“This is fucking ridiculous…” Jack peered through the windshield of his black Mercedes-Benz, scowling. How on Earth was every single parking spot taken? Fort Trent had an enormous Bennington’s Department Store, and an even bigger parking lot. Fort Trent itself could fit ten times over inside this damn parking lot, yet there wasn’t a free space in sight. Teeth gritted, he floored it down this section and turned sharply to have a go at the next one, ever alert for the sign of brake lights and cars hedging out of their space. He’d find one eventually. No one was there to live in Bennington’s. They all had to leave at some point.

A quick check of the dashboard told him he had an hour to shop, maybe less, before Maya was finished with her Christmas concert practice. Why a bunch of kindergarteners needed to go to school on a Saturday just to dance around and sing off-key escaped him, but she had seemed excited about it that morning, so he kept his opinions to himself.

But weekends were their only time together. It was Dad and Maya time. Jack couldn’t help it if it bothered him to be missing out on three precious hours of Dad and Maya time.

Two rows over, a station wagon slowly backed out of a spot, and he blitzed through the lot, taking the turn just a little too fast, tires skidding slightly on the slush-laden pavement, and slamming on the brakes to allow for the beat-up wagon to get out. He waited, flicking on his turn signal when cars started to line up on either side of the lane. No way was he letting someone sneak in there because he hadn’t signaled his intention to park. Fuck that.

But this was what he got for coming here on a Saturday in December. That breathtaking sales associate, Elise, had told him the doll shipment would be ready on Thursday—which told him they were already in stock and for some reason she hadn’t been allowed to give him one the last time he had come looking, but whatever. Unfortunately, work had consumed him all week long, which meant the only time he could get over to the department store was a Saturday.

Which was, of course, a mistake. Every other sap who worked during the week also used Saturday to shop for Christmas gifts this time of year. It was a fucking madhouse and he wasn’t even inside yet.

As soon as the station wagon was clear, he whizzed into the spot, cutting off the car across from him—who, he might add, had arrived after he did—that tried to lurch in ahead of him.

Ha. He glanced in his rearview mirror at the sound of a long, pronounced honk, then waved as the driver flipped him off. Let him be angry. This was Jack’s spot. Another check of the time told him he had about forty minutes to get in, grab the doll, wait in some obnoxious line at the register, then get back to Maya’s school.

Luckily for him, the elementary school was a quick two towns over, a breezy twenty-minute drive down country roads where there usually wasn’t another car for miles. While Bennington’s might have been a madhouse today, Fort Trent and the villages around it were the same as always: quaint, quiet, and peaceful. He and his ex-wife had chosen the region for the wholesome family values vibe it had, both of them wanting to raise Maya somewhere safe. Sure, it took him an hour to get to and from work every day, but Maya loved her school and her friends and the outdoors, so it was all worth it.

He might think otherwise, however, after today. While a total nightmare for cars, the Bennington’s parking lot was even more chaotic for pedestrians. Carts everywhere. The air cold and crisp, the crunch of thick salt pellets underfoot and fucking up his shoes. Cars whizzed around—something he’d contributed to, sure. Kids blitzed through the lot while haggard parents tried to keep up.

It wasn’t until he reached the front doors that he realized why, on top of it being the Christmas season, it was so nuts today.

Santa was in town—at this very store, in fact.

“Perfect,” he said, sighing. Maya would have loved to sit on Santa’s knee and tell him all about the blue-haired Miss Molly she saw on TV, but there was no way in hell Jack was coming back here. Mom could handle the Santa visit this year. After today, Jack was done with anything even remotely resembling a shopping mall until next year.

As soon as those sliding doors opened, an onslaught of conversations, shopping carts crashing, and kids screaming assaulted every one of his senses. He would have retreated had a crowd not formed behind him, herding him into the belly of the beast. The parking lot might have been madness, but this was hell—literal nine rings, fire burning, lakes of lava hell.

Working here must have been a nightmare.

The notion made him think of Elise, and he hurried to the toy section, hoping she might be working today. After all, she had promised to be there on Thursday, and Jack was the one who had bailed.

Not that anything had been set in stone.

He just thought… Well, she had appeared interested in him, anyway. Pretty sure all that blushing and wit wasn’t some mandatory customer service shtick to get him to buy something. Elise had definitely been flirting—as had Jack, though he could fully acknowledge he was shit at it after years of being tied up with work, childrearing, and, you know, divorce aftermath.

Not that he had much time in his life for dating as it was, but the fact that he’d thought about her and remembered her name, well over a week later, had to mean something.

