Elves with Benefits (Reindeer Falls)

That ass.

I glare at him. Sure, the Swizzles are terrible, but he didn’t need to be so rude. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

I escort the couple out, apologizing to them the whole way. Then, with another glare over my shoulder, I speak up so that I’m certain Ryan can hear me.

“As I said,” I tell them. “He’s not Reindeer Falls material.”

Chapter Fourteen

There are few things that I look forward to more than the Reindeer Falls Christmas Fair. Every year, it seems like it would be impossible for Reindeer Falls to be any more magical. Like when you look under your Christmas tree and are sure you’ve opened up all of your presents, and you sigh because that’s it, that’s another year.

Except what’s that? Is that a tiny present that was hiding in the back that you didn’t see?

That’s what the Reindeer Falls Christmas Fair is to me. An extra shot of magic, and not just a shot, but a tidal wave of it, crashing over the entire town to make sure it really sparkles.

It’s not just the twenty-foot-tall tree in the center of it all. It’s not just the tiny merry-go-round with reindeer for the kids. It’s not the horse-drawn carriages or the mulled wine or the cookie-decorating contest. It’s all of that, but it’s more. It’s the whole town coming together like one big family on Christmas.

For the billionth time, I wonder about Ryan. About what he’s doing. How he is. If he misses me. But of course, it doesn’t matter. He’s been gone for weeks, back in Chicago, and clearly, I’m yesterday’s news.

I should stop thinking about him. Sutton and Lexi are doing their best to cheer me up. They even offered to read two Christmas books in January, but I just waved them off. Honestly, I’ve had enough of Christmas this year. I might even need to take an eleven-month break from it like most people do.

Still, I want to enjoy the Christmas Fair. I have to be here, anyway, at least in my official capacity. Christmas doesn’t happen by itself, even in Reindeer Falls. It’s part of my job, so I go around and check all the bows on lampposts, making sure they’re all regulation. Checking for safety hazards. Then there’s nothing else to distract me from my task in my unofficial capacity… as the Kissing Booth Elf.

Normally, I love being the Kissing Booth Elf. It’s a cute gig, and everyone knows it’s a PG kissing booth, meaning a chaste kiss on the cheek. But the problem with the kissing booth is that I have a direct view of the lights at the fair, twinkling icicles that look like stars suspended in the sky.

Normally, I make a wish on those lights. Last year, I wished for a Christmas romance. A totally cliché, Christmas romance. One with hot cocoa, snowball fights and sex in front of the fireplace. I even had the nerve to think it came true, until it fell apart when the so-called perfect Hallmark hero took himself back to Chicago.

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him. There was no adorable misunderstanding where Ryan said, ‘Maggie, you didn’t let me finish! I’ve realized the true meaning of Christmas is love and family and home and you are all of those things to me.’

Nope. That only happens in the movies.

Still, there’s no point crying over spilled eggnog. I might as well get this gig over. I plaster a smile on my face, climb into my booth, and adjust my jingle cap. “Kissing booth, now open for business!”

I’ve barely even opened my window when, suddenly, a Christmas mirage appears. Something borne of all of the snow, probably. Or maybe it’s my own hallucination, combined with my broken heart, that’s making me think that a man who looks an awful lot like Ryan Sheppard is running toward me with a fist full of tickets.

Sigh. Someone should really figure out something to cure broken hearts. I can’t be the only girl hallucinating about seeing a lost love at Christmas. At least I’ll be able to pretend I’m kissing Ryan one last time. I never did get a goodbye kiss. Or a goodbye fuc—

Wait.

The closer the mirage gets, the more he—“Ryan?!”

I stand on the chair in my booth to get a better look and knock my head on the roof. I sit back down to avoid another bump in the head as Ryan materializes in front me, clearly out of breath from running.

“I bought all the tickets,” he says, gasping for breath.

What? But… but why would he do that? Is this another trick? It must be, and he won’t be getting any Christmas naivety from me.

“Really?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because you can’t combine them for sexual favors. There will be no benefits from this elf tonight, Grinch.” Then I add, “Sorry, not sorry,” while glaring at him from beneath my elf hat.