Read Online 'Tis the Season to Kiss Santa (Entangled Indulgence) by Kate Hardy - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Hardy
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Chapter One
“You want me to be Santa.” Mitch stared at his boss in disbelief. Was C.J. temporarily insane? Or had he eaten way too many candy canes from the box one of their clients had sent and was on the sugar rush to end all sugar rushes?
Mitch wasn’t Santa material. No way. No how. Hadn’t his last girlfriend even nicknamed him Ebenezer? Not that Mitch was ever mean with gifts; he just hated Christmas. For him, Christmas wasn’t the season of joy and goodwill. It was a season of misery, and he’d learned that the hard way. Nowadays, he always worked between Christmas and New Year so his colleagues who had kids could take time off and enjoy the holiday season with their families. It came with the bonus of being the perfect excuse for not being able to join his own family on the other side of the country for the seasonal fights.
Being Santa at a Christmas party for children just wasn’t him, Mitch knew. He was more than happy to give a donation to the party—a donation large enough to give the kids a great time—but actually being Santa, turning up and taking part…
“You can say no,” C.J. said idly.
But Mitch could read the subtext: if he said no, there would be consequences. Because this was most definitely a test.
He waited, hoping that his face looked a lot more inscrutable than it felt.
“I’m looking at retiring next year,” C.J. said.
Which was why Mitch had worked stupid hours for the last six months, proving that he was good enough to step into C.J.’s shoes.
“I need to be sure that whoever heads up the firm after me can keep all the balls in the air. So we run the best campaigns, for the best clients, with the best staff.”
“Uh-huh.” Mitch did all that already. And he knew C.J. knew it.
“But it’s not just about business. Holford’s has a heart,” C.J. said softly.
So that was what C.J. wanted him to prove? Being Santa would show that Mitch had a heart, too. That he’d lead from the front. And in C.J.’s book it was clear that leading meant having a heart.
Mitch didn’t agree. To make a business a success, you had to keep emotion out of it. As far as he was concerned, keeping emotion out of everything was the way to go.
Santa—or not Santa.
No. That wasn’t the real choice. Santa—or watch someone else take the job he’d worked for. And it irked him that he was being held to account like this.
“So you want me to wear a ridiculous costume and dole out presents to kids who probably won’t even get to play with them before their parents either break them in a fight or sell them to get money for their next bottle of booze,” Mitch said.
He regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth. Because it shed way, way too much light on his past. A past he’d kept from everyone in Philly.
But to his relief, C.J. didn’t seem to be focusing on what he’d just said. Luckily. “It’s at a hospice.”
Oh, hell.
Being Santa for terminally sick kids.
Mitch definitely didn’t have a choice. Not without seeming like the meanest-spirited person on the planet. “Okay. So I dress up as Santa and take a present to every bed? Is that it?”
C.J. shook his head. “It’s not for the kids in the hospice. It’s for their brothers and sisters. So just for an hour the focus is on them and they get to enjoy a little bit of Christmas. Even if the rest of the holidays turn out rough.”
In other words, if their siblings don’t make it through Christmas.
Mitch blew out a breath. C.J. might have a heart, but Mitch also knew that his boss was a hardheaded businessman. If C.J. did something, it was for a reason. And Mitch couldn’t quite work out the connection with the hospice. “May I ask, why the hospice?”
“This stays with you,” C.J. said. “Just as it stays with me that your parents drank, fought, and broke your toys every Christmas.”
Ah. So C.J. had been listening. And he’d worked out the rest of it for himself. Mitch wouldn’t make the mistake
“You want me to be Santa.” Mitch stared at his boss in disbelief. Was C.J. temporarily insane? Or had he eaten way too many candy canes from the box one of their clients had sent and was on the sugar rush to end all sugar rushes?
Mitch wasn’t Santa material. No way. No how. Hadn’t his last girlfriend even nicknamed him Ebenezer? Not that Mitch was ever mean with gifts; he just hated Christmas. For him, Christmas wasn’t the season of joy and goodwill. It was a season of misery, and he’d learned that the hard way. Nowadays, he always worked between Christmas and New Year so his colleagues who had kids could take time off and enjoy the holiday season with their families. It came with the bonus of being the perfect excuse for not being able to join his own family on the other side of the country for the seasonal fights.
Being Santa at a Christmas party for children just wasn’t him, Mitch knew. He was more than happy to give a donation to the party—a donation large enough to give the kids a great time—but actually being Santa, turning up and taking part…
“You can say no,” C.J. said idly.
But Mitch could read the subtext: if he said no, there would be consequences. Because this was most definitely a test.
He waited, hoping that his face looked a lot more inscrutable than it felt.
“I’m looking at retiring next year,” C.J. said.
Which was why Mitch had worked stupid hours for the last six months, proving that he was good enough to step into C.J.’s shoes.
“I need to be sure that whoever heads up the firm after me can keep all the balls in the air. So we run the best campaigns, for the best clients, with the best staff.”
“Uh-huh.” Mitch did all that already. And he knew C.J. knew it.
“But it’s not just about business. Holford’s has a heart,” C.J. said softly.
So that was what C.J. wanted him to prove? Being Santa would show that Mitch had a heart, too. That he’d lead from the front. And in C.J.’s book it was clear that leading meant having a heart.
Mitch didn’t agree. To make a business a success, you had to keep emotion out of it. As far as he was concerned, keeping emotion out of everything was the way to go.
Santa—or not Santa.
No. That wasn’t the real choice. Santa—or watch someone else take the job he’d worked for. And it irked him that he was being held to account like this.
“So you want me to wear a ridiculous costume and dole out presents to kids who probably won’t even get to play with them before their parents either break them in a fight or sell them to get money for their next bottle of booze,” Mitch said.
He regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth. Because it shed way, way too much light on his past. A past he’d kept from everyone in Philly.
But to his relief, C.J. didn’t seem to be focusing on what he’d just said. Luckily. “It’s at a hospice.”
Oh, hell.
Being Santa for terminally sick kids.
Mitch definitely didn’t have a choice. Not without seeming like the meanest-spirited person on the planet. “Okay. So I dress up as Santa and take a present to every bed? Is that it?”
C.J. shook his head. “It’s not for the kids in the hospice. It’s for their brothers and sisters. So just for an hour the focus is on them and they get to enjoy a little bit of Christmas. Even if the rest of the holidays turn out rough.”
In other words, if their siblings don’t make it through Christmas.
Mitch blew out a breath. C.J. might have a heart, but Mitch also knew that his boss was a hardheaded businessman. If C.J. did something, it was for a reason. And Mitch couldn’t quite work out the connection with the hospice. “May I ask, why the hospice?”
“This stays with you,” C.J. said. “Just as it stays with me that your parents drank, fought, and broke your toys every Christmas.”
Ah. So C.J. had been listening. And he’d worked out the rest of it for himself. Mitch wouldn’t make the mistake
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