyone.”

“Err,” Jillian hedges, “that’s doubtful. The chances of banging Santa have got to be super-low. For starters he only gets out once a year.”

“Haha. Jillian’s got jokes.” I roll my eyes before slumping in my chair, defeated.

“Okay, catch me up. Someone who was not my brother showed up and voluntarily put on a Santa suit, then spent the entire afternoon taking pictures with crabby kids before he seduced you in the library office?”

“Um, sorta?” It wasn’t exactly like that. “He asked me to dinner first.”

“Ohh.” Jillian looks interested. She’s abandoned the cookies to wave me on.

“Which I declined. Then he talked me into having hot chocolate with him. And then I lured him back to my house and seduced him.”

“But you never exchanged numbers or real names? Did you call him Santa all night? You’re such a pervert.” Jillian’s expression is a mixture of awe and abhorrence.

“I thought his name was Teddy. And no, we didn’t exchange numbers.” I straighten the stapler on my desk, wondering how I can get her out of my office before she asks any more questions. “Is your office phone ringing? I think I hear it ringing.” I look pointedly toward the door.

“How did it end?” Jillian is not going to be dissuaded. “Did he escape through your chimney while you were sleeping?”

“No.” I staple a couple of Post-Its together. “I used the front door to leave while he was sleeping and he was gone by the time I came home.”

Jillian blinks at me.

I attach a paperclip to my stapled Post-its.

“You snuck out of your own house? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure if that’s what happened or you’re not sure what’s wrong with you?”

“The latter.”

I gnaw on my lip, more upset than I have a right to be. I’m confused too, because I’m not exactly sure why I care. Knockoff Teddy was just a fling, that’s all. It’s not like I expected or wanted more from him. Hell, I’m the one who ditched him. I’m the one who didn’t even give him a chance to ask for more, or even so much as my number.

But… why is that? Why didn’t I even let him take me to a real dinner when he asked?

Because better safe than sorry, right? Or maybe what I really mean is it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Except there’s another saying in twenty-something dating. It’s better to have loved and taken the hell off before he doesn’t call. Okay, fine, that’s not an actual saying.

That’s my fear talking.

I was scared. That’s the truth of the matter. Scared that Teddy felt like something real. Like someone real. So instead of risking my heart and giving him even half a chance, I used him for sex and bolted.

’Tis the season to act like a dick.

But I was right, wasn’t I? He’s not heart-worthy material. What kind of man lets you spend an entire day thinking he’s someone he’s not? Huh? What about that? I want to slide the vindication of my righteousness over my shoulders like a puffy down parka, but it’s not fitting as well as I’d expected. It’s kinda tight, as if I misjudged my size. As if I accidentally picked out a parka in the children’s department. Which I might have, because I acted like a child.

Or maybe… possibly… my love-shielding parka doesn’t fit as well as it once did.

Maybe it doesn’t fit because I’m wearing a thick sweater of regret under it. A heavy cable-knit yarn of what-if.

Maybe I should have taken a chance. Let him take me to dinner. Let him kiss me good night on my doorstep and given him the chance to call and ask me out again. See where it led instead of being so sure I knew where we’d end up. Given him the chance to break my heart, because maybe, just maybe, it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

“Well, that was quite the Christmas feel-good story, Noel. Thank you.” Jillian stands and brushes the crumbs off of her lap and onto my office floor. Normally this would irritate the hell out of me but I’m so distracted I let it slide.

Distracted because I’d really like to see Knockoff Teddy again.

Too bad I have no idea who he is.

CHAPTER 9

“I  totally fucked up.”

Surprisingly, those words aren’t coming out of my mouth.

My sister Holly asked me to meet her for lunch. I haven’t seen her in over a week because she was out of the country on a business trip with her hot boss. She claims he’s a grade-A+ certified Grinch, but she also texted me while they were on that business trip and told me she slept with him so she’s either a terrible judge of character or she’s got a thing for assholes.

I mean, obviously she was lying to herself. Or confused. I wonder if that’s genetic? It’s slightly mollifying to know I’m not the only screwup in love. The thing is, those Disney movies made it look a lot easier than it is. If I were in a Disney movie, Knockoff Teddy would simply reappear with a glass slipper and I’d be the only girl in Reindeer Falls who wore a size eight in glass slippers and that’d be that.

