like nothing I’d ever seen.
Of course, everyone sees photos of Santacon online. Pictures of red-suits flooding the streets of New York City. But this... I was clubbing with several hundred Santas. Men—many of them with their jackets open to their bare chests. Women wearing Santa outfits that looked like they were ready to strip for their cookies and milk.
Santa—Someone backed into my shoulder and jarred me.
“Sorry about that,” the man turned around and said, his smile widening when he saw me. “A Grinch in our midst... nice.” He winked at me and my eyes widened. “I’d be happy to get naughty with you later.”
My outfit wasn’t sexy by most measures—and definitely not compared to some of the sexy Santas we’d passed on the dance floor. The jacket buttoned right up to the collar. The sleeves were long but the fabric was thin and breathable. And the back fell low enough with the fur to cover how well the leggings molded over the curve of my ass. It wasn’t inherently sexy, but when I took one last look in the mirror before leaving the room, my green glitter-coated eyes widened with how hot I looked without having to reveal hardly anything.
And all I could think about was what Saint would think when he saw me.
I hadn’t given thought to all the other people who’d see me first.
My cheeks flamed and I shuddered—in a bad way—as his leer roamed over me. I opened my mouth to give him a good Grinch-ing, but Noelle pulled me forward and out of his sight.
“A few times! The Mai Tais are the best in the city.” She grinned over her shoulder as we approached the bar. “We’ll have to get some another time.”
“Another time?” I asked. “What about now?”
“This is Santacon, Holl! We’re getting eggnog.”
Oh, great.
“Let me guess, this is a first, too?” Her eyebrow arched, revealing the ornate green sparkled eyeshadow she’d meticulously applied in my bathroom.
“Yep.” I gave her a guilty smile.
The bartender didn’t even blink twice when Noelle pulled two milky white cocktails off the bar, shoved one into my hand, and waited expectantly.
“It’s a love it or hate it kind of thing,” she prefaced. “Kind of like anchovies.”
“Kind of like Christmas?” I drawled, my joke quashed by her glare. “Alright, alright. Here we go.”
Lifting the glass mug to my lips, I caught the distinct whiff of nutmeg and cloves before taking a drink.
Sweet. Spiced. Strong.
My eyes popped open, and her smile sprung wide. “You like it, don’t you?”
Pulling my lips away, I licked what was surely a white milky mustache from my lips. “What’s in it?”
I’d never bothered to look before, though I had a vague idea.
Noelle took a swig of her own, sighing with content before answering. “There are so many ways to make eggnog, but for this one, they use the egg, sugar, and spice base, and then add cognac, Grand Marnier, and bourbon to the mix.” My look of concern prompted her to laugh and add, “No need to worry, Holly.” She leaned in. “There’s no law against drinking and elevating home.”
I swallowed my groan with another sip.
I really did have no excuse to not enjoy the alcohol. It was a weekend. I didn’t need to work tomorrow morning. And to get to my bed was just a short elevator ride away.
Before my usual worries that followed me like a shadow could creep any closer, and before any of the Santas who’d been eyeing us since we walked up to the bar could approach, Noelle grabbed two Santas who I then recognized as some of the younger bellmen, Drew and Jake, who worked the same shift as her in the lobby, and we got lost in conversation about Santacon horror stories from years past.
I didn’t know how long or how many egg nogs it took, but it felt as though I blinked and suddenly I was laughing with them, the topic turning to my apparently infamous Christmas ornament that the whole staff was trying to get a glimpse of on the tree.
“What?” I half-screeched, covering my mouth because I couldn’t stop laughing.
“It’s the Christmas cock!” Noelle snorted, wiping tears from her eyes.
“It was a piece of holly!” I insisted pointlessly. “And it’s not on the tree.”
“Oh, it is!” Drew exclaimed. “It keeps appearing in different places, I swear!”
“He’s not lying!” Jake chimed in. “But then by the time the shift is over and we go to look, it’s gone!”
Dammit, Saint.
I couldn’t speak, the whole idea of a disappearing ornament