Mall I Want for Christmas is You: A Mall Santa Holiday Standalone Romance Read online

  Mall I Want for Christmas is You

  A Mall Santa Holiday Standalone Novella

  Sarah Robinson

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Subscribe to Sarah’s Newsletter!

  Excerpt from Misadventures in the Cage

  Chapter 1

  Excerpt from NUDES

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  About the Author

  Also by Sarah Robinson

  Chapter One

  Dash

  Ho ho horrible.

  Dash Winters took one look at the frayed velvet red suit that the manager of Yule Heights Shopping Mall was handing him. "It's…um…it's very large."

  "Oh, right." The manager turned around and reached into a metal cabinet and pulled out two yellowed pillows without any pillowcases. It was clear that they'd been white once upon a time, but now…not so much.

  He grimaced at the mystery stains as the manager also handed him a thick Velcro belt. Honestly, the poor man couldn't have been older than Dash's foster father, but he spoke with a weariness that sounded ancient. "Here. Put the pillow against your stomach and wrap the band around you so it stays put. You'll look as holly jolly as any other mall Santa out there."

  "Great." Dash tucked the outfit and pillow under one muscled arm and sidestepped a leak of some mystery liquid from the paneled ceiling. "So, when do I start?"

  The harried manager tossed a fake white, curly beard at Dash which he barely caught in time. "What do you mean? You start now."

  "Like now now?" Dash had only come in for an interview, but he hadn't expected to get the job immediately. Not that he'd thought competition for mall Santa was all that intense. Especially considering his foster mother had called ahead as city councilwoman to pave the way for him.

  He tucked that embarrassing thought away.

  "There is already a line of kids waiting, and the Santa we've used the last few years was just arrested for driving under the influence," the manager sat down in his desk chair with a heavy thud. "I can't explain to a bunch of children that Santa drank too much milk with his cookies. So, you're it, kid."

  Dash bristled slightly at the term kid. He was, after all, twenty-eight years old. Though he knew he had a youthful look to him, it still hit a sore spot. Probably because he had returned to living in his childhood bedroom in his foster parent's house and was now employed full-time—at least for the next twenty-five days—as a mall Santa as a favor to his mother. Despite the unfortunate turn of events his life had taken, he was trying to look at the bright side. This was all for a purpose, and, in the end, it would be worth it.

  At least, that's what he hoped.

  "Thanks," he replied, pulling the chord for the beard around his neck and letting it hang down like a necklace. "Is there a place I should change?"

  The manager didn't even glance up from the computer he was now furiously typing away on. "The employee bathroom is at the end of the hall. The door next to the dumpsters."

  Of course it was.

  Dash nodded and headed out of the small office that looked more like a converted storage closet. It had absolutely no windows and was off a concrete hallway that ran the length of the mall behind the stores. Random containers or bags of garbage were sitting outside metal doors that were marked with a store's name—most of which he recognized—but then the rest of the hallway was just empty. The off-putting lights above him was missing several bulbs and there was a buzzing sound come from a flickering bulb behind him.

  He'd spent most of the last decade in Yule Heights, Michigan, after being placed with his foster parents—who he now considered just his parents—at age sixteen. He'd spent many Friday and Saturday nights loitering around this mall, but it had never occurred to him that there was an intricate behind-the-scenes set up connecting all the stores together and allowing a clear path to the garbage or parking lot without being seen by customers.

  The closer he got to his destination, the stronger the smell of garbage was. A small employee restroom sign was hanging crookedly from one nail on the back of a door at the end of the hall, and Dash quickly made his way inside and locked it behind him after he switched on the lights.

  He turned back around and surveyed the situation. The room was small enough that if he wanted to sit on the toilet and wash his hands at the same time, he certainly could. Dash hung the suit up on the back of the door, praying the rusty hook would hold. The walls were covered in crude drawings, graffiti, and flyers to someone's upcoming garage concert. He smiled slightly when he read the sloppy handwriting on the cracked mirror that said don't hate me because I'm beautiful, hate me because I fucked your dad. Someone else had written in another color and handwriting underneath, go home, mom, you're drunk.

  Okay, so it wasn't all bad.

  Dash made quick work of climbing out of his jeans and the ugly Christmas sweater with at least one hundred reindeer on it his mom had insisted he wear stating that it would nail the spirit of the interview. To be fair, she'd been right. The manager had taken one look at him and hired him on the spot.

  The red pants for the Santa suit hung loosely around his legs, despite the fact that he had generally pretty thick thighs and calves. He spent one to two hours a day working out at the Planet Fitness on the other side of the mall since he didn't have much else to do with his time these days.

  Another part of the reason his mother had demanded he get a job and get out of the house.

  His phone started buzzing from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He fished it out and hit the answer button, accepting the video call from his older foster sister, Nell, as he propped the phone up on the bathroom sink.

  "Oh, God." Nell immediately groaned through the phone. Her bright purple hair was tossed over her shoulder and he could tell from the background behind her that she was in her small kitchen apartment. She had an unusual obsession with roosters and her kitchen was decked out in cock-a-doodle-doos. "Where the hell are you? And why are you naked?"

