Santa's Blind Date (A Santa's Coming Short Story) Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Dori Lavelle

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover: Tracy Lorraine

  Contents

  BLAKE

  CELINE

  CELINE

  BLAKE

  CELINE

  BLAKE

  CELINE

  CELINE

  MORE SANTA’S COMING STORIES

  OTHER BOOKS BY DORI LAVELLE

  BLAKE

  The last punch is thrown, the opponent hits the ground, and the champion is announced.

  The referee’s baritone voice calls out Jake Pellusi’s name. The crowd roars in response. I only smile, then get up to leave.

  The adrenaline rush of watching a satisfying fight is still pumping through my veins as I get to the car.

  “Good evening, Mr. Lockhart.” The driver I hired to drive me around during my stay in Liverpool opens the door for me.

  “Thank you, Elijah. Take me to the hotel, please.”

  “Won’t you be celebrating tonight?” During our conversations, Elijah had revealed that he is a huge boxing fan. He could not believe his luck that he would be the chauffeur of a former boxing champion.

  Not too long ago, boxing was my world. It still is, but now I don’t have to throw punches to make my millions. These days, my worldwide boxing gyms and promotion companies bring in all the cash while I drink champagne. No more head injuries and fractured bones for me.

  Unlike many boxers, I made my money, then stepped out of the ring, giving up the fight while I was at the height of my career, at the age of thirty-two. That was three years ago and I don’t regret a thing.

  Stop when it’s good, my father told me before he died. I promised him that I would. I kept that promise.

  My phone rings. I pick up with a smile.

  “Congratulations. Another one of your boys won.” Madison’s soothing voice drifts down the line. “I watched the match on TV.”

  “Madison, you should know by now that everyone I invest in ends up a champion.”

  “I’m not surprised, Mr. Lockhart. You’re a champion yourself.”

  “And you are a charmer, Madison.”

  Madison Foster is a sweet, fifty-six-year-old woman who started off as my nanny, then my housekeeper. Now she works as my personal assistant. We could not live without each other if we tried. Why should we have to? We’re family now. She’s smart, great with numbers, and loyal to me. I couldn’t ask for more. When I moved from Misty Cove, Florida to Chicago, she followed me, and when her health allowed, she accompanied me on many of my business trips around the world.

  “Now that the match is over, will you still fly back in two days?”

  I shake my head and gaze out the window at the city lights. “No. I’ll stay on a few more days. There are some business partners I want to meet with.”

  Silence plugs the line.

  “Madison, are you there?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m here. I was just wondering if that means you won’t be playing Santa this year.”

  “I’m afraid not. I have way too much to do.” As I say the words, my heart fills with emptiness. I hate to neglect our tradition, but business comes first this year.

  “What should I do with all the letters? We have over a hundred this year.”

  Early November, I always make sure a box is set up in a mall in Misty Cove, my hometown, where kids can post letters to Santa. For five years now, it has been my mission to make as many of their wishes come true. Once a year on Christmas, I also return home to be the secret Santa at the local mall. Making the kids happy is my chance to give back.

  When I was six years old, I was a lonely orphan boy and Santa made one of my biggest wishes come true. He gave me a home and a family. I asked for a father, and Santa Claus offered to adopt me. I was Santa’s son. When Santa died five years ago, I secretly stepped into his shoes and continued the family tradition.

  “Do the usual,” I tell Madison. Read the letters and arrange for the gifts to be bought and delivered to the kids who provided an address.

  “All right then.” She sighs. “It’s a shame though. It was always fun to set up Santa’s Factory at the mall. I’m sure the kids will miss you.”

  “I’ll make it up to them next year.” I close my eyes and lean my head back, ignoring the pinch of guilt. “But you have to join me for Christmas here. I’ll fly you in.” The two of us have always spent Christmas together.

  “I don’t think I can,” Madison says sadly. “You know how flying makes me sick these days.”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot about that. Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. I won’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

  “You’ve always been so kind to me, Blake.”

  “I can say the same about you.” I pause. “Look, I’ll call you in the morning. I just arrived at the hotel. I have a late night business meeting.”

  Madison clears her throat. “What kind of meeting is that? I didn’t see it in your calendar.”

  “I prefer not to comment,” I say with a chuckle. “Talk to you tomorrow, Madison.”

  When I get to the hotel room, there’s a gorgeous brunette with sexy dimples waiting for me, and a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling in the bucket. I had paid her to keep me company for the entire weekend.

  “I hope you had a lovely time, Mr. Lockhart.” She loosens my tie.

  “I have, but I’m ready to end the day with a bang.” My dick hardens at the thought of what I’m about to do to her.

  The morning sunlight spills into the room as I run the tip of my tongue along the spine of the woman panting beneath me. Then I slide my hand underneath her body. She knows what I want her to do. She’s a professional, after all. A smile spreads across my face as her ass points toward the ceiling. I position myself behind her.

  Before easing myself into her, I tap her smooth butt with my dick. “Ready, Danielle?”