“With Nick,” Holly continues. “I really messed up, but I fixed it. You can fix this too, Noel.”

“Um, big difference, Holly, you knew where to find Nick. I don’t know where to find Knockoff Teddy.”

I’ve already told her the entire sad, sordid tale.

Wait though.

Knockoff Teddy is kinda like Prince Charming in the Cinderella story. You know, if Cinderella and Prince Charming had had a really sexy tryst before Cindy ran off? And then Cindy realized she was an idiot for running away so she went back and apologized instead of making Prince Charming search the entire kingdom for her.

Except Cinderella knew who Prince Charming was and knew where she could find him on account of attending the ball at his castle.

So this is really nothing like that. The point is, I could search for Knockoff Teddy.

If I could get a picture from Saturday, I could ask around, see if anyone knows who he is. Then I could track him down and apologize and ask him if he wants to kiss again.

“I’ve gotta go,” I announce to Holly, already rising from my seat.

“Uh, where?” Holly looks unimpressed. I can’t really blame her, we met at the North Pole Café for lunch and she’s not even done with her sandwich yet. But now that I realize what I need to do I can’t waste any more time.

“I’m going to find Knockoff Teddy. Wish me luck!”

THE FIRST THING I do is run down to the Reindeer Falls Photo Studio. They’re the photographers we used for photos with Santa at the Library. I just need to get a picture of Knockoff Teddy and show it around. Sure, it’s not ideal that he’s got a fake beard taped to his face in these photos, and a fake Santa belly. And a hat. And the Santa glasses. But surely someone will recognize him under all that. It’s Christmas, after all, and anything is possible at Christmas.

Getting the photo is a bit trickier than I anticipated. Apparently photo studios think it’s weird when tell them you’re there to pick up a photo of Santa and you don’t particularly care which kid is in the photo.

I know, I should have thought that through before going in.

Photo secured, I race over to the library. The photographer was a bust, by the way. He had no idea who Santa was.

Neither does the librarian.

Nor does the butcher, the baker or the candlestick maker. No, really. I ask Tom, the town butcher. And my sister Ginger, the baker. And then I stop by the Jack Frost Candle Company and ask the girl working the register.

No one knows.

It’s possibly the most embarrassing afternoon of my life.

Admittedly the photo isn’t a lot to go on. It’s harder than you’d think to identify someone wearing a disguise. Or maybe it’s exactly as hard as you’d think.

I even circle back to the North Pole Café to ask if they remember me being in over the weekend and if anyone knows who I was with. No and no. That conversation is even more awkward than it sounds.

Finding Knockoff Teddy is going to require a Christmas miracle.

CHAPTER 10

“I  heard you had a nice weekend.”

I look up to find Mrs Carrington grinning at me. It’s bridge day for the seniors’ club at the community center and I, for one, am relieved.

Relieved because surely Mrs Carrington is not about to make a joke about my banging Santa.

Surely.

Unlike everyone else in my life.

Having sisters is both a blessing and a curse. Sure, they’re always there for you. But they’re always there to mock you too.

“Hey, I heard Mr Owens has a buy-one-get-one free coupon for the Honey Jam Café and he’s looking for someone to accompany him to dinner tonight.” I raise my eyebrows suggestively, hoping she bites. I already gave Mr Owens the coupon and suggested it was Mrs Carrington’s favorite restaurant. And pointed out that the coupon expires today.

The Honey Jam Café doesn’t even have a buy-one-get-one free coupon. I went on my own lunch hour and convinced the manager to go along with my scheme, then spent twenty minutes making a fake coupon on my laptop to hand off to Mr Owens.

I’d really hate for all my hard work to go to waste. Besides, it’s never too late to find love, right? Be it the first time, the second time, or the tenth time. There’s no such thing as too much love. And I’m positive there’s a spark there. I think they just need a little shove in the right direction.

And then, who knows? Everyone deserves a happy ending. They might find one with each other.

“A buy-one-get-one-free coupon for the Honey Jam Café?” Mrs Carrington doesn’t look as impressed as I’d expected. I could have sworn it was her favorite restaurant.

“Doesn’t that sound lovely?” I push.

“I suppose it sounds all right,” she hedges. “But I was going to have dinner with my grandson today.”

