Mall I Want for Christmas is You: A Mall Santa Holiday Standalone Romance, Page 2

  A small yellow note was stuck to the front of Rudy's book. Bathroom.

  She smiled as she picked it up, relieved to know he was safe and the type of thoughtful kid who would leave a note so that she wouldn't worry. She wanted to get him a cell phone in a few years, but he still seemed too young.

  Being a single mother had certainly not been her first choice, but when the decision was between staying with an abusive alcoholic or protecting her son—and herself—then the choice had been clear. Rudy's father had been a repetitive mistake. They'd been high school sweethearts first, when things were easy and life was carefree. But then partying and drinking took over and neither one of them ended up graduating high school.

  Chrissy was damn proud of the fact that she'd worked hard to get her GED a few years later after she'd finally left Rudy's father for good. She was now taking classes at the local community college toward a business degree, and her goal was to own her own store one day. What type, she wasn't sure.

  Pretzels didn't seem so bad.

  Chrissy grabbed a pack of frozen pretzels from the commercial freezer and opened the bag. She dumped them into some boiling water with baking soda and watched them for a bit before turning them over. When she finished, she placed them on a sheet pan, salted them, and tossed them in the oven.

  "Mom!" Rudy's voice rang through the kitchen, echoing off all the metal and tile.

  She rinsed her hands in the sink and wiped them clean on some paper towel. "Hey, Rudy. How's the math going?"

  "I'm done," Rudy replied, but when she turned to look at him she found him standing hand-in-hand with Santa.

  Not that she believed in Santa. But she sure as hell believed in the chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes partially hidden under a messy white wig and fake beard. There was no way she didn't notice the way the suit rode up a bit too high on his ankles due to how tall he was, and she wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, but somehow…he didn't.

  "Uh…hello?" Chrissy cleared her throat and pulled Rudy toward her. "Can I help you?"

  "He's here to help you!" Rudy announced, grabbing her arm excitedly and yanking her down to his height. "He said he can teach you how to drive his sleigh."

  She stood up abruptly. "Rudy, go count the coins in the charity jar on the counter."

  "What?" Her son frowned. "But I brought you Santa!"

  "Please, kiddo. Mommy will be right there." Her eyes didn't leave the fake Santa, but she watched in her peripheral vision as Rudy reluctantly passed through the swinging front door and went up to the counter. She could still see him through the glass window as she slit her eyes at the imposter. "Who the hell are you and why are you making lewd comments to my son? I could have you put on the registry."

  The man lifted his hands defensively, looking alarmed as his eyes widened. "Whoa, whoa. I think there's been a mistake. I work here. Well, not here here. I work in the mall—I'm the mall Santa."

  Chrissy crossed her arms over her chest. "Then why are you in a pretzel shop following around a little boy? I will report you to the mall manager and the police if you don't get the hell out of here, creep."

  Santa pulled down his beard and slid off his hat, revealing short, thick brown hair that swept across his forehead with ease. His blue eyes were somehow even deeper without the distractions, and there was a faint stubble across his jaw that made her want to run her hand across it. "Okay, hold on. Your son approached me in the bathroom."

  "That's it." Chrissy pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "I'm calling 9-1-1."

  "Okay, I hear how that sounded." Santa rubbed a hand across his chin. "I'm Dash Winters. Your son asked me to teach you how to drive. He said he wants you to get a car, but that you don't know how to drive."

  She paused, her thumb hovering over the call button on her phone. "I know how to drive."

  "Oh." Dash took a step back, then chuckled and tossed his hands up. "Well, look at that. Santa's magic worked already."

  Chrissy glared at him, but her chest felt tight with guilt. "I told my son I don't know how to drive because it seemed better than telling he we can't afford a car."

  Dash was the one who looked guilty now. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  "Maybe you shouldn't make it a habit of following young boys you meet in a bathroom," she replied, feeling heat on her cheeks. "And, please, don't say anything to him."

  "I wouldn't," Dash assured her. "But I'd love to make it up to you both. Can I buy you dinner after your shift—and mine? I still have a line of kids waiting for me down the hall."

