I turned. He had his arms crossed and was holding a large red-handled screwdriver.

He’d been standing there underneath me the whole time. I was an idiot.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I lied.

“Didn’t believe me about the sleigh?” he said. “Or do you just enjoy sneaking around other people’s homes after you think they’re asleep?”

I cringed. This was not the warm, jolly Santa Claus my childhood had prepared me for. It wasn’t even the warm, kind-of-tired Santa Claus who’d been in my room earlier.

This guy looked exhausted—and annoyed.

“You said I could go anywhere I wanted,” I said.

He gave me a look, and I wished I could swallow the words. Obviously he hadn’t meant this. I’d known that before I’d left my room.

“The sleigh is broken,” he said. “Crystal and Aspen have both lost their driving privileges until they retake the training. There is no other way in or out, and Christmas is on its way. I understand that you want to go home, Holly, but I’m going to have an even harder time getting either of us out of here if I can’t trust you not to make trouble.”

“I’m not trying to make trouble,” I said. “I just don’t want to be here.”

“Welcome to the club.”

I stepped back. He sighed, and his bushy white eyebrows relaxed just a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unfolding his arms and looking defeated. “It’s been a long day.”

He turned around and set the screwdriver on a shelf next to a mismatched array of other tools.

I glanced back at the destroyed vehicle.

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, wave a wand and say ‘Ho ho ho’ and fix it?”

He made a sound like a chuckle that couldn’t be bothered to happen all the way.

“I certainly wish that was an option,” he said. He walked toward the sleigh and waved me to follow. “You see this nav panel?”

It looked even worse up close. Wires poked out of the bottom of the panel, and the whole thing was covered in brutal scratches.

“This took us six months to fix last time the screen went out,” he said. “Just the screen. The whole thing’s held together with wire and duct tape and magic and probably the prayers of my mechanics. It’s the only one like it in the world, and the only thing that can get anyone in or out of the North Pole.” He rubbed his beard. “It wouldn’t be such a crisis if this were February, but—well.”

“You really don’t have a backup vehicle?” I said.

“Can’t,” he said shortly. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

He examined me through his spectacles, and I felt sick. Not only was I trapped in the world’s iciest corner with a man who shouldn’t exist, but I’d clearly ruined his night.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll go back to bed. I won’t cause problems.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be enough,” he said. “No disrespect, Holly, but you’re a wild card, and I can’t be worried about what you’re getting up to. We haven’t had a Humdrum visitor in—I don’t know how long.”

It was the second time I’d heard that word.

“What’s a Humdrum?”

“It means you don’t have magic,” he said. “You’re not even supposed to be here, but our ox is in the mire, as they say. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a cashier at a grocery store,” I said.

He frowned. The gesture was hidden beneath his beard, but it still made the rest of his face fall slightly.

“We don’t need one of those,” he said. “Perhaps Noelle can find a job for you.”

“A job?”

What kind of jobs did they even have around here? Sleigh bell ringer? Gingerbread architect? The literal last thing I needed was to get trapped at the North Pole and in another horrible dead-end reminder of my thousand academic and professional failures.

“You may as well take on some work around the place,” Santa said. “Since you’ve decided to make yourself at home.”

I couldn’t think of a decent argument. I pursed my lips while he watched me with his too-blue eyes.

He might be a jolly old elf, but he looked scary when he was staring me down like that.

“I guess I might as well,” I said.

“Better head back to your room and get some sleep,” he said, gesturing back up the metal stairs. “We might not get any sunlight in the winter here, but morning still comes early.”