  “Always,” she says into the pillow.

  I inhale and blow out a breath, then I enter her warm, wet tunnel.

  She gasps, then moans. Her moans soon turn to screams.

  This round doesn’t last long. It’s quick, dirty, and satisfying. Once it’s over, she leaves the room to shower while I order room service. It’s delivered ten minutes later with a letter addressed to me.

  “This arrived for you yesterday, Sir.”

  “Thank you.” I take the letter and open it on my way to the bedroom while my personal butler remains in the dining room to lay the table.

  Danielle is out of the shower now and is drying her long hair in front of a floor-length mirror.

  “Go and have breakfast,” I say. I don’t lift my gaze from the letter in my hands. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

  “Sure.” She leaves the room.

  The handwriting on the first envelope belongs to Madison. But inside it is another one addressed to Santa in a handwriting I don’t recognize.

  My eyebrows meet in the middle as I open it. Madison mentioned that we received over a hundred letters. Why would she send me this particular one? Why did she feel I have to read it?

  I’m surprised that the letter is written in a clear and legible handwriting, definitely not that of a child.

  Dear Santa,

  This letter is sure to be different from the ones you normally get. My name is Olivia Murphy. I’m not a little girl, and I’m not asking for a doll or a princess dress.

  I’m writing
this on behalf of my sister, Celine. She’s not a little girl either (see enclosed photo), but she could use a gift from Santa this year. She’s been through a lot the past few years. She was not only diagnosed with cancer, but her husband walked out on her. If anyone deserves a treat this Christmas, it’s her.

  Is there any chance you could send her something from Santa’s bag? Anything that would bring a smile to her face would do.

  Before I finish reading, I reach into the envelope to remove the photo the woman sent. The moment I see the woman’s face, my heart slams hard into my ribs and I reel back. I lean against the desk for support. The woman in the photo is stunning, with blue eyes that reach deep into my soul and start rearranging things.

  I don’t bother to read the rest of the letter as I pick up my phone from the bedside table to call Madison.

  “Change of plans,” I say, my hand buried in my hair. “I’ll play Santa. Go ahead and prepare everything.”

  “You will?” her voice sounds like a song down the line. “That’s amazing news.”

  “Get me a fuller beard this year. I’ll be flying straight to Misty Cove from here.”

  “What made you change your mind?” she asks.

  “Fate,” I respond and end the call.

  CELINE

  The sun is out, and it’s making the curtains glow. I know I should get out of bed to live my life, but right now I don’t feel as though I have one.

  I close my eyes to shut out the world, to wallow in my misery a bit longer. Under the covers it’s just me and my pain. I guess it’s the one thing I can completely count on to stick around.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could erase the past from my mind. But it refuses to back off, taunting me every second of each day.

  The doorbell rings, but I ignore it. I’m not expecting anyone. When you’re sick and divorced, people who used to call you friend suddenly disappear.

  The bell continues to ring and I continue to ignore it. I know who it is. Once she gets tired of ringing the bell, she’ll let herself in. And she does.

  I groan as I listen to her padding up the stairs. Every time she visits, she rings the damn bell until it gives me a headache. It’s her way of trying to get me to move.

  “You need to get out of bed and out of the house,” my sister Olivia says in her husky voice. I used to envy that voice when I was a teenager. Everyone thought it was so sexy.

  “What for?” I murmur into the pillows.

  “To live out your second chance. Don’t give up on your life, Celine. You’re only thirty-three.”

  Guilt stabs me in the gut. She’s right. I beat cancer while many people never do. But why do I feel as though I’m still dying?

  “I won’t let you do this to yourself.” Olivia yanks the flowery bed sheet from my body. “Your life is waiting to be lived.”

  I curl up into a ball, my eyes still closed. If only she could understand. There’s nothing in the world I want to do more than live. But first I need to grieve for the life I used to have. I don’t think I can move forward unless I do.

  “This is not about the cancer,” I say, finally opening my eyes.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” Olivia perches on the edge of the bed and takes my hand in hers. She’s always had cold hands, both in cold and warm temperatures. “Don’t you think he’s done enough to mess up your life?”

  He has. One year ago, Dennis Whitefield tore my heart out of my chest and shredded it. He was my first, the only man I’ve ever been with. We met during my first year in college and got married right after graduation. I was a fool to think we had a happy marriage. Till death do us part, in sickness and in health…all lies. I guess he didn’t mean the vows when he said them.

  As devastated as I was to be told I had leukemia, the pain could never compare to my husband telling me later that night that he didn’t think he could handle it. A month later, he filed for divorce. Two months after that, he started dating again. Talk about kicking someone when they’re down.

  During the months I spent fighting the cancer alone, I didn’t have the time to grieve the end of my marriage. And now that the cancer is gone, it’s hitting me like a bolt of lightning. My doctor gave me the all-clear a month ago, and I’m still paralyzed, spending each day buried under the covers, afraid to go out of the house in case I see Dennis, even though I heard he and his girlfriend travel a lot.