“Surely he won’t mind rescheduling. The coupon expires today. And it’s a limited-edition coupon.” I nod my head very seriously to make up for the fact that I sound like an idiot. A limited-edition coupon? For fuck’s sake.

“Oh, dear. The expiring limited-edition coupon.” Mrs Carrington places a hand at the base of her throat, eyes widening ever so slightly. She’s got a stack of bracelets on that jangle with the movement. Mrs Carrington is the type of woman who is always put together. Hair styled, makeup applied, her signature stack of bracelets on. She’s also wearing a bright red cardigan today. The perfect Christmassy date outfit.

I nod again, face straight. I deserve an award for not cracking under the pressure.

“Shoot, it’s just that I have the same limited-edition coupon. Expiring today,” she adds with a rueful smile. Like hey, what can she do? She can’t control these make-believe limited-edition expiring coupons any more than I can. “So my grandson will have to come with.”

Gah. She’s gonna ruin this date with Mr Owens before it’s even begun. Why are people so stubborn when you’re only trying to help?

“You can’t bring your grandson on the date, Mrs Carrington. They’re buy-one-get-one free coupons. Besides, three’s a bit of a crowd, don’t you think?”

“I agree. That’s why you’re coming too. So we’ll have four. And we’ll get two tables.” Then she winks at me.

Yeah. I just got played by a grandma.

The surprises just keep coming because not a moment later I turn around and run smack into none other than Knockoff Teddy himself.

CHAPTER 11

“T  eddy?” It’s one of those comical run-ins like you’d see in a movie. I actually turn around and walk straight into him, complete with the ‘oof’ departing my mouth and his hands steadying my forearms so I don’t topple over. “I mean Not Teddy. I mean, um, hi.”

“Noel.” He smiles at me, still holding onto my arms.

“This is my grandson Theo,” Mrs Carrington is saying beside us. “He hasn’t let anyone call him Teddy since he was in grade school.”

Theo… Teddy. I replay our first meeting in my mind. The way he shrugged and said, “Sure,” when I called him Teddy. Because I was close enough and he just decided to roll with it, I suppose.

“Noel can call me Teddy,” he says now, not taking his eyes off of me. And oh, holy hell, why is that making me feel things? Crazy things. Noel can call me Teddy. It’s nothing, really. But somehow… it’s everything. The tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at me, the permission to call him something no one else does.

Ugh, that’s stupid, right? To feel some weird secret thrill over that?

Wait.

Grandson?

“Teddy is your grandson?” I feel the need to repeat it, to clarify beyond all confusion this time, before he gets away from me again.

Yeah, yeah. I know technically I’m the one who ran away the first time. Don’t be a shrew about it.

“Yes, my grandson. The one you’re having dinner with tonight.” Mrs Carrington smiles triumphantly, clearly quite pleased with herself at finally arranging this setup.

Little does she know, we’re just a little past a setup. And now I’m blushing. Like Rudolph’s nose on a foggy night kind of blushing.

“Theo, I hate to leave you on your own for dinner but Noel has set me up on a date with Mr Owens and, well, she’s put in so much effort creating a fake coupon and finagling the entire thing it seems like it’d be a shame to waste all her matchmaking efforts.”

This time I place my fingertips on my cheeks, as if I might be able to judge how red they are by feeling them.

“I did no such thing. Just a gentle nudge,” I mutter, because I’m mostly speaking to myself at this point.

“Isn’t Mr Owens the one who stopped over on Saturday?” Teddy questions. “When you got me out of the house by sending me to the library to return your books?”

Oh, my God. Wait. They’re already a thing? Her and Mr Owens? She’s been playing me this entire time, hasn’t she? I turn an incredulous glare at Mrs Carrington.

“What?” She shrugs, clearly unbothered by her treachery. “So we’ve been out a few times already. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your efforts.” She turns her attention to Teddy. “And you, don’t think I didn’t notice you missed breakfast the following morning. Pictures with Santa ended at seven.”

Teddy laughs, like his grandma teasing him about being out all night is normal banter for them.

“You two run along and have a nice dinner. I think Warren’s got a real coupon for the restaurant at the Bavarian Inn so that’s where we’re headed.” With a pleased smile Mrs Carrington leaves and I’m left with Teddy.

He turns to me, a confused expression on his face.

“Who exactly did you think I was?”