  "I have pants on." He pointed the camera down to show his bright red pants. "I'm trying to strap these pillows to my waist."

  Her face scrunched up with even more confusion. "You're what?"

  Dash held up his Santa hat to remind her.

  Nell laughed, then took a bite of something off a large spoon from her stove. "I forgot you were doing that. Lilian really wasn't kidding, was she?"

  "Mom doesn't have a sense of humor, but she tries," Dash replied, finally getting the two pillows anchored to his stomach. He pulled the jacket overtop and attempted to button it up. "She's been asking if you're coming for Christmas Eve dinner, by the way."

  "I know." Nell sighed and leaned down, propping herself up on her elbows in front of the camera. "I'm thinking about it."

  "Come on, Nell. You know how much it would mean to her. Plus, none of us know what’s going on with your life lately. You’re like a vault.” Dash pulled on the hat and adjusted his fake beard. He put out his hands in triumph. "There. Do I look like Saint Nick?"

  Nell grinned and shook her head. "I'm going to need to come down to the mall sometime soon to watch you in action."

  "You wouldn't dare," he threatened. "Gotta go, Nell. Christmas is calling."

  She gave a quick wave and then disappeared from the screen. Dash grabbed his phone and tucked it into the waistband on his p
ants since he couldn't seem to find a pocket. Previous girlfriends had always complained about pants without pockets, but it wasn’t until this moment that he realized how truly irritating that was.

  Dash quickly tucked his previous clothes in an old grocery store bag and then left for the center of the mall. He was familiar with the Santa's Village set that was constructed in the mall's main hallway every winter, though he'd never actually participated in it before. Hell, he'd never done any sort of Santa or Christmas-themed activity until he'd moved in with the Winters. After they'd adopted him, he began to follow along with their Christmas traditions, of which there were many. The Winters did not play around when it came to holiday spirit. Their house was professional decorated, appropriately fake-snowed, and lit up bright enough to be seen the next county over.

  "Santa!"

  The moment Dash stepped out into the mall walkway, several little kids waved to him from behind ropes. His eyes widened as he tried to count how many children were in line, but he couldn't even see the end.

  Dash waved to the crowd as a hefty, sweaty man wearing a too-tight elf costume came rushing toward him. "Uh, hello?"

  "It's about time," the elf growled, grabbing the grocery bag from his hand and tossing it behind some fake presents. "Get up in your chair. Time is money, and Santa has a quota."

  "He does?" Dash furrowed his brow. He was beginning to realize he should probably have asked more questions about the job to the other guy. "Oh, okay. I'll get started. What's your name?"

  "Donner," the grumpy elf replied, speaking through a clenched smile that was clearly for show. "Now, let's go. I bring the kids to you, they tell you what they want. You promise them whatever they're asking for, hand them a little wrapped trinket, snap a picture for mom, and, lather, rinse, repeat."

  Dash took his seat in the large red and gold throne, then waved a white-gloved hand at the line of children. Donner went to the front of the line and invited the first kid and her mother up to meet him in a sing-song voice that was clearly not his natural aggravated tone.

  "Well, ho, ho, ho, young one," Dash greeted the little girl as he helped her up onto his knee. "And what are you asking Santa for Christmas this year?"

  "I want a unicorn. But it has to be rainbow." She began describing the intricate details of her unicorn dream and Dash just nodded along, chuckling. He promised her that he would see what he could do, and then they smiled for the formal photographer and for the mom who snapped a few cell phone pictures.

  Next up was a slightly older boy, though he couldn't have been more than eight years old. Dash encouraged him to come on up, but the kid's feet were like concrete and he refused to move. His mother was pushing him forward, whispering harshly in his ear to go.

  "Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!" Dash greeted him once he was close enough.

  The boy burst into tears and took off at a run. The mother apologized profusely and then went to chase after him.

  "Rough start, Klaus." Donner shook his head and then turned a wide smile back to the crowd. "Next!"

  An hour went by so fast, he hadn't even realized that he wasn't anywhere near the end of the line yet. In fact, it seemed like the line was just getting longer. Given that it was the middle of the day on a Saturday in early December, this wasn't exactly shocking.

  It was, however, exhausting.

  Dash enjoyed chatting with the kids about their Christmas wishes and he'd heard everything from wanting the latest Xbox to wanting parents reunited after a divorce. Despite his enjoyment, children were an incredible amount of energy. As a single man with no kids in his current life, he hadn't been fully prepared for both the volume and stickiness of this younger generation.

  "Can I take a quick five?" Dash asked his elf helper between children. He glanced down at the wet candy cane stuck to his glove. "I just need to get some water. And maybe wash my hands."

  Donner nodded and pulled the rope across the front of the line. "Santa's needed in his workshop! He'll be back in five minutes!"

  There were a few groans from the families in line, but Dash tried not to feel guilty. He was technically only getting paid thirteen dollars an hour for this job, and he already needed a nap.

  He'd move as quickly as possible, but there was no way in hell he was going back to that employee restroom by the dumpster.

