Page 23
Story: Can't Miss Christmas
Okay, these small-town people were great, but this was getting a little ridiculous. Because he wanted to get out of here and make love to hiswife.
Something bumped Graham’s elbow. It was Santa, who still hadn’t taken off his suit or hat. The guy had to be baking under all those layers.
“We have a tradition in this bar at midnight,” Scott said.
“Scotty, you are such a bullshitter,” Drew Spikonos said. “He’s got a traditioneverynight at midnight. It helps him sell drinks.”
“Shut up, Spikonos,” Scott said. “Everyone needs someone to kiss to bring Christmas in.”
“What about you?” Drew asked.
“Are you volunteering?” Scott asked, and Drew made a face.
Graham wrapped his arm around Grace’s waist. “I’ve got my someone,” he said as she smiled and leaned closer to him. At least if they had to stay, he’d get a few kisses in.
“Okay, Santa old boy, pucker up!” Tiffany said, being a good sport about kissing the odd Santa. “But don’t get gropey, you hear?”
The old-fashioned cuckoo clock above the bar struck midnight. Snow fell heavily outside the fogged windows. And everywhere, couples young and old kissed. Graham gathered Grace in his arms and placed his lips close to her ear. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered. Then he kissed her, smooth and slow, enjoying the feel of her soft lips on his, and the way she fit perfectly in his arms. Where she belonged. He took his time because he wanted to get it right. He wanted it to be a Christmas kiss that was the most tender, wonderful, forgiving, and promising kiss she’d ever had. One for the ages.
Next to them, Santa seemed to really plant one on the young woman who ran the shelter. Afterward, she was breathing a little hard. She reached up and pulled off his once-again dangling white brow in one quick movement.
“You’re not old. You’re young.” She looked from the caterpillar-like brow in her palm to Santa’s face. “Do I—know you?”
“Looks like Santa’s looking for a happy ending too,” Graham said.
“Or at least a beginning,” Grace said.
“Merry Christmas, everybody,” Scott said as folks held up their drinks. “Good health, good cheer, and good friends to get you through.”
“Merry Christmas,” Graham called. “Hey!” he said to Grace, grinning widely. “Wonder if we won the lottery?” He held up the ticket from his pocket.
She slid it out of his hands, tore it in two, and let it fall to the floor. “We won the lottery, big guy. In every way that counts.” Then she kissed him again, and he had to agree that yes, he’d won the jackpot, all right. And he had a feeling that this was about to be the best Christmas ever.
Something bumped Graham’s elbow. It was Santa, who still hadn’t taken off his suit or hat. The guy had to be baking under all those layers.
“We have a tradition in this bar at midnight,” Scott said.
“Scotty, you are such a bullshitter,” Drew Spikonos said. “He’s got a traditioneverynight at midnight. It helps him sell drinks.”
“Shut up, Spikonos,” Scott said. “Everyone needs someone to kiss to bring Christmas in.”
“What about you?” Drew asked.
“Are you volunteering?” Scott asked, and Drew made a face.
Graham wrapped his arm around Grace’s waist. “I’ve got my someone,” he said as she smiled and leaned closer to him. At least if they had to stay, he’d get a few kisses in.
“Okay, Santa old boy, pucker up!” Tiffany said, being a good sport about kissing the odd Santa. “But don’t get gropey, you hear?”
The old-fashioned cuckoo clock above the bar struck midnight. Snow fell heavily outside the fogged windows. And everywhere, couples young and old kissed. Graham gathered Grace in his arms and placed his lips close to her ear. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered. Then he kissed her, smooth and slow, enjoying the feel of her soft lips on his, and the way she fit perfectly in his arms. Where she belonged. He took his time because he wanted to get it right. He wanted it to be a Christmas kiss that was the most tender, wonderful, forgiving, and promising kiss she’d ever had. One for the ages.
Next to them, Santa seemed to really plant one on the young woman who ran the shelter. Afterward, she was breathing a little hard. She reached up and pulled off his once-again dangling white brow in one quick movement.
“You’re not old. You’re young.” She looked from the caterpillar-like brow in her palm to Santa’s face. “Do I—know you?”
“Looks like Santa’s looking for a happy ending too,” Graham said.
“Or at least a beginning,” Grace said.
“Merry Christmas, everybody,” Scott said as folks held up their drinks. “Good health, good cheer, and good friends to get you through.”
“Merry Christmas,” Graham called. “Hey!” he said to Grace, grinning widely. “Wonder if we won the lottery?” He held up the ticket from his pocket.
She slid it out of his hands, tore it in two, and let it fall to the floor. “We won the lottery, big guy. In every way that counts.” Then she kissed him again, and he had to agree that yes, he’d won the jackpot, all right. And he had a feeling that this was about to be the best Christmas ever.