IVY
I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting from Nick's flat, but it wasn't the clean and spacious modern home I'd found myself in. The kitchen sparkled, but the way the gadgets were left kind of haphazardly across the side suggested that it was well used.
"You're not allergic to anything, are you?" Nick asked as he started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
"Strawberries," I responded.
"Good to know."
"I hope that's not going to be a problem."
He shook his head. "I only eat them when they're in season, they're just disappointing otherwise."
"True. I always think I'm going to enjoy other fruits just as much in winter, but they're never as good."
He set down a bushel of tomatoes and pulled open a drawer, getting out a heavy-looking pan. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew his way around the kitchen, and it was nice to be able to watch him, especially when the muscles in his arms flexed.
My dress wasn't the perfect choice for a date, but it was better than the elf costume, and I was certainly grateful Nick was no longer wearing the Santa suit.
He'd looked good in it because he always looked good, but it would have felt wrong to be checking him out in it.
Logically, I knew that it didn't make a difference if he was wearing the suit or not, he was still the same person.
But there was no real logic to be had, not when I could still imagine the echo of his touch between my legs.
I shifted in my seat, trying not to think about it too much. We were supposed to be having dinner.
"Is there anything I can do?" I half-blurted out, desperate to do something other than sit and stare at him.
"You could chop the tomatoes if you want?" he suggested.
"Great. Sounds good." I hopped off my seat and went to examine the knife rack so I could find the perfect blade to do that.
"Are you all right?" he asked, turning and bringing us very close together.
I looked up at him and swallowed hard. "I'm feeling a little flustered."
"If it's because of what happened in the workshop, then I'm sorry."
"What? I mean, why are you sorry? That was..." I searched for the right word, but there was really only one that would do. "Hot. It was hot."
His lips quirked up into a smile. "It was."
"So why are you sorry?"
"Because I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm not really sure what I wanted, I wasn't really thinking."
"I'm not that kind of flustered," I murmured, putting a hand on his chest.
"Ah." Understanding dawned on his face.
"But it's not fair to you if I'm sitting over there thinking all kinds of fun things while you're being sweet and cooking me dinner."
"I don't have a problem with it." From the expression on his face, I believed him. "But I can make you my sous-chef if you want."
"Please."
"Then you'll be needing this." He pulled an apron off a hook and held it out to me.
I laughed and held up the red apron with the words Cooking For Santa written over it. "You have a novelty Christmas apron?"
"Pieter got it for me, he found it funny that I was always cooking for Santa. I have another one too." He grabbed another one off the hook, put it over his head and tied it around him.
" Whisk you a Merry Christmas ?" I read, barely concealing my laughter.
"What? It's funny." He grinned.
"It's cute," I said, feeling something that was definitely more intense than just physical desire. "I just wouldn't have thought you were into this kind of thing."
He shrugged and put a chopping board down in front of me. "I wasn't at first. I hated everything about it because it took me far away from everything I was used to. Before it became about the presents, my job was mostly hosting Christmas feasts."
"Like the one last week?" I put my apron on and started slicing the tomatoes.
"Yes."
"How did a toymaker even get into that in the first place?"
"Because at one point I worked at court with the Master of Revels creating set pieces.
I'd been a toymaker for a hundred years or so and I wanted a change, but at that time, it wasn't as easy to change careers as it is now, so I did something that was adjacent to it, but not the same.
While I was there, I became the Lord of Misrule at court. "
I raised an eyebrow. "So you met royalty?"
He nodded. "A few times. But I never interacted with them much."
I finished dicing the tomatoes and slid the chopping board over to him. "What now?"
"Could you do the basil? It's in the bottom left drawer of the fridge."
I nodded and went to get it. "And then you went back to making toys?"
"Pretty much," he said. "I travelled around Europe for a bit too, until the mid-eighteen hundreds. That's where I met Pieter. He was a sweetmaker. When December came around, he'd go out and give sweets to children. The legends say he tosses them, but he'd never waste good sweets like that."
Ah. That must have been what he was giving to the children earlier.
"I can see how you became friends." It was similar to the way he was with toys. "Is he a god too?" I shouldn't ask, it was rude, but I was also curious.
Nick nodded. "But he became immortal after I did, so it's a more recent thing."
"Were you the one who made him immortal?"
Surprise showed on his face. "I didn't realise you knew that was how it worked."
"I don't know anything more about it," I responded. "Just that."
"It wasn't me. He was made immortal a few years before we met."
I nodded, thinking through everything he was telling me.
He slid some onions into the pan. It sizzled loudly.
"When I was ready to return home, he came with me.
It was a good thing he did, he's much better at the organisation of a business than I am, and everything was changing a lot by then with methods used to create toys.
And everything else too. I'm good at ideas and designing, not so good at the numbers needed to actually put it into practice.
We set up Cringle together, and have co-owned it ever since.
It was also his idea for us to invest in the railways when we did, which is where most of my money comes from. "
I raised an eyebrow. "Surprising."
"Perhaps."
"And it was after you came back from Europe that you met Annabelle and her mother?" I checked, setting down the basil now I'd finished tearing it.
"Yes." He stirred his onions. "Would you pass me the pepper?"
I picked up the grinder and held it out to him. He cracked it into the pot and added the tomatoes. I had no idea what he was making, but it already smelled great.
"That was when I really became Father Christmas. I didn't mind at first when it was just the local children, but then it started growing and growing. I started hating it because it moved away from what I was trying to do."
"What made you get back into the Christmas spirit?"
He left the pot and opened the fridge, pulling out a bag of fresh pasta.
"I realised that for the most part, it brought out the right reaction in the world.
A lot of people want to help and support those around them.
Some people use the season for greed, but most don't. So I embraced it and everything it meant.
But don't let that fool you into thinking that Christmas is my personality. "
I laughed. "Believe me, I didn't think that at all."
"Good." He smiled at me. "Dinner is almost ready."
"Do you want me to set the table?"
He nodded. "If you wouldn't mind. Cutlery is in the top drawer."
I pulled open the drawer and got out what we needed, taking it over to the rustic wooden table that looked welcoming. It was certainly going to provide a romantic spot for dinner.
I looked over to where Nick was putting the finishing touches to the pasta. It was a strangely wholesome sight, and there was a part of me that felt like I could really get used to it, and I wasn't entirely sure what to do with that.