Santa's Pet

Santa's Pet Read Free

Book: Santa's Pet Read Free
Author: Rachelle Ayala
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an amusement park because people thought he was the real Santa and started asking him for autographs.”
    “He does look like Santa. I bet in a lineup, the kids will pick him. What I don’t get is why he wears a beard year round.”
    “He loves the role, Brittney. It’s fun. Ever heard of the concept?”
    I roll my eyes back at her and turn away, scanning the rows and rows of carriers and cages. The doors haven’t opened yet, and already, I’m getting claustrophobic. Imagine what it’ll be like with hordes of noisy children and their whines to add to the din.
    As for fun, who has time? At twenty-one-years old, I’m the youngest CEO of a social media startup. My company, ScrapCloud, recently entered into a partnership with Shopahol, the world’s best social shopping network. With all the new features our customers demand, I’ve had to hire three engineers and one security expert just to keep up. Of course, it means I have to manage them when all I’d rather do is write code.
    I pull out my phone to check the software build.
    “Put that thing away.” Lacy pops into my visual field. “Elves from the North Pole don’t have cell phones.”
    “Who says?” I eye the build package as I note it had completed without errors.
    “Give it over,” Lacy says with her hand out. “You can stand eight hours away from work, can’t you?”
    “The weeks leading up to Christmas are critical for my company. Customers are continually updating their wish lists, and we need to make sure their friends and anyone connected to them can see the updates as well as the links to our partner retailers.”
    Lacy juts her jaw, not giving in. She never does—never cuts me a break. Ever since I was a baby, Lacy has set the standard. She learned to walk at eleven months; I didn’t until I was almost two. She sang and tap danced at three. I have two left feet and a voice hoarser than a donkey’s bray. She kissed her first boy in preschool. I … uh, well, would rather not say. Having braces all those years hadn’t helped, since I always wondered if I had a piece of salad caught between my teeth.
    “Fine, here.” I hand her my phone. “Where’s Grandpa Powers? The Santa throne’s empty.”
    “No need to worry. The first twenty minutes, no one is ready. The pre-approved people will be busy picking a pet, and the others are filling out an application. Just look for unsuspecting fathers who have no clue. Match their profile with a pet and lead them to Santa. Ready?”
    I heave a breath before realizing my bosom is ready to pop out. Tugging the fur up, I nod. “As ready as I can be.”
    “Okay, Dad, open her up.” Lacy waves toward our father who is standing at the barn door.
    “Yay!” A cheer rises from the young, happy voices waiting outside, and a stream of kids, from toddlers to high-school age spread out in the barn.
    “You got this, Britt.” Lacy squeezes my upper arm encouragingly. “I’ve got to get to the kissing booth.”
    “And your husband’s okay with it?”
    She wiggles her eyebrows. “Not just okay, he’s manning the booth with me. How about a bet? Kissing booth versus pet pictures. Loser buys winner dinner.”
    “Oh, no, that’s too easy. This bet has to hurt,” I counter. Now that I’m a real business leader, I’ve learned how to negotiate.
    “Name your price.”
    “It’s got to be something you’d never do in a million, billion years.” I chortle, thinking hard about Lacy’s phobias and dislikes.
    She narrows her eyes and grimaces, then snorts. “Bring it on. I’m not worried. Kissing booth dominates. With me and Brandon, twenty bucks a pucker, you’re out before we even pass ‘Go.’”
    Humpf. So overconfident, that sexy sister of mine. Well, I’ll fix her wagon. A light bulb sparkles in my brain. Ha, ha, she’s going to hate me now.
    I lift my chin and say, “Fine, I win and you’re not wearing makeup for a month.”
    “And if I win, you’re wearing makeup every day for a month.”

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