The One Night Stand Before Christmas - Jana Aston Page 0,15

have actual real-life problems.”

“Like what?” she challenges, clearly disbelieving I’ve got anything going on at the moment.

“I slept with Santa Claus last night, for starters.”

“You did not.” I’ve got her attention now, that’s for sure. She’s staring at me, a mixture of doubt and curiosity on her face as if she’s not sure if I’m messing with her or if I’m serious.

“I did. I really did. His suit is still lying on my living room floor.” And he’s still lying in my bed because I’m a jerk. I panicked.

“His red suit?” Ginger’s face has just lit up. I’m pretty sure I’ve made her entire year with this revelation. I’m not even mad. If I was in her shoes I’d be all over this story like a kitten in a Christmas tree too.

I gnaw on my lip and wonder if Teddy’s still at my place or if he’s woken up and vacated yet. I wonder if anyone else has ever snuck out of their own house after a one-night stand or if I’ve just set the bar for weird one-night stand behavior?

“Serious question though.” Ginger interrupts my thoughts, pausing until I’ve made eye contact with her and raised my brows, indicating she should end the dramatic pause and ask her question. “How is he gonna make the rounds on Christmas Eve without his suit? He can’t slide down chimneys in his underwear. Everyone knows he needs the suit to make the entire thing work.”

My sweet baby sister manages to deliver that entire speech with a straight face, until the end, when she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“I hate you,” I announce, turning on my heel and heading to the next shop. I’ve been done with my Christmas shopping since Thanksgiving like any self-respecting Christmas lover. The only thing I need is a box full of chocolates so I can stuff my feelings down my throat a hundred and sixty calories at a time .

“You should at least hang it up, don’t you think?” Ginger is hustling down the sidewalk to keep up with me so she can keep talking about this. “What if Santa doesn’t get it back in time to have it pressed? He can’t pull an all-nighter delivering presents in a wrinkled suit as if he’s on the sleigh ride of shame, Noel! Think of the children!”

She’s doubled over on the sidewalk, clutching her sides, laughing at me.

“You’re a terrible person, Ginger. I hope you get a stocking full of coal.”

“I probably will.” She stands upright, eyes full of delight. “Now that you’ve got an in with Santa.”

“You’re my least favorite sister. Also, I’m returning your Christmas present since I’ve gifted you with this story that’s so delighting you.”

“Totally fine,” Ginger agrees. “This story is going to delight me more than anything you could have bought me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter.

“So you really had a one-night stand with some guy in a Santa suit last night?”

“Yup.” I nod. “I mean I know who he is. It’s not like I was calling him Santa all night.”

“Good to know.” Ginger nods as if she considered the possibility that I was involved in some kinky Santa fuckery. “Do you like him? Are you going to see him again?”

“I, um…” I pause, unsure how to answer. Am I? Do I? Why did I even bring him up? Why am I still thinking about him? He’s not even staying in Reindeer Falls. He’s not forever material, let alone boyfriend material.

But maybe he’s one-week material. That’s a thing, right?

Ginger and I part ways a few minutes later when we spot her new boyfriend leaving the old auto body shop at the end of Main Street and she takes off to find out what he’s up to. I reluctantly head home, already knowing what I’ll find.

Teddy’s long gone.

Chapter 8

I’m a little melancholy when I walk into work the next morning. It’s the byproduct of having the best sex of your life but not being real sure you handled it properly and also it was with your co-worker’s brother. It all adds up to a bowlful of awkward, to be honest.

But surely he didn’t tell her, right? That’s what we agreed upon. Sorta. I’m sure I mentioned it in passing, which implies some kind of binding agreement including a five-year statute of limitations.

Still, the guilt. Now I feel like I’m keeping something from her. Or lying. I hate lying. Avoiding uncomfortable emotional situations, fine. Lying, icky.

So perhaps I can just avoid Jillian for the