A Kiss For Santa, page 1
A Kiss For Santa
MIA MONROE
Copyright © 2022 by Mia Monroe
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.
Illustration by: Tal Lewin /Caravaggia13
Cover design: Wicked By Design
Editing by: Kate Wood
Contents
Prologue
1. Magnus
2. Luca
3. Magnus
4. Luca
5. Magnus
6. Luca
7. Magnus
8. Luca
9. Magnus
10. Luca
11. Luca
12. Magnus
13. Luca
14. Magnus
15. Luca
16. Magnus
17. Luca
18. Magnus
19. Luca
20. Magnus
Epilogue
A Word From Mia
About the Author
Also by Mia Monroe
Prologue
Luca
Ten years ago
Unable to sleep, I descend the stairs on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. Passing through the living room, my gaze lingers on the plate of cookies and milk we left out for Santa. I smile. Mom refuses to give up the tradition even though I’m almost twenty-two. If it makes her happy, I’ll never complain.
In the kitchen, I decide on leftover wine from dinner instead of water. Gazing out the large window over the sink, I watch the snow flurries fall. It’s a perfect Christmas Eve. On Monday I start my new job back in Phoenix, but there’s nothing like being in Boston for the holidays.
I finish my wine then decide to try to sleep again, so I head back to the stairs. As I pass the tree again, taking in the decorations and lights, I plop on the couch for a few minutes to soak in the holiday feeling as much as possible. Under the tree are piles of packages, but only a few are for us. When the sun rises, Mom, my stepdad Richard, and I will pack these up and take them to the children’s hospital. After all, what is Christmas about if not giving?
My eyes feel heavy soon enough, teasing me with the hope of sleep again. As an adult, I shouldn’t be so keyed up for the holiday still, but Mom has a way of bringing out the kid in me. I allow my eyes to close, remembering holidays of the past. Staying up late to catch a glimpse of Santa or his reindeer. Baking cookies to make sure he has a nice snack to refuel. Writing lists of all the things I wanted and mailing them in a big red mailbox.
A shuffling sound pulls my eyelids open again, and I blink trying to focus on the blurry Christmas tree. When I do, I’m about to rise but I’m stunned motionless. A man, dressed in full Santa regalia, stands next to the plate of cookies, eating one.
The logical part of my brain is trying to reason why and how someone dressed as Santa would break into someone’s house to eat cookies, but then I notice the several new packages under the tree, wrapped in different paper.
The man turns his head sharply, meeting my eyes. He looks alarmed for a moment, but then he smiles.
“Luca.”
My name on his lips startles me. His voice is deep and robust, exactly how I imagined Santa would sound, but that’s where my imagination ends and reality takes over. He’s not old. Not fat. Not looking like someone’s grandpa. The man before me is fit. Taller than average, his presence fills the space. His eyes, twinkling blue, focus on me as I take in his appearance. His beard is trimmed close to his face, mostly black with a bit of gray sprinkled in. He’s not wearing the iconic hat, revealing thick black hair styled like something out of a swanky sixties magazine. Damn. Santa is hot.
“My, how you’ve grown into a fine man.”
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
The man chuckles, placing a hand on his non-existent belly as he does. “You know who I am. As for how I know your name, I know everyone’s name.”
I sit up slowly, taking him in. There’s nothing unpleasant or threatening about him, but there’s no way it’s really Santa. For one thing, this guy doesn’t fit the bill, and for another, Santa doesn’t exist. Right?
The man steps toward me, bringing a rush of warmth with him, and kneels before me. He lifts his hand, exposing his palm, and I watch as a package materializes. I gape at him.
“How did… What?”
The man smiles again, his eyes crinkling and white teeth showing beneath his salt and pepper beard. “I have something special for you, Luca. Whenever you look upon it, the joy of Christmas will fill your heart.”
I take the box, holding it in my lap, but unable to tear my gaze away from the striking stranger.
“Tell Louisa the cookies were perfect as always.” He stands, moving toward the fireplace. “Merry Christmas, Luca.”
With that, he flicks his wrist and a whoosh of red shoots up the fireplace. I scramble across the room, clutching my package as I look up the flue. There’s nothing there, but the sound of scraping hooves above settles over me.
Standing, I walk slowly back to the couch, eyeing my empty wine glass. I’m not drunk, but there’s no way that just happened. But then where did I get this package?
I sit on the couch again, staring at it before tearing into the paper. As I rip open the box, I move tissue paper out of the way to find a snow globe. I lift it, staring at the scene inside. It’s a perfect replica of this house, right down to the plaque on the house, The Vincents.
Instead of shock, warmth spreads through my chest and belly. He’s real.
Santa is real.
Four years ago
“Merry Christmas, Luca. See you next year!”
