Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Cotton?” He’s so good at his job that he sounds truly horrified while saying, “Mrs. Claus would have a coronary if I asked her to make my suits from cotton.”
“That’s because she knows the real Santa’s suits are made from velvet,” announces a toothless child on his right. “Hey, Santa?”
“That’s right.” When he bobs down to her level to tell her how his suit came about, I smile at the mother snapping a picture of her daughter with Santa before I continue down the path.
I only get a handful of steps before I’m stopped by someone calling my name.
It isn’t Maryann as I hoped, offering to invest in my startup company. It is Santa, who looks flustered from jogging the short distance I placed between us.
“I missed Zane this morning when he left your apartment, so perhaps you could give him this for me. I’m running out of time for all my special projects this week.”
After a playful tap on his nose, he places a handwritten receipt in my hand before returning to his station. It is from Saint Nicholas to Zane for three hundred dollars and seventy-five cents.
Too curious for my own good, I ask, “Why does Zane need a receipt?” I’m silenced for the second time by an empty sidewalk. “Santa?” I call out while twirling in a circle. “Where did you go?”
“To the North Pole, silly,” shouts the little girl, who should be wishing for her two front teeth for Christmas.
When I crank my neck her way, eager to double her belief that Santa exists, I’m the one left reeling in Christmas spirit instead.
I knew I recognized this region of Ravenshoe, but I couldn’t pinpoint why until now.
Zane’s hotel is half a block up. I’m only feet away from him and too giddy with Christmas magic to ponder how unkosher it is to drop in on someone unannounced.
It’s almost Christmas.
People don’t mind if you visit unexpectedly.
Especially when you’re still wearing the racy red number the host picked out when you sent him an unsuitable-for-work image to make sure you didn’t leave his thoughts for even a second during the absence you’re responsible for.
14
ZANE
“What do you keep looking at?”
I slant my phone so the glare of the undercabinet lights in my kitchen blocks the pictures Kelsey sent me over an hour ago. They’re X-rated and have me so eager to ditch my mother and sister for the umpteenth time this week that I used every skill I own to pull my mother off the ledge in an hour instead of a week.
I’m emotionally drained and could do with a twelve-hour nap, but Kelsey’s teasing snaps have ensured sleep is the last thing on my mind.
Thank fuck Maryann agreed to interview Kelsey, instead of Harrold Marigold. He’s rumored to have broken a handful of his employees’ hearts. I know for a fact he has. More than one of them have been clients of mine.
After a second look at the images causing my skyrocketing temperature, I dump my phone on the kitchen counter, stuff my hands in my pockets like the lingerie pics haven’t made everything a tight squeeze, and then spin to face my sister. “Just a proposal Emma sent through. Nothing interesting.”
“You are such a liar.”
Casey throws a balled dishtowel at my head before balancing her elbows on the island she just scrubbed clean. Our mother’s wedding is in this hotel, so she has access to a massive kitchen downstairs, but she’s reserved my kitchen for the baker to finalize the finicky toppers of the two-tiered cake.
“It’s Kelsey, isn’t it?” I don’t get a word out. “Don’t try to deny it. I can see it all over your face. It hasn’t gleamed this brightly since Christmas Eve twenty years ago.”
That was the year before she told me Santa isn’t real.
I refused to speak to her for a month after she ruined my childhood.
I’m on the cusp of spilling every sordid detail of my feelings for Kelsey, but before I can, Casey continues revealing secrets. “Santa is telling everyone that he’s responsible for your pairing.”
“What?” I speak only one word, but it is barely audible through my shocked chuckle.
Casey nods. “Charity Santa… the one who’s been following you all over town.”
I knew I wasn’t going crazy.
“He’s taking full credit for your relationship with Kelsey. He even said he—”
She’s interrupted by the trill of the hotel’s landline.
I point at her in warning that our conversation isn’t over, before I answer the call. “Hello?”
“Mr. Kringle—”
“Please call me Zane,” I beg. “Especially at this time of year.”
The receptionist at the hotel giggles before addressing me as requested. “Zane, the baker you’re expecting has arrived.”
“Great. Send her up, please.”
When she hums in approval of my request, I disconnect our call as the buzzer at my suite rings.
Damn, that was quick.
My strides to the door double when I recall Kelsey’s interview should have ended by now. Maryann was beside herself when I let drop that I was looking at investing in a new stockbroking firm when I called to cancel Harrold’s yearly reservation with my company.