  Chrissy shook her head. "Thank you, but no. We have to catch the seven o'clock bus or we won't make it home before midnight. The bus system isn't the greatest."

  He nodded. "I remember that. I've spent my fair share of time on those things. What about tomorrow? I can come to you. Breakfast? Lunch? Brunch?”

  "Are you asking me out?" She cocked her head to the side. "Because if so, the answer is no. I don't date—especially not a mall Santa."

  Dash grinned and pulled his hat back on, readjusting his fake beard. He then patted his hands on his clearly-stuffed stomach. She wondered if he actually had a six-pack under all that fluff. "What was it that turned you off—the beard or the gut?"

  She smiled a little at that, then pointed down at his ankles. "Might have been the velvet Capri pants."

  He followed her gesture. "You got me there. This suit was not made for someone who is six foot four. It's shockingly itchy, too."

  Chrissy grimaced. "Thanks for the overshare."

  "Come on. Brunch tomorrow. You and Rudy. And it's on me." Dash picked up a notepad off the table Rudy had been doing his homework on and wrote something down. "Here's my number. Text me or call me later tonight and we'll set up the details."

  "I don't date mall Santas," she said again, but took the notepad as he offered it to her. "But, we do eat brunch."

  Dash grinned. "See you tomorrow, pretzel lady."

  "It's Chrissy, actually," she corrected him. “Chrissy Eve.”

  "See you tomorrow, Chrissy," he replied. "I promise to leave the suit at home."

  "Actually, you can't," she reminded him, then pointed toward the counter. "Rudy thinks you're Santa."

  He glanced in the direction she was pointing. "So…you're going to make me take you to a fancy brunch…dressed as Santa Claus?"

  "You offered." She grinned and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Dash let out a loud exhale. "Okay. It's worth it. I'll see you tomorrow. Full beard and all."

  With that, he headed out the back door that he'd first come through.

  Chrissy found herself standing there for a moment, trying to absorb everything that had just happened. Ever since she'd left Rudy's father, she'd been very careful about her love life and the people she hung out with.

  Which basically meant she never dated and she never saw anyone outside of family and a close friend.

  Despite their introduction, something about Dash seemed friendly and inviting. Rudy had seemed comfortable with him, but to be honest, she was looking forward to a big brunch tomorrow. It wasn't often she was able to take Rudy to a restaurant, and seeing the opportunity present itself, she couldn't say no.

  "Mom?" Rudy popped back in from the front counter. "Is something burning?"

  Her eyes widened as she glanced toward the oven to see dark smoke billowing out of the cracks on the side. "Shit!"

  "That's a bad word!" Rudy exclaimed. "I get ice cream tonight!"

  Crap. She'd thought she'd been a genius saving money by doing an ice cream swear jar instead of money. But now Rudy just ate a lot of damn ice cream. "Yes, yes. Okay, one scoop of ice cream after dinner."

  She rushed to the oven and pulled out the overly crispy pretzels she'd forgotten about with a padded mitt. Sighing, she dumped the batch in the trash and went to the freezer for a new bag. A few minutes later, she'd placed the new ones in the oven and made sure to set a timer on her phone.

  Rudy stuck his head back in from the
front counter. "Mom? Customer!"

  "Coming, baby," she replied, wiping off her hands as she headed back up to the counter. Her son was already chatting with the customer and making the young woman laugh. "Hi there. What can I get for you?"

  "Well, your son here has really sold me on the pumpernickel pretzels. He says they are his favorite!" the woman exclaimed. "I'll take two."

  Chrissy eyed her son suspiciously, but went ahead and rang up the customer and gave her the requested pretzels. When she was finished, Chrissy turned to Rudy. "You hate pumpernickel."

  He grinned so wide, it was almost ear to ear. "I know, but she doesn't know that."

  "So, you lied?" This was not the answer she'd wanted to hear.

  Rudy shrugged, then fished under the counter for the box of lollipops they sometimes handed out to kids. "I didn't lie. I was selling. No one buys the pumpernickel ones. If you talk them up a bit, it makes people want them more."