  “He didn’t deserve you, sis,” Olivia says in a gentle voice. “Don’t give up your life because of him. You’re only thirty-three. You have so much more to live for.”

  I open my eyes then and look at my sister, taking in her heart-shaped face, the bright blue eyes, the cute mole on her chin. It warms my heart to know I still have her.

  “I do want to start living again, but I don’t know how to. I kind of forgot, I think.”

  “Let me help you.” Olivia’s face lights up. “How about this year we go to the mall on Christmas Eve? I heard Santa is coming to town again”

  I smile for the first time in a while. “We’re no longer kids, Olivia.”

  “So what? We could pretend to be kids for one day.” She nudges me. “Come on, it could be fun. Christmas lights have a way of cheering people up. We could have dinner together. It’s been a while since we went out.”

  “I don’t feel like celebrating.”

  She tries to talk me into going to the mall again, but I stand my ground. I don’t want to be a burden to her. I want her to enjoy Christmas without having to deal with my issues.

  In the end, she gives up and tells me she’s going to the bakery.

  “I’ll be back to work on Monday,” I promise her.

  We happen to be a family of bakers. Our parents opened up the family bakery—The Cake Boutique—the year they got married. After they left town four years ago, to enjoy the rest of their lives in Hawaii, they transferred the business to us. Olivia and I decided to stop baking breads and cookies and focused on wedding cakes.

  Unlike me, Olivia has never been especially passionate about running a bakery. For years, she talked about leaving town to move to the big city. Her plans were put on hold when I got sick. I’ll have to pull myself together soon so she can live her life. At twenty-eight she has a lot ahead of her.

  “Hey, that’s great. I miss working with you.”

  Before Olivia leaves, she makes me breakfast in bed and heads to work.

  As soon as she’s gone, I drag myself out of bed and walk out onto the balcony, watching the waves crashing against the shore. This used to be the perfect view. Dennis and I used to sit out here for hours at night. Sometimes we would run out to swim naked in the sea. We usually ended up making love under the waves.

  Olivia was right, he did not deserve me. Which means he does not deserve any more of my tears.

  I head over to my closet and pull out the only shirt he left behind. It’s charcoal gray and wrinkled from me burying my face into it when I cried for him.

  Without thinking, I take it to the bathroom and pull out a pair of scissors. The next thing I know, I’m still holding the scissors, but the shirt is lying in shreds at my feet.

  Instead of feeling relief at having destroyed something that belonged to him, I burst out crying. When I’m done, I stare at myself in the mirror.

  Once upon a time, I had long, flowing red hair and bright eyes. The damn cancer has taken my hair and Dennis stole the sparkle in my eye. But maybe I could get both of them back one day.

  I sink to the bathroom floor and allow myself to cry one more time.

  CELINE

  On Christmas Eve morning, the doorbell rings. I’m in the shower so I consider ignoring it, but I have made a decision to start living again. I’m pretty sure it’s Olivia at the door.

  For almost a week now, she has been trying to get me to change my mind about going with her to the mall to see Santa. I don’t see why I should? Santa stopped making my wishes come true a long time ago. But at least Olivia will be proud of me for going to the door. I’m not ready fo
r more than that.

  I groan as I turn off the water and wrap a towel around my body. Air cools my skin as I make my way down the stairs, leaving behind wet footprints.

  I don’t bother to peer into the keyhole since I already know who it is. But I’m wrong. The bleached blonde woman with breasts bursting out of a red dress, and bright red lipstick is not my sister. She’s my ex-husband’s girlfriend. They started dating two months after we broke up, when the divorce was not even final.

  A wave of jealousy sweeps through me followed by a cramp that twists my stomach.

  “What are...what are you doing here?”

  I’m sure she came to rub salt into my wounds. I’m actually surprised she hadn’t shown up months ago.

  In high school, Brianna Adams used to be one of those mean girls. I was one of her favorite targets.

  “May I come in?” she asks, batting her long lashes.

  I tighten my towel around my body with trembling hands. “What do you want?”

  “Celine, I’m here to tell you I’m sorry.”

  A sarcastic laugh falls from my lips. “For what exactly?”

  She shrugs. “I wasn’t that kind to you in school. Kids do stupid things.”

  A cold smile spreads across my lips. “That’s all you’re sorry for?”

  Brianna glances behind her. Is she worried that the neighbors are gossiping about her? I hope they are.

  “Look, I thought we could leave the past behind us. And I need your help with something.” She looks down at her hands. I see the ring before she tells me.

  Something explodes inside my heart. I slump against the doorframe. “You’re—”

  “Dennis proposed to me this morning.” She lifts her hand to the light.

  Some things never change. She’s still a bitch. She has come here to rub her engagement in my face.

  “Please leave.” I make a move to close the door. I need to lick my wounds in private. She reaches out a hand to stop the door from shutting in her face.