Right. That.

CHAPTER 12

He seems a little bit incredulous, which is fair. Maybe a hint irritated, which is also fair. We’ve left the community center and gone to the Honey Jam Café for dinner because fake limited-edition coupon or not, who doesn’t want pancakes for dinner?

“I thought you were my co-worker’s brother.” I fidget in my seat while playing with a straw wrapper. “He was supposed to show up to put on the Santa suit and then you walked in looking at me like you knew me.” I stop fidgeting and shoot him a challenging look as I lean back against the booth seat. “Which is a super-reasonable assumption if you think about it.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, staring at me, a small smile playing at his lips. “At what point did you figure out I wasn’t your co-worker’s brother?” I think he might actually find this snafu amusing.

“On Monday.” I let out a little grunt of a sigh. This is so embarrassing. “When I arrived at work and Jillian rushed into my office apologizing about her brother standing me up for pictures with Santa.”

“Hmm.” Another murmur. He’s rubbing two fingers across his lips while he watches me. “And what is it you thought you knew about me? Based on thinking I was your co-worker’s brother.”

“I thought you were jobless and living in your parents’ basement. And an incorrigible flirt incapable of commitment.”

“Well, that guy sounds charming.”

I nod. Yup. I bet I sound pretty charming right about now too.

“And what is it that you think you know about me based on what you’ve heard about me from my grandmother?”

“Well, your grandmother thinks that you’re the cat’s meow. She also thinks you need a wife.” I raise my brows and give him a little smirk.

“I do.”

“Oh, wow.” I drop the straw wrapper, fascinated by this development. Placing my palms on the table, I lean in, lowering my voice just a tad. “Do you have some kind of weird family inheritance you can only get if you’ve procured a wife and an heir by a certain age? I love that kind of nonsense in a romance novel but I wasn’t sure it still happened in real life. Or ever happened in real life, actually. How much time do you have left? Do you need the money for something really important like keeping your business open through the holidays? Tell. Me. Everything.” I punctuate my last words with the importance they deserve then wiggle my fingers before clasping them together in eager anticipation.

Teddy laughs good-naturedly, a smile covering his face. “Not like that. Obviously.”

“Bummer.”

“Doesn’t everyone want to find their person, Noel? The one they can tell all their secrets to?”

He leans in when he says it, his eyes on mine. His gaze is warm and sexy and intimate. Like he might be inviting me to tell him all my secrets, forever.

The waitress arrives with our pancakes and I distract myself with my fork, digging a hole into the center of the stack so I can eat the best part first. I might also be buying some time while I recover from the whirlwind to my guarded heart.

“So you were just at the library to return your grandmother’s books and I forced you into a Santa suit. Is that the gist of it? Why on earth did you go along with it?”

“I don’t know.” He waves a piece of bacon in the air between us. “Your vibe was really doing it for me and once I started talking to you I didn’t want to leave.”

“My vibe?” I’m dumbfounded. I’m pretty sure my vibe is cantankerous harridan.

“You were sexy as hell standing there tapping your foot as you sighed and looked at your watch every five seconds.”

“Impatience is a turn-on for you?”

“It is when it’s you. So much attitude packed into that sexy turtleneck you were wearing.” I roll my eyes before he can continue. “Besides, once I figured out who you were I thought perhaps my grandma had volunteered me to help out. Since you were so intent on sticking me in that Santa suit and my grandmother had been so intent on singing your praises to me every chance she got.”

“You were a very good sport, all things considered.”

“I really was.”

We’re quiet for a few moments while I stuff pancakes into my mouth as Teddy stares at me from across the table, but with a thoughtful expression instead of being horrified by the amount of maple syrup I’ve swirled into the melting butter crater in the middle of my pancake stack.

I mean, the thing is, he’s already seen me naked so there’s no point worrying about my figure now when there are pancakes to be consumed.

“Listen, I know that you were trying to one-night-stand me—” Teddy starts but I interrupt him before he can finish.

“I wasn’t!” I object, already shaking my head. But I was. I totally tried to one-night-stand him.

“You left your own house in order to avoid me,” he reminds me, brows raised in amused exasperation. “That was…” He trails off as if searching for the right word.

Crazy. Cowardly. Insane. Take your pick.

“Honestly a move I’ve never seen before, you little nutcase.”

