Santa's Little Helper - 1. Story

I hated my job. Well, at least the one I was 'volunteering' for at the behest of my boss, the General Manager of Fair Oaks Mall. I actually loved working as the Assistant Operations Manager, but this... this was wearing thin very quickly. And I looked like a dork.

I downed the rest of my coffee in my cubicle before slipping on the vest I had agreed to wear and rising to head out. I scowled at Paula in the desk next to me when she let out a muffled snort of laughter.

"Oh, come on, Dean, you look..."

My glