Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,2
Christmas after all!”
Thirty-six hours, I told myself as I headed to the bathroom to change into the reindeer suit.
“You may want to take off as many layers as you can,” Belle suggested, following me as she tapped on her tablet. “All that fake fur makes the costume hot.”
I nodded then texted my sister, Lilith, to come pick up Salem. Then I inspected the costume. It was itchy and smelled like peppermint.
“Thirty-six hours,” I chanted as I removed my layers of clothing.
There was a certain type of women all men fantasized about. She was usually tall and thin but somehow inexplicably had hips and a big butt and large, round boobs. I was tall and thin but with a boyish figure, small boobs, and big hands and feet. The billionaire bachelor was not going to find me attractive.
“What the hell do I even care? He can shove a candy cane up where the sun don’t shine,” I grumbled as I stepped into the furry suit. “It’s not like I need some billionaire’s wandering eye to pump up my self-esteem. I don’t even want a boyfriend, let alone one with more money than sense.”
I adjusted the large red bow at the neck of the suit then twisted my hair up into a bun.
Belle was waiting impatiently when I stepped out of the bathroom. “It’s showtime in five,” she said, grabbing me by the shoulder. I was a respectable five feet eight, but Belle was six feet tall barefoot. Now there was someone who would have been a Celtic priestess in the early third century and had no problem sending the Romans back where they came from and probably sacrificing them during some sort of winter solstice ritual killing.
I smirked slightly.
“Don’t murder anyone,” Belle warned me. “You’re going to be baking, too, so no slashing. Don’t burn down my brother’s studio, and don’t poison anyone.”
“When have I ever?” I demanded.
“Oh yeah? Then what was the voodoo doll for?”
“That deliveryman was rude, and the metal light-up reindeer he brought had absolutely been damaged in transit. There is no way I would have accidentally busted half the lights on that thing and bent all the antlers,” I told her stubbornly.
We went out a side entrance and walked a few yards away. The film crew, the huge lights, and the producers milling around signified another reality TV show production in progress. New York was lousy with them.
Gunnar gave me a dildo-sized plastic candy cane.
“This better not be what I think it is.”
“It’s your Christmas greeting gift,” he said. Then he shouted into his headset, “Zane? Yeah, get camera two on her…ten-four.” To me, he added, “Every girl is supposed to bring something meaningful to how she celebrates Christmas…yadda, yadda. This was all they had at the shop down the street.”
Belle stuffed me into a limo that was idling out of the shot. It drove me a few paces to make it seem like I was arriving in style. In front of the building, a tall man waited—a winter prince with platinum hair, icy blue eyes, and a general demeanor that screamed fuckable but not in a serious-relationship way.
His eyes pierced the glass of the limo, and I froze then forced myself to relax. “He can’t see through the tinted glass,” I assured myself as I twisted the reindeer head on.
The lights sparkled in the cold air as I stepped out of the car and then jerked as the antlers caught on the door.
“Fuck!” I cursed.
The billionaire smirked as he watched me struggle.
“Thanks for the help, asshole!” I shouted as I finally forced the antlers through the car door.
The smirk turned into a sneer. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You’re supposed to be here to impress me.”
“I’ll show you stupid prizes!” I yelled. I hefted the giant candy cane and threw it at him.
2
Johnathan
I work out—like, a lot. I hit the gym every day, alternating weights and cardio. I do MMA fighting three nights a week. How the fuck did I not dodge that candy cane?
It must have been the shock of being cussed out by a giant reindeer.
“What the hell?” I yelled at bachelorette number thirteen, though I was going to start calling her the bachelorette from hell, because no one treated me like that!
“My face is insured for twenty million dollars,” I snapped at her as I gestured to my assistants. They looked at me dumbly as they tried to figure out what I wanted.