  Ignoring the awkward stares, Dash made his way—in full Santa gear—to the customer's bathroom off the main corridor. There was a short line of men waiting, but they were moving much quicker than the extensive line winding its way out of the ladies’ room next door.

  "Uh, you can go ahead of me, Santa," a young man stepped aside in line and offered him his spot.

  He considered it for a moment, but he was in a rush. "Thanks, man."

  "No problem. I don't want to be on your naughty list!" The young man was laughing now, and Dash rolled his eyes, but cut in front of him anyway.

  After a quick visit to a stall, Dash found himself at the wide, multi-person sink trying to scrub off the candy cane now glued to his glove. A young boy came up to the sink next to him and began washing his hands, but his gaze was glued to Dash's reflection in the mirror before them.

  Dash gave him a polite smile, then returned to his task.

  The young boy pushed up on his tiptoes in order to turn off the faucet. He paused and turned to face Dash. "Are you…are you Santa?"

  He glanced down to see bright green eyes peeking out at him from under a thick mop of shaggy brown hair hanging low on the boy's forehead. “What?”

  "Are you…um, are you Santa?"

  Dash pulled his glove back on after he'd gotten off as much of the candy cane remnants off as possible. He smiled at the boy and deepened his voice. "I am. Merry Christmas!"

  "My mom said we could come see you, but she's working all day," the young boy explained. "Can I tell you what I want for Christmas even though we're in a bathroom?"

  Another man walked past them to the open sink, side-eying him. Dash cleared his throat and then got down on one knee. "Sure, kid. What's your name?"

  "I'm Rudy." The boy beamed and straightened, standing taller. "Last year, you got me a model-making kit. I made a replica of the Eiffel Tower.”

  “That’s pretty cool,” Dash replied, chuckling and giving his best ho ho ho in the throaty laugh. "How'd it turn out?"

  “Great! I love it! I still play with it," Rudy confessed. He was fidgeting with his hands now. "But, this year, can I ask for something for my mom?"

  Dash tilted his head to the side. He smiled at the sweet concern on the boy's face. "Well, sure. Moms need Christmas gifts, too."

  Rudy nodded. "I made her a picture with my teacher, too.”

  "Great job," Dash replied.

  The boy stepped a little closer and lowered his voice slightly. "I was hoping you could teach my mom how to drive a sleigh."

  He paused, considering the strange request. "You want me to teach your mom how to drive a sleigh?"

  "She's terrible at driving," Rudy continued. "And she said that's why we don't have a car. But sleighs are harder to drive than cars, right? So, maybe if she learns how to drive a sleigh, then she can drive a car!"

  "That is…well, that is some sound logic, son," Dash said with a laugh. "I can see this is important to you."

  "It is," Rudy agreed. "I don't want to keep taking the bus everywhere. It's so smelly, and we have to get up so early to make it across town for her shift on weekends. I know she says it's fine, but I can tell she hates it, too."

  Dash felt a thump in his chest as he pictured this little boy on a bus every weekend accompanying his mom to work. He certainly wasn't a stranger to buses. Hell, he'd spent most of his childhood using that as his sole means of transportation. Since finding the Winters, however, his life had changed dramatically. He had been gifted a car that he loved and refused to get rid of even years later when it had certainly seen better days. "Uh, so…where's your mom, kid?"

  "I'll bring you to her!" Rudy grabbed his gloved hand
and started pulling him toward the door. "Then you can tell her in person!"

  Dash allowed himself to be led away, trying to figure out how he'd explain to Donner that he was teaching someone to drive a sleigh on his short bathroom break.

  Well, won't that be awkward.

  Chapter Two

  Chrissy

  "One cinnamon sugar pretzel, and one original, please," the elderly gentleman stated as he got to the front of the line.

  Chrissy Eve looked up from the register she was standing in front of on the other side of the counter at Twisted Bread, a hole-in-the-wall pretzel shop in the middle of Yule Heights Shopping Mall. "We're out of cinnamon sugar, unfortunately. Would you like to try our holiday peppermint pretzel?"

  The man scrunched up his face. "Ah, I think I'll just do two originals, please."

  She nodded and rang up his order quickly, swiping his card and then pulling on plastic gloves to grab his pretzels. Normally there were two people on shift on Saturdays, but her usual coworker, Holly, had called out at the last minute. She wasn't exactly surprised since Holly was a young community college student who often was hungover on Saturday mornings after her previous evening's plans. It was still frustrating, however, and she'd asked the owner of the franchise to hire more dependable staff, but he'd been dragging his feet.

  "Here you go." Chrissy handed the pretzels to the man and then sighed in relief to see that there was no one else in line behind him at the moment. They'd just had a surge, but that's how it tended to be—all or nothing.

  She headed for the kitchen to check on her son and throw some extra pretzels in the oven for the afternoon rush. "Rudy?"

  There was a small table set up by the phone attached to the wall that had Rudy's open school books on it, but he was nowhere to be found. She wasn't going to panic. Despite the fact that Rudy was only seven years-old, he was more mature than kids twice his age. While she was proud of how advanced he was, there was still that guilt that he'd had to learn to be that way because of how difficult their circumstances had been.