I shrug. It wasn’t my finest moment. I think we can all agree.

“But I want more than that.”

“More?” Me too, is what I really want to say. Me too, me too, me too. I want more of him. More of us together. I want to tell him that I’ve never felt the way I feel when I’m around him. But I don’t, because it’s too soon, too crazy. Even crazier than having a one-night stand with a man you just met based on great chemistry and sexy eyes and his insistence that he finds you sexy. Crazier than ditching that same guy in your house like a little coward. So instead I stare at him with my heart beating a mile a minute, wondering where exactly this conversation is going.

“With you.”

The silence hangs between us. I think he’s waiting for me to respond, but my mind is moving faster than an agitated snow globe at the moment. “You want a long-distance relationship with a girl you had a one-night stand with?”

“No.”

Oh. Oh, God. He just wants to vacation-hookup me. Crap. I want more than that. I deserve more than that, even if it is scary. I’ve made so many mistakes in relationships. Picked the wrong guys. Expected too much, or too little. But I want more now. I deserve more.

“I want us to spend the rest of the month getting to know each other. Dating.”

“I’m terrible at dating,” I warn—or object, I’m not even sure which I’m doing, but he should probably know.

“I don’t care.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were terrible at dating before you met me. This is me and you, Noel. And we are going to be good together.” He grins. “Also I’m going to deadbolt the door when we have sleepovers so you can’t run away.”

I bite my lip between my teeth to keep from smiling. “We barely know each other.”

“No one knows anyone before they know them.”

“That was a mouthful.”

“What I mean is, you have to start somewhere, Noel. If you want to know someone, you have to start somewhere. Every day you choose who you want to spend time with. Who you want to know better and who is worthy of your time. I want to invest my time in us.”

Us.

I really like the sound of that.

“What happens when the holidays end and you have to go home?” I’m not sure why I’m even asking, because we’ll figure it out. Here or there, I want to be wherever Teddy is. I want to fill in all the things I don’t know about him with the things I do. And I know I can’t predict the future, I don’t know what will happen. But I know I want to.

“I’ll move to Reindeer Falls. I can work from anywhere.”

“Teddy, that’s insane.” I realize my fork is hanging in midair and I’m not even sure how long it’s been dangling there, a buttery heap of pancakes about to slide off and hit the table. I set the fork down and rub my hands against my thighs. “We barely even know each other. And can you even do that? Just leave your job? Your life in the city?”

“I can, actually. Besides, this is home.” He glances around the café we’re in and then out the window we’re sitting next to. It’s dark outside, so it feels more like midnight even though it’s only five thirty p.m. That’s Michigan in December for you. It’s started to snow, visible beneath the parking lot lights. Swirling gusts of snow blowing sideways that make being inside and warm even cozier than before. “There’s no place like home, right?”

EPILOGUE

O ne Year Later…

Christmas Eve

“THE THING IS, I don’t think he’s ever going to propose.” I toss my hands up in the air in annoyance. “Mr Of Course I Need a Wife doesn’t actually want one.” I’m referring to my boyfriend, Teddy. My boyfriend who hasn’t proposed yet.

And yeah, yeah, fine. I know it’s only been a year, but when you know you know. And I knew a year ago. Now I’m just impatient.

“Noel, you’ve literally been dating for fifty-three weeks. I don’t think it’s time to panic about Teddy’s commitment level quite yet.” This is from Ginger.

Ginger, who was engaged by Valentine’s Day.

I turn and glare at her with all the disdain you can level on a pregnant woman. She’s due in five months and she’s got the most adorable baby bump you’ve ever seen in your life.

And a husband. She’s got that too. Because after Keller proposed in record time, he married her and knocked her up. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.

“You don’t get an opinion,” I remind her. “Since you’re blissfully domesticated you’re incapable of being objective.”

“Yup,” Holly agrees with me a moment before stuffing a bite of toast into her mouth and chewing. We’re at a corner table at Gingersnap’s, the restaurant Ginger’s husband opened next door to her bakery. The one he named after Ginger.

Ugh. Totally happy for them. Obviously. Not at all jealous.

“You’re the worst,” Holly agrees when she’s done chewing. “No opinion for you.”

Holly’s got the nerve to say this while eating toast with the same hand displaying her own engagement ring. I drop a pointed gaze to the ring and then back to Holly’s face. She at least has the decency to look chagrined.