I snort a laugh, waving to my coworkers as we empty the office the day before Christmas Eve. I’m heading straight to Sky Harbor airport to catch a flight to Boston. Two weeks off to spend with the folks is my idea of a great vacation. I can’t wait to see them.
Two hours later, I’m settled on the plane. A holiday movie plays on the screen in front of me, but all I can think of is seeing him again in a few hours. Since the first night six years ago, I always wait up for a glimpse of the man. He usually appears ten minutes before midnight and leaves just before the clock turns over to officially begin Christmas Day. Nine minutes over random years, but I yearn for the possibility.
He never ages, never looks any different, but he always has a smile for me. Do I have a crush on Santa Claus? I guess I do.
Which is ridiculous, of course. He’s gotta be married if what we grew up learning is true. He never talks about his life, only questions me about mine. I also get the feeling he’s a bit envious of my world, but he’s never said it. When I’m not in his presence I have a million questions for him, but something about his warm gaze always leaves me stumbling for words.
When we finally land, it’s nearly eight at night. The winter sky is dark and cloudy over New England, the chilly air hitting me straight in the chest as I adjust from my months in the desert. I pull the collar of my coat up around my ears as I search for Richard’s SUV. I spot my mom waving to me, and with a smile, I walk in her direction.
After hugs and greetings, I slide into the back seat, ready for two weeks of happiness.
“How was London?” Mom asks, slightly turned in her seat as Richard navigates Logan airport traffic.
“London was cool. My coworkers were really nice and took me out every day to see some of the sights.”
“Wonderful.” Then her smile fades. “Are you still considering the move there?”
“I am. It’s a good career opportunity to work abroad.”
“I know.” She forces a smile. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m only two hours further away than I am in Phoenix. I’ll still make it for the holidays.”
“Good.”
Richard smiles at me from the rear-view mirror. “How are things with Lad?”
I crinkle my nose. “Over.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, hon,” Mom says. “He seemed so suited for you.”
“He was. We ended on good terms. We’re both just in a career growth phase and it makes spending time together impossible. In fact, he has an opportunity to move out to LA. I’ll be clear across the globe from him.”
Mom rubs my knee. “You’ll find your soulmate when the time is right.”
“Worth holding out for,” Richard says, glancing lovingly at my mom.
“I’m not worried about it. I’m still young. Besides, if I can’t have what you two have, I don’t want it.”
Mom squeezes my knee gently before shifting forward in her seat. “You’ll get it. You’re a wonderful soul.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I lean back in my seat as happiness fills my chest. Boston is home, but I’m lucky to have such amazing opportunities. Pretty soon I’ll be making big money, and I’ll be able to give back to the two people who gave me so much.
I never knew my dad, since he bailed as soon as he found out my mom was pregnant, but she did her best for the three years before she met Richard. He’s the only father I know, but I can’t imagine a better one. Witnessing their love gives me hope of finding my own someday.
Immediately, Santa seeps back into my mind. I’ve never told anyone, not even my folks, about our visits. For the umpteenth time I remind myself that the mystical man is not an option, but I wish my heart would get the message.
Later tha
“How do you decide which cookies to make for him?”
Mom looks at me with a warm smile. “I just make what my heart tells me to.”
“He must like them. They’re always gone in the morning.”
She studies me for a moment before nodding. “Yes.”
“Is something up, Mom?”
“No.” She walks over to me, carding her fingers through my hair. “Promise me something, Luca.”
“Anything.”
“You’ll always hold on to the magic of Christmas. No matter how far you travel, no matter how old you get, you’ll always keep it in your heart.”
“I will. I have a great example.”
“Good.” Leaning in, she kisses my forehead. “I’m off to bed.”
“I’m close too. Just want to enjoy the tree a little longer.”
She nods, waving as she ascends the stairs. I settle back on the sofa, scrolling on my phone but anxiously awaiting his arrival. Sadly, it’s not every year. I’ve seen him three times in total, but knowing it’s possible keeps me rooted here.
Hours pass and as the clock hits ten to midnight, I turn sleepy eyes to the fireplace. He’ll be here. I just know it. I can feel it.
I fight sleep as long as I can, finally falling under, but knowing he’ll wake me. At least I hope he will.
When I open my eyes again, I don’t know how long it’s been, but it feels like only minutes. My heart sinks, however, when I glance at the clock to see that it’s almost two in the morning. I missed him. Or maybe he didn’t come.
I check the plate of cookies. It’s empty. Rising from the couch, I notice the box at my feet. A big tag with my name in a fancy font on it hangs from the bow. I open the box, digging through the tissue paper. Inside is a beautiful scarf. The material is unbelievably soft, and the colors—a deep navy with thin gold lines—are my favorite. A note sits on top.
You’ll need this in London.
~Santa
A smile spreads across my lips. He was here. I wish I had seen him again, but the personal nature of the gift is almost good enough. He cares about me.
