Catching sight of myself in the darkened computer screen, I look as bad as I feel. “You can come in now,” I shout.
Joy saunters in and her lips part. “Itsootsyou.” She gives me another once-over and tugs on the fake grey beard. “You’resleigh-in' it.”
“Did you just search up Christmas puns?”
“Yes. Couldn’t resist.”
“Yulebe sorry.” My mouth widens into a smile. I may feel like a fraud, but that’s the most genuine smile I’ve had in weeks. Somehow, this girl brings out the best in me. If it means seeing her happy, I’ll wear this suit every damn day for my star employee.
She lifts my wrist to look at my watch. “It’s almost time. We have to get on the shop floor before the grotto opens.”
“You think I’ll pass?”
She chews on the inside of her mouth. “One sec.” She opens her desk drawer and pulls out a pair of glasses.
“I can’t wear your glasses.”
“They’re just reading glasses. You’ll be fine. I think with the dim lighting in the grotto and the glasses, nobody will know it’s you.” She bends over to tie the ribbon on her boot, giving me a better view of her thick thighs.
With a view like that, I can't help the words that slip out, “Want to sit on Santa’s lap?” Dammit. I press my lips together, preventing anything else spilling out.
She tilts her head with a cheeky smile. “Section four of the code of conduct booklet.”
We both burst out laughing. It’s become a bit of a joke lately. But I’m ready to throw the damn rule book out the window the next time she bends over in that dress.
10
JOY
“Partridge family.” I smile at a mum breastfeeding a baby in the queue.
“That’s us.” She ushers her little girl into the grotto as I pull the curtain back.
The dad steps aside with a pushchair. “I’ll wait here,” he says, holding onto the handles laden with shopping bags, a changing bag strapped to his shoulder.
I follow the mum into the grotto and let the curtain drop. My clipboard tells me the little girl is five, so I grab an age-appropriate pre-wrapped gift from the different sacks the staff prepared.
The little girl goes straight for Nick’s knee, bypassing the wooden stool next to him. “Are you the real Father Christmas?” she asks, climbing on his muscular thighs. I’m a little jealous; what I’d give to sit on his lap.
“I am and you are…?” He stiffens in his seat, keeping his hands by his side and not really knowing what to do with the little girl on his knee. He glances at the mum, then quickly turns to me with wide eyes when he sees she has her breast out.
I can’t stop the smile on my face at how awkward he looks, but so adorable at the same time.
“Sienna,” the little girl says. “Shouldn’t you know my name?”
“Sorry, kid, I haven’t got my crystal ball with me today.”
She frowns at Nick, making him itch the back of his neck.
I glare at him. “Sienna is on the nice list, Santa. I’ve just checked.”
His forced smile is more like a grimace. “So what’s your Christmas wish, kid?”
“I want a pony, please.”
The mum shakes her head at Nick as she puts her breast away and leans the baby against her shoulder, patting his back.
“Sorry, kid. Santa doesn’t deal with livestock.”