“You know that just happened,” she protests, referring to her own engagement. Nick proposed a week ago. The ring was in an Advent calendar he made for her, stuck behind the door of the date of their one-year anniversary.

I know. Gross. Gross in a that-didn’t-happen-to-me-but-I’m-totally-happy-for-you-oh-my-God-how-romantic way.

I sigh, mentally chastising myself. The thing is, I am happy for both of my sisters. I really, really am. I just sorta thought Teddy might propose on our own one-year anniversary. But that date came and went last week.

“All I’m saying is, it feels like it’s been forever.” I know it hasn’t actually been forever. I know that a year is no time at all and I shouldn’t compare my relationship to anyone else’s. Especially not to Ginger and Keller, who moved at warp speed. Ginger and Keller are too ridiculous to even account for. I mean, sure, I might have fallen in love with my one-night stand, but we didn’t actually exchange “I love yous” for like… an entire week. And we weren’t engaged six weeks later.

As crazy as the start of our relationship was, every day since has been pretty normal. We’ve put in the work. Gotten to know each other. And I like him more every day than I did the day before. Truly. He’s my best friend. And he’s also really good in bed.

Ugh, now who’s gross? Me.

I’ve got it really good. I need to shelve my impatience.

“Why are you obsessing over this all of a sudden?” Holly asks, dumping a spot of cream into a freshly poured cup of coffee. She twirls her spoon through and taps it against the side of the cup, then raises her gaze to mine, waiting on an answer.

“I don’t even know.” I slump back in the booth, crossing my arms over my chest. Because I agree with her, it hasn’t been an issue at all, up until the last week. “I think it’s the holidays, you know? I think the holidays have made me engagement-horny.”

“Do you need a Countdown-to-Dickmas calendar? I’d be happy to make you one,” Holly offers, all wide-eyed and innocent.

“No, I get plenty of Dickmas, thank you very much,” I toss back at her. We’re sisters, giving each other grief is our jobs.

“Ugh, you guys. The baby can hear you.” Ginger wrinkles her nose at the two of us disapprovingly while Holly and I groan in unison.

“This place is hopping,” I comment with a glance around Gingersnaps. They managed to get the old auto shop renovated into a restaurant and bakery in just under nine months, and had their dual grand opening two months ago.

“It is.” Ginger beams. All her dreams have come to fruition. She found her dream man and opened her dream bakery. And now she’s got a bun in the oven. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. We’ve made so many bun-in-the-oven jokes Ginger has banned us from saying any more out loud.

“Doing so well,” Ginger continues. “And the Food Network hasn’t even started airing our show yet. That’ll bring in a load of tourists during the summer and winter seasons in Reindeer Falls.”

In addition to making them the new hosts of The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off, the Food Network also filmed an eight-episode series of Ginger and Keller renovating their auto shop into a bake shop, which I’m sure will do well for them because Ginger and Keller have a ton of chemistry on camera. And off.

Speaking of… Keller appears at our table to check on Ginger. He’s working today—they both are, actually, but Ginger took off early in order to have lunch with Holly and me. He kisses her before he leaves the table because they’re that couple. Kissy kissy. When they leave here they’re probably gonna hold hands and make snow angels together or something equally adorable. Holly reaches past them to grab an extra napkin from the end of the table and gives me a little eye roll with a head nod towards the newlyweds.

“How’s your Grinch?” I ask Holly.

“Deliciously Grinchy,” she responds, a wide grin covering her face. “I honestly cannot believe I ever thought his grumpy office persona was off-putting. Now I find it very sexy.”

“I’m sure you do, you little freak.”

“Whatever. I’m not the one who kissed Santa Claus.”

“Yeah, yeah, that will never get old for you, will it?”

Okay, so I’ll never ever admit this to either of my sisters, but Teddy and I might have had a slightly kinky reenactment of our first night together. Except I was the one in the Santa suit and the Santa suit consisted mostly of strategically placed ribbons, a belt and some furry white cuffs around my wrists.

I’m a really good girlfriend.

Total wife material.

Never mind. I’m not dwelling on that. I’m not.

