Page 87 of Santa Daddies

“You can say that again,” Stu said, which, of course, had Grant doing exactly that.

“Whoa! Isn’t that um… interesting?”

“Are those… they are! Emma, look at all the piggies!”

“There’s so many!” Chloe declared.

I forgot all about Leo as I heard Jenna squeal, followed by a rush of garbled cries from her fellow Littles.

“I know!” Marcie declared as if she had no clue what was about to happen.

For Pete’s sake. I never considered I’d have to declare the dining room off limits. Marcie had to have known we’d be entertaining. Leo and I practically got stuck in the doorway as he also headed out of the kitchen. By the time we’d disentangled ourselves, we were the last to arrive.

“Marcella Louise McKinley, was I not crystal clear on what I expected you to do with all those pigs? Did I honestly need to tell you not…” I began sternly and then pulled up short. Instead of the piles of boxes I’d expected to find, I was met by my guests all gathered around the table which was beautifully set. Though, I suppose that depended upon rather one’s definition of “beautifully” included a tablescape featuring pink piggies.

“Yes, Santa Daddy? Do you like it?”

The tiny tilt of her lip and the gleam in her eye let me know she knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.

“It’s just too perfect,” Emma exclaimed. “Look, Daddy, he’s giving her a bath!”

“I see, sweetness.” Phillips crouched down beside his Little to let her show him the place settings.

Every piece of cutlery was carefully balanced on the backs of a pair of pink pigs. In the center of each charger plate stood a napkin that had been folded into a rectangle. Inside, a pig was placed with his hooves pointing skyward as if he were indeed soaking in his trough. One corner of the napkin had been placed at the front hooves of another pig, who’d use the “washcloth” to bathe his little pig friend. Running in a line down the center of the table were vases with bouquets made from additional napkins, folded like flowers, several petals serving as platforms for yet more pigs. Poinsettia flowers had been scattered at the base of the vases, more pig snouts peeking up from the blooms.

“It’s very artistic,” Leo said.

“It’s beautiful, babygirl,” I said, which turned that tilted lip into a full-blown smile as my Little wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned against me.

“Thank you, I figured that the least I could do is show you that I’m not a total idiot.”

“Careful there, little girl, or I’ll have to ruin this beautiful moment by smacking your ass. You are not and have never oncebeen, nor will you ever be, an idiot so just throw that into the slop bucket and don’t ever even think that again, understood?”

She wrapped her other arm around me and squeezed tight. “I love you, Austin James Carey, aka my Santa Daddy.”

“I love you too, Marcie Louise McKinley.”

Sparkling green eyes looked up at me and she giggled. “Another good save, Daddy.”

I laughed and then shouted, “Bread!”

What happens when six Bigs and a half dozen Littles all try to get out of one room at the same time?

Chaos, that’s what.

“Knots are burning!”

“No! Not the knots! Save them!”

“Oof, you’re stepping on me!”

“RED!”

What happens when one highly intelligent woman assesses the situation and takes control?

Immediate order, that’s what.

Everyone froze in place at the shouted safeword and then very calmly made a pathway for me to pass. To everyone’s immense relief, the bread was only a little more golden than I’d planned. As I tucked each knot into the baskets, Tilda directed traffic. Leo sliced and served slabs of lasagna while Grant ensured that each Little’s plate included a proper-sized serving of salad, reminding those who grumbled that only Littles who ate vegetables also got to eat cheesecake.