I shake my head at the thought. Of course he does. He’s Santa. He literally cares about every person on the planet. I’m sure I’m not special. He probably pays lots of people visits. That’s why he can’t always be with me.
I may have a lot going for me—a wonderful family, great friends, a thriving career—but when it comes to love, things are bleak. The sad fact is, my heart is stuck on someone completely unavailable.
Dammit. I’m in love with Santa Claus.
Magnus
Perched on the roof of Louisa’s house, I use my magic to peer through the thick material to watch Luca open my gift. Snow piles on my shoulders, but I can’t move. I couldn’t bear to wake him earlier, but thankfully, I’ve returned in time to see him. My patience pays off as he wraps the scarf, made from the finest cashmere available, around his neck, rubbing it over his stubbled cheek.
Prancer nuzzles my cheek. “Sir, we should go.”
I wave the reindeer’s concern away. “Soon.”
Luca stands, twirling in a small circle with his scarf wrapped around him. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy, which is almost always. With dark, wavy hair, large hazel eyes, an elegant nose, and a perfect pout, his face is perfection, but it’s his spirit that draws me ever closer year after year. So few adults even believe in me, losing themselves to the commercialism of the season, but Luca and his family hold on to the magic.
“Sir,” Prancer continues. “The sun rises soon.”
With a huffed breath, I nod, tearing my eyes away from the stunning mortal. “I’m ready.”
An elf walks up behind me, patting my shoulder before I stand. “You’ll see him again. Soon.”
“Three hundred and sixty-four days is not soon, Morlad.” I force a smile. “Onward. Home awaits and much-deserved rest.”
Climbing into my sleigh, I glance at the man one more time as he resettles on the sofa, curled up and gazing at the tree. It’ll be another year before I can see him again. We ran late this year due to some extra needs in the Northern Hemisphere. As much as I’d like to spend the entire evening with Luca, I have a job to do.
“Until next year, Luca,” I whisper, waving my magic away. I lift the reins as Morlad settles in next to me. “To Sinter.”
Rudolph’s nose lights up, and with hooves tapping on the roof, we take off into the night air.
Every year since…
I watch from my discreet location as Luca leaves his London workplace. A smile tugs at my lips as he wraps the cashmere scarf I gave him around his neck. I know his route as well as I know my own face, following at a safe distance as he walks down the busy sidewalk. He moves slowly, gazing into store windows, listening to carolers, and even watching the ice skaters in the park.
Following Luca on Christmas Eve has become part of my routine. Even though I try to make an effort to see him in person, I can’t always with my schedule. But I can make his holiday a little brighter.
When he arrives home to his humble flat, I peer around a corner watching as he discovers the large red box on his doorstep. It’s covered in magic preventing anyone but Luca from opening it. He looks around for someone, a huge smile on his face as he tugs the bow. Lifting the lid, he peeks into the box, moving tissue paper out of the way.
Inside is the book he’s been eyeing at the vintage bookshop across from his work. Nearly every day, he stops in and gazes at it, but doesn’t buy it. I’m not sure why. He surely can afford it. I’ve wondered if maybe he doesn’t think he deserves it, but he does. It’s an early edition of A Christmas Carol.
Luca holds it to his chest, then looks at it again, carefully brushing his fingers over the cover. He kneels, peeking into the box again until he finds the card. I recall the smile on my face as I wrote it out.
A rare book for a rare man. Merry Christmas, Luca.
~Santa
Luca’s smile beams brightly enough for me to see it from my cloaked position. Snow flurries start to fall while he bundles the package up again, his cheeks rosy from the cold and happiness. There could be no better gift than seeing what he looks like happy. It’ll be enough to get me through the night.
I blow a kiss in his direction, before wiggling my nose and disappearing into the evening.
Chapter 1
Magnus
Present Day
Walking through the marbled halls of the Sinterborg Council building, the only sound my heavy boots on the polished floors, foreboding grips me. I already know what this is about. I had hoped to avoid it, but here we are.
I enter the main hall, surrounded by imposing marble columns gleaming ivory white. Sunlight floods the space, giving the illusion of warmth. Up ahead, the Council waits for me, stationed behind a huge mahogany table at least twenty feet long. There, all the Santas of Christmas Past await. Before them, my parents and younger brother stand, heads bowed in respect.
As I approach, I pause to kneel.
“You may rise,” Elder Malthe’s voice booms over me.
I stand with a respectful head bow. Once a Santa’s tenure is over, he is relegated to the Council to provide guidance and ensure the continuation of Christmas magic. My father, Viggo, is part of the Council, but unable to preside over this issue since it’s about me.
I meet my mother’s eyes. She smiles but I see the nerves all over her face. Theodor, my brother, gazes upon me with the same pleading look I’ve been getting from him for five years.
“Today we are here to discuss the impending Fortieth Year Commemoration,” Elder Malthe says.