I part ways with my sisters outside of Gingersnap’s with quick hugs and a chorus of “see you tomorrows.” Our parents are hosting Christmas dinner tomorrow. Tonight I’m celebrating Christmas Eve with Teddy’s family at his grandmother’s house. She’s already made me a stocking with my name on it. I haven’t seen it yet, but she told me about it. You know those really cool needlepoint stockings that grandmas make by hand? One of those. Teddy’s stocking is a teddy bear on account of it being made for him when he was born. Mine has a reindeer on it, because Mrs Carrington said I brought Teddy’s heart back to Reindeer Falls.

Gah, it’s so sappy I can hardly stand it.

By which I mean I love it. I’ve always secretly hoped I’d marry into a family that had a really cool stocking tradition. And honestly, I’m already a part of the family. Teddy and I have dinner with his family at least once a month. Mrs Carrington insisted I start calling her Gram over six months ago. Plus, I have that homemade stocking, which is very nearly as legally binding as an actual marriage certificate. Everyone knows those stockings are no joke.

Teddy’s already at my place when I get home. Truth be told, he very nearly lives with me because he’s over every night. Technically he has a place of his own but he mostly uses it as an office and a closet. He sleeps at my place every night before heading to his place in the morning when I leave for work.

When I walk in, he stands, and I think he shoves something into his pocket but honestly, it might just be my overactive imagination or Teddy checking for his cell phone. It might not be anything important. Before him he’s got a mess of wrapping paper and ribbon on the table. I thought we’d wrapped everything weeks ago.

“What are you doing?” I shrug out of my coat and hang it on a hook near the door, toeing off my boots before I make my way over to the table.

There are a stack of presents wrapped, and a few unwrapped. I spy a puzzle and an art set, not yet wrapped, amongst the pile.

“Picked up a few extra things for my nieces,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.

“Hmm,” I murmur, sinking into his embrace. Loving the warm cuddle after coming in from outside. Loving him. He’s a big softie for those kids. It’s another of the many things I adore about this man.

“Teddy Carrington, are you hiding something from me in your pants?” Gah! I was going to be patient, I really really was.

“I’d never hide anything in my pants from you.” He kisses the top of my head and moves back a few inches, hands moving to his waistband. “Want me to take them off?” he teases, hands on the button, his eyes flashing in amusement. I love his eyes too. He always looks at me like he really sees me. Like he’s paying attention.

“We don’t have time for you to take off your pants,” I say sadly with a glance at the clock.

“I guess you’ll just have to be patient then, won’t you?”

I slow-blink at him. Like… patient for sex or patient for the diamond ring he’s hiding in his pocket?

He laughs like he knows exactly what’s going through my head.

We load the car with a pile of presents and the gingerbread cheesecake I picked up this morning from Ginger’s Bake Shop for tonight’s dessert. It’s in a pink bakery box tied with red and white twine for a little holiday oomph.

Christmas Eve with Teddy’s family is loud and fun and everything I expected. I’ve met most of them, but I’m introduced to a few new faces, uncles and cousins I’d not had a chance to meet before. His grandmother, Mrs Carrington, is the perfect hostess. There’s enough food to feel us all several times over along with a cheery house full of Christmas splendor.

And at the end of it, there’s an engagement.

His grandmother’s.

To Mr Owens. It’s quite romantic actually. He proposes to her in front of the entire family after giving a speech about how much joy she’s brought to him and how happy he is to have her in his life.

She says yes.

Champagne is popped—sparkling cider for the littles—and I’m glad to have been there to witness it.

“I’m quite sure you’re next,” she whispers to me later, as Teddy is warming up the car. He always does that for me, scrapes all the snow and warms the car up before coming back to walk me to the passenger door like a fairy-tale princess.

I’m quite sure I’m next too, because I’m not actually a fairy-tale princess and I’m more than capable of doing the asking.

“I HEARD ABOUT THIS THING,” I mention that night in bed. It’s dark and quiet in that way the world only ever is on Christmas.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“So hear me out,” I begin. We’re snuggled under my sheets, flannels with festive Christmas gnomes, and a thick comforter.

“Okay.” Teddy’s lip twitches in the light of my bedroom Christmas tree.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world too.” He flashes a warm smile, twining our fingers together under the blankets.

“Well, as luck would have it, there’s a way we can be legally bound to each other. Forever. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Man, I’m really selling this.

