Page 126 of Santa Daddies

Santa Daddy 2

By Allysa Hart and Rayanna Jamison

Prologue

Crystal

Once upon a time, a man in a Santa suit poofed himself into my apartment, magically upended me over his knee and started blathering on about how Mrs. Claus can’t be on the naughty list, and worse than that, Mrs. Claus cannot, absolutely must not be an unbeliever.

And like any sane twenty-something who found herself going from drinking a glass of wine and cuddling her yappy dog while watching a TV show, to that position in a blink of an eye, would, I called the cops. In any other timeline, that would have been the end of the story.

Instead, the man—who turned out to be Santa, for real—charmed the cops into leaving and announced that he had two weeks to turn me into a believer and make me his Mrs. Claus.

It only took him nine days. Call it Christmas magic.

It took another day for us to fully move from my modest apartment in Las Vegas and settle into our mini mansion in the majestic, snow-covered North Pole and two days for me andMama Claus to plan a wedding only a little girl could ever dream of.

We’d gotten married on December 23rd, surrounded by snow and glitter and happy singing elves, right there at the North Pole.

It had been beautiful and even though my only guest was my work bestie, Marcus, it felt like I’d finally found my forever family. My true place in life. Who would have thought that the biggest Scrooge that ever lived would one day fully embrace her role as the future Mrs. Claus? Not me, that was for sure.

Settling into life at the North Pole was easier said than done. It was cold, really freaking cold, so going out was a whole affair and it was easy to feel a little stir-crazy without much to occupy my time. The excitement of not having to work wore off pretty quickly and I found myself often wishing for my old life. At least aspects of it. The different freedoms of it, for sure.

Sure, Yule said he could take me back to the city whenever I wanted, but I don’t think either of us realized what it was going to take for him to fully integrate to his role as Santa over the span of the year. He would leave after breakfast and usually not get home until dinner although he did surprise me around lunch time on occasion.

As lonely as I was, I was never even really alone. Helpers came in and out all day to do this or that or even just to spend time with me. It was nice and I really appreciated them all, but I found myself getting increasingly frustrated and antsy.

And getting antsy in the North Pole led to a lot more trouble than anyone could have ever expected.

Chapter One

December 11

Crystal

The magic Claus calendar sat open in front of me while I stared at it over my morning cocoa with marshmallows. I looked into my mug and sighed. The North Pole had the best cocoa I’d ever tasted, hands down, but I still missed coffee. Yule was still adamant that coffee wasn’t for Little girls, and even though I had to function as a grown-ass Mrs. Claus eighty percent of the time, he still insisted it was only for special occasions.

Today’s agenda was the usual pre-Christmas stuff. Make cookies for the elves’ lunch break, host a gift-wrapping workshop with Mama Claus, plus the usual chores that needed to be done to keep Santa’s workshop in tip-top shape. How could things be fun while being boring at the same time?

While I sipped my cocoa, the calendar started to glow bright yellow, its screen blinking at me every couple of seconds.

Gasping, I gripped my mug tighter and stared at it with furrowed brows. I’d heard of it glowing, of course, but I’d never seen it happen. It hadn’t even happened yesterday, for Yule’s fortieth birthday. I frowned as I looked at the glowing, blinkingpage. Or maybe it had. The whole North Pole had taken the day off to celebrate Yule’s birthday. We’d had cookies and cocoa flowing all day, a ton of visitors dropping by with even more goodies and well-wishes, and a party in the evening. The eggnog flowed and spirits had been merry and jolly all night long. Well, until the clock struck twelve anyway. Then the mess had cleaned itself up and everything went back to business as usual just like he was Cinderella instead of Santa.

Was the calendar blinking at me because it hadn’t been opened yesterday? I didn’t think it would do that.

December 11th. December 11th. December 11th.

I repeated the date over and over in my head as if repeating it would somehow unlock the answer to the mystery that was currently taking up all my brainspace.

December 11th. The day after Yule’s birthday…

“Oh Kringle Crap!” I hollered, jumping up as it finally hit me. I hit the bottom of the table with my thighs when I jumped, making it shake and tip, and knocking over my nearly empty cocoa mug. It clattered to the floor, and Dixie, who’d been napping at my feet, yelped and ran from the room.

“Sorry, Dix!” I yelled after her before grabbing a pile of napkins and mopping up the mess I’d made.

Once the mug was in the sink and the chocolatey napkins were in the trash, I found Dixie and gave her a cuddle before returning to look at the glowing calendar.

December 11th. The anniversary of the day a man claiming to be Santa had poofed into my apartment and forced his way into my heart.