Unfortunately for him, neither Elise nor Miss Molly was in the toy department. Well, there were certainly Miss Molly dolls—a whole aisle of them, in fact, having pushed her competitor to much smaller shelf space elsewhere. Now, finding a blue-haired Miss Molly… That proved impossible. Jack dug through all the boxes, hoping someone might have hidden one in the back so they could return for it later.

Nothing.

He tried the other aisles—also nothing. He tried to find an associate who might be able to look in the stockroom—still nothing. Fifteen minutes later, frustrated and a little sweaty, the beginnings of a headache creeping from the back of his head to just behind his eyes, Jack threw in the towel and decided to come back another day. Clearly finding this fucking doll with blue hair—that was permanently sold out online, he might add—was going to be more difficult than he’d thought, but no way was he going to let Maya down. Christmas morning, Maya would shred that wrapping paper and find a head of blue hair awaiting her, damn it.

Teeth gritted, he weaved his way through the store, wanting to shout, “It’s only December tenth, for Christ’s sake! You still have time to shop!” Instead, he kept his mouth shut, save for the brief apology uttered to the elderly woman who slammed her cart into him so she could riffle through a box of discount stuffed animals. There were so many people around him, herding him, corralling him, that he somehow ended up in the middle of the department store—and right at Santa’s village.

While it was mobbed with kids and parents and strollers, at least this was organized chaos. With the Big Man watching through his half-moon glasses, the little monsters present were on their best behavior.

And no wonder. The elf on duty appeared to be giving the gaggle of little boys at the front of the line a stern talking-to after stopping one from kicking the nearby cardboard snowman holding a North Pole sign. Jack slipped his hands in his pockets, grinning as the troop hung their heads in shame—Santa was judging them, and his elves would tell him everything.

When the elf straightened, Jack’s jaw dropped.

No. It couldn’t be.

That horrendous holiday vest she’d been wearing last week was bad enough, but this…

Jack squinted, then held in a laugh. The elf was most definitely Elise. He’d recognize that beautiful black hair anywhere, paired with a set of blue-green eyes that made him think of the waters in St. Tropez. They had ensnared him instantly the first time he met her.

And now here she was, in a pair of bright red leggings, a green and white dirndl that fell to mid-thigh and cupped her ample bust a little too well, and a pair of enormous elf ears attached to a red hairband. Oh, and the curly shoes with bells on the end—the pièce de résistance of the whole outfit.

Once the photographer was done with the current kid on Santa’s knee, another elf—male, also in too-tight leggings and a flouncy blouse like he was on the cover of a sappy romance novel—ushered the child out while Elise walked the latest arrival in. Jack watched, unable to help himself, as she held a toddler’s hand and slowly, painfully so, marched along the red carpet, straight to jolly St. Nick seated on his Christmas throne.

When she straightened up, her eyes cut directly across the Winter Wonderland setting, passed the velvet ropes keeping the masses at bay, and landed right on him. A jolt of heightened awareness shot through Jack’s body, and for a second, he had no idea what to do with himself.

Fuck. Shit. Wave, you idiot.

Not wanting to look like a complete stalker—after all, he had been standing there staring at her with no kid in tow—he managed a little half wave and a grin.

Instantly the blush was back, coloring her already slightly flushed cheeks.

She recognized him.

Elise had remembered him, too.

Jack suddenly realized he was smiling like an idiot, right there in the middle of department store madness—but then again, so was Elise. Staring at each other. Smiling.

Good grief.

Nice ears, Jack mouthed, pantomiming them on either side of his head. Her eyes narrowed slightly, smile shifting to more of a pursed smirk. The distraction proved costly, however. Seconds later, the toddler on Santa’s knee bit Elise’s finger, clamping down hard enough to make her cry out.

Parents, the photographer and his assistant, and the other elf rushed to her aid, yet Jack suddenly found himself wanting to leap over that red velvet rope to see if she was okay. The horde around him kept him at bay. As the clamor died down within Santa’s village, he caught sight of a manager—evidenced by the fact that she wasn’t wearing a horrendous holiday vest and had a shiny metal name tag—whisking Elise away. Holding her bloodied finger to her chest, she didn’t look back.

Jack frowned, weaving through the crowd, and tried to catch up on the other side of the village. Gone. Not wanting to leave without checking on her, and feeling partially responsible for distracting her, Jack loitered around the department store until the final possible second, but was eventually forced to leave to ensure Maya wasn’t the last kid waiting to be picked up after practice.

His vow never to set foot inside Bennington’s was already broken, of course, and he hoped that when he returned next week, Elise would be working—but not as one of Santa’s most faithful. He wanted to confirm that her finger had survived its brutal mauling.

And, if he were a braver man, offer to kiss it better.