  "Who told you that?" Chrissy furrowed her brow, trying to decide what the best parenting move was here.

  Rudy rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious answer ever. "Grandpa. He said I can take over his shop one day if I learn to sell."

  Of course. Chrissy shook her head and sighed, watching her son pull the wrapper off a lollipop and stick it in his mouth. She wasn't particularly close with her parents, but they were great grandparents to her son. It had eased the tensions she'd felt toward them after their not-as-stellar job as parents. Thankfully, they lived far enough away—about an hour's drive—to be able to visit on the occasional weekend, but not every day.

  "You want to run a furniture store?" she asked as she refilled the napkin dispenser.

  “Definitely not. I want to be an architect.” Rudy began crunching on the lollipop, cracking it. “But Grandpa is really excited about the idea, so I let him talk to me about it. He said furniture is a solid job because nothing can replace it."

  "Standing can replace it," she teased.

  He laughed. "Then you sell them a standing desk!"

  Chrissy smiled. "Well, you might end up a pretty good salesman after all. Oh, by the way, don't talk to strange men in the bathroom again."

  "Santa isn't strange!" Rudy insisted, tossing out the used stick from his lollipop in the trash can. "He said he could help."

  "Baby, I don't want to learn to drive right now."

  He sighed. "But I hate the bus."

  "I know, but it won't be for much longer." There was that mom guilt again. Honestly, there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't feel it about something. If she could give Rudy everything his heart desired, she absolutely would. But things cost money, and that wasn't something she had a lot extra of lying around. "I did tell him we could have brunch together tomorrow, if you'd like."

  "We can?" Rudy's eyes lit up like he thought it was the best idea he'd ever heard. "He isn't busy making toys? Are we going to the North Pole?"

  "The elves gave him a short break tomorrow to come here. Do you want to go?"

  "Yes!" Rudy jumped up and threw his arms around her waist. "Thanks, Mom! Wait until I tell my friends! They are going to be so jealous. They never get to hang out with Santa."

  "Well, maybe this isn't something we rub in other people's faces," she reminded him, not sure how his friend's parents would appreciate that news. "Let's just keep it between us for now."

  Rudy nodded thoughtfully, as if he was giving it deep consideration. "Yeah, that's true. I don't want them to feel bad. Okay, I need to get my homework done so I can have fun tomorrow."

  With that, he headed into the back and she could see him sitting down at the table with his books and getting back to work. She smiled at his determination and responsibility that far surpassed the average second grader. At his age, her thoughts had been centered around herself and getting what she wanted, when she wanted it. Rudy, however, had a heart larger than she knew possible, and she couldn't help but think…maybe she did something right.

  Chapter Three

  Dash

  "Well, look who it is." Dash walked out of the employee exit of the mall toward the parking lot and nearly ran right into Chrissy and Rudy. "Funny seeing you two again."

  Rudy looked up at him, a confused expression on his face.

  "Uh, Rudy…this is…this is my friend, Dash. You haven't met him yet." Chrissy cleared her throat and quickly fumbled through an explanation while giving him the evil eye.

  Shit. He wasn't in his Santa suit. After his shift was finished, he'd changed back into the clothes he'd been wearing earlier. Which he was certainly now regretting given the reindeer ugly Christmas sweater situation.

  "Right," Dash quickly added. "Yes, I know your mom. From…somewhere else."

  Rudy furrowed his brow and looked up at his mom, clearly wanting more of an explanation.

  "Say hello," Chrissy encouraged him. "Dash is very nice. Dash, this is Rudy."

  "Hiya, Rudy.” Dash waved and gave the kid a big smile. "Nice to finally meet you. Your mom says the best things about you."

  "Hi," Rudy replied. "Nice to meet you."

  "What are you guys doing out here?" Dash asked, turning to look back at Chrissy now. "Shift over?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, we're just waiting for the bus."

  "It's pretty cold. Do you want a ride?" Dash pointed toward his Subaru in the lot. Rusty, but reliable. He wasn’t willing to get a new car as long as this one still ran. "It's not much, but it'll get us where we need to go."