“It’s more like a paperwork thing,” I interject, before I scare him off, “versus some kind of weird ritualistic ceremony.”

Err. No. That’s not right either. It actually is a bit of a weird ritualistic ceremony.

“The point is,” I continue, “the paperwork exists with which we could make that happen.”

“Huh, no kidding?”

He says it without a trace of sarcasm, as if this is a genuine revelation to him. I turn to face the ceiling so I can properly side-eye him.

“Ask me to tell you a secret, Noel.”

Ah, our favorite game.

“Tell me a secret. Unless it’s that you’re afraid of legal commitment or have made a previously undisclosed pact with a bunch of buddies from college not to get married until you’re forty.”

“I’m in love with you,” he says, tracing my bottom lip with his finger.

“Not a secret.” I shake my head.

“I wanted to ask you to marry me last Christmas.”

“When we’d known each other a week?” I turn back in his direction, curious.

“Oddly, you had me at ‘put on the Santa suit,’ so yeah.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to rush you though all the fun dating stuff, all our firsts as a couple, just because I couldn’t wait to put a ring on it.”

I bite my lip. I did really enjoy all those firsts.

“But if you’re that impatient…” He trails off with the sexiest grin he’s ever had.

“I am.”

“I had a much bigger thing planned, you know. It involved me on one knee and the whole bit.”

“It’s okay, I quite like you horizontally.”

Teddy laughs, and then he produces a ring from I don’t even know where. I think he had it under his pillow the entire time.

“Marry me.”

“Teddy Carrington, the only thing I ever wanted for Christmas was you.”

“So that’s a yes?” he asks, smiling as he slides the ring onto my finger.

“Ask me to tell you a secret.” I’m smiling so big I have to bite my lip to contain it.

“Tell me a secret, Noel.”

“It’s been a yes since last Christmas.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed Reindeer Falls! If you’d like to read more from me I’d suggest my WRONG series, which are currently in Kindle Unlimited for a LIMITED time. Flip the page for a book description or CLICK HERE to grab it now.

HAVE YOU MET DR MILLER?

I have a history of picking the wrong guy. Gay? Player? Momma’s boy? Check, check and check.

Now I can’t stop fantasizing about one of the customers at the coffee shop I work at between classes. It’s just a harmless crush, right? It’s not like I ever see this guy outside of the coffee shop. It’s not like I’m going to see him while attempting to get birth control at the student clinic. While wearing a paper gown. While sitting on an exam table. Because he’s the doctor. Shoot. Me.

But what if, for once, the man I’ve had the dirtiest, most scandalous fantasies about turned out to be everything but wrong?

Wrong (Wrong Series #1)

Right (Wrong Series #2)

Fling (Wrong Series #3)

Trust (Wrong Series #4)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I’d like to thank the Starbucks in Darien, IL for allowing me to sit for hours and hours like a total weirdo. Look, I think it’s weird too, and I’d bounce around to different locations to make it less weird but you’re the only Bucks nearby with the comfy bench seating and the good windows.

Plus you’ve got not one but TWO Pokemon stops I can spin from that seat. *shrugs*

Signed,

That lady sitting on the bench seat who never speaks & mostly orders from the mobile app while already in the store before scurrying back to her seat.

ALSO BY JANA ASTON

Wrong (Wrong Series #1)

Right (Wrong Series #2)

Fling (Wrong Series #3)

Trust (Wrong Series #4)

Good Girl (Good Girl Book #1)

Good Time (Good Girl Book #2)

Sure Thing (Best Laid Plans #1)

Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)

Times Square

THE REINDEER FALLS COLLECTION

The Boss Who Stole Christmas

If You Give A Jerk A Gingerbread

The One Night Stand Before Christmas

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jana Aston likes cats, big coffee cups and books about billionaires who deflower virgins. She wrote her debut novel while fielding customer service calls about electrical bills, and she's ever grateful for the fictional gynecologist in Wrong that readers embraced so much she was able to make working in her pajamas a reality. Jana’s novels have appeared on the NYT, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestsellers list, some multiple times. She likes multiples.

If you’re on Facebook, I have a private readers group. I’d love for you to join us… Grind Me Cafe

Table of Contents

Title Page

Full Page Image

Copyright

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Have you met Dr Miller?

Acknowledgements

Also by Jana Aston

The Reindeer Falls Collection

About the Author