Santa's Pet Read Free Page A

She sticks out her hand to shake.
    “Ha, ha, gotcha.” I chuckle at how one-track her mind is. “I already wear a little mascara.”
    “Oh, no, that’s not all. I win and I will personally put your makeup on like I did today. False eyelashes, eye shadow and liner, even a beauty mark on the side of your cheek.”
    “You’re not going to win.” I wiggle my pinkie to shake.
    “We’ll see about that.” She hooks her pinkie around mine and tugs, smiling. “May the best woman win. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of kissing to do.”
    With that, she saunters from the barn, wiggling her butt and attracting attention even though she’s eight freaking months pregnant and wearing a faux-fur lined Red Riding Hood Christmas outfit with a giant green bow tied over her baby bump.
    “Ho, ho, ho,” a loud deep voice booms. It’s Santa, holding a large bag over his shoulder and waving to the kids.
    Is it my imagination or has Grandpa Powers grown? The flowing beard covers his face and he walks straight and tall, rather he swaggers like one of the cool dudes in school.
    Bad health, my left foot. Lacy loves to exaggerate and she’s always telling tales. That’s marketing for you.
    “Santa, Santa!” the children cheer and follow him like he’s the pied piper from the North Pole. Behind him, a fat, out-of-shape monstrosity of a dog waddles, wearing an oversized red Santa outfit that drags on the ground. His Santa hat droops over his eyes, but he trudges forward, oblivious to the children swarming around.
    “Hey, Miss.” Someone taps me. It’s a man, of course, and his eyes are addressing my boobs.
    “What can I do for you?” I ask in a pleasant voice.
    “Let your puppies come out to play.” He leers at my cleavage and practically has his tongue hanging out.
    “Go play with your own,” I pause. “If you can find it.”
    I don’t wait for his reaction. That kind of guy doesn’t deserve a dog or cat or bird. I hope he leaves.
    A hand taps my bare arm. It’s the sleazebag again.
    “I’m pre-approved. Help me pick a puppy.”
    “Are you ready to take a picture with Santa?” I ask. “Because I’ll take your donation when you’re ready.”
    I flounce around and stalk toward Santa and his throne. Grandpa Powers would never let anyone speak to me so disrespectfully.
    “Who are you, anyway?” The douchebag jumps in my path, not giving up. “Last year I was here, and this really nice elf helped me find my kitten.”
    “And where’s your cat now?”
    “It ran away, so I’m back for a puppy.”
    I grab his application and zero in on the question about previous pets. Just as I thought. The slimeball didn’t answer it.
    “Sorry, bud, you lied on your application. We can’t have irresponsible people losing cats and dogs.” Without waiting for him to answer, I rip it in two.
    “Whatever happened to customer service?” the man exclaims loudly. Several people stop and look toward us to see what the commotion’s about.
    “The pets are not being sold, and you’re not a customer. You’re a pet loser.” I ball up the application and toss it at him.
    Unfortunately, throwing overhand like a man makes my boobs bounce back and forth, threatening to overflow the fur-lined trim.
    That shuts everyone up.
    My face boiling hot, I turn quickly and stalk toward Grandpa Powers, ready for a hug and a ho, ho, ho. The only reason I believed in Santa Claus for so long is because of that sweet old man.
    Maybe I still believe, because for me, Grandpa Powers is Santa Claus.
    ~ Ben ~
    Ben’s muscles bulged dangerously under the Santa suit. If it wasn’t for the little girl sitting on his lap asking to adopt a black labradoodle, he would have rushed to the rescue of that sexy elf. Whoever she was, she didn’t look like the Lacy he’d remembered. But then again, that was ten years ago.
    No woman deserved to be ogled and harassed. Granted her boobs practically spilled from that skimpy elf outfit—one that looked more