  "Thanks, but we don't take rides from strangers," Chrissy replied, pulling her coat a little tighter around her.

  "But, he's not a stranger, Mom?" Rudy interjected. "You said he's very nice."

  Dash grinned, waiting for her explanation.

  She paused, looking between them. "Uh, well, yes. I did say that. That's true."

  "So, why can't he drive us?" Rudy wasn't letting up, and he was tugging on her coat sleeve now.

  Chrissy looked between Dash and her son, clearly trying to figure out a solution but coming up with nothing. "I guess it's not the worst idea in the world," she finally gave in.

  "Come on." He gestured toward his car and started walking. "I've even got heated seats!"

  She took Rudy's hand, walking behind him to the car. Chrissy paused at the front of the car and pulled out her cell phone, snapping a picture of his license plate. She then turned the camera to him and snapped a picture of him.

  "Uh, what are you doing?" Dash laughed, confused about the paparazzi approach.

  "I just texted both pictures to my friend." She shrugged her shoulders. "You know, insurance."

  Damn, this woman was smart. Of course he knew she was completely safe with him, but he loved that she was such a fierce Mama Bear that she'd take the extra step like that.

  "Want to take a picture of my license, too?" he asked, fishing out his wallet. "Just to be safe."

  "Actually, yes." She took it from him and snapped another photo. "Thank you."

  He hadn't actually expected her to take him up on that offer since it had mostly been a joke, but he laughed nonetheless. They all piled into the car—Rudy in the backseat and Chrissy in the front. She gave him instructions on how to get back to her apartment, and he pulled the car out of the mall parking lot.

  "Dash, where do you live?" Rudy asked from the back seat. "Is it near Cheer Court Complex? That's where we live."

  "I actually live on the North side, near Bright Pole. Right by the Son of a Bun Bakery." Dash felt a bit of heat creeping to his cheeks. The area he was describing was affluent, which his parents certainly were. It certainly wasn't the life he'd been used to living once upon a time.

  "Bright Pole?" Chrissy turned her head toward him, her eyebrows raised. "But you drive an old Subaru? And you’re a mall Santa?“

  He laughed. "My parents have money. Doesn't mean I do."

  Chrissy sucked air in between her teeth. "So…you live with your parents?"

  "In my defense, so does Rudy," he replied, shooting her a big grin.
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  She laughed at that one. "Okay. Okay. We all fall on hard times occasionally."

  "Occasionally, or habitually," he joked. Sure, he had big plans, but things had certainly not worked out the way he'd hoped so far. Still, he was optimistic about the near future and the big meeting he had coming up that could change everything. He’d been working hard toward his dream for years, and next month, he would find out if it paid off.

  "Mom, can I play on your phone?" Rudy asked, leaning forward between the two front seats. "I'm almost at a new level on Candy Crush."

  "Sure, baby." She dug around in her purse for a moment before coming up with her phone and handing it back to him.

  "You are trusting," Dash teased once Rudy's attention was fully engrossed in the phone.

  She furrowed her brow. "What?"

  "Just letting someone play with your phone like that? What if he looks through your pictures?" Dash asked, mostly joking and trying to provoke a reaction.

  Chrissy laughed. "Then he'll see a bunch of pictures of our cat, Dopey. I'm guessing your photo album looks a bit different?"

  "I plead the fifth," he replied, though his last batch of pictures had all been different Christmas decorations he'd sent to his mom for inspiration for the house.

  She shook her head. "Typical bachelor. Lives at home, drives a Subaru, has a photo album full of…" She glanced in the rearview mirror to check that Rudy was engrossed in her phone. "A bunch of dick pics."

  "You gotta admit though, the mall Santa part adds a new element," Dash countered.

  Chrissy laughed again, and he saw her physically relax into the passenger seat. "That was a twist, yes."

  "I like to keep people on their toes," he replied.

  "Why are you a mall Santa?" she asked. "I mean, I'm not judging. I work at a pretzel shop. But…you certainly seem a bit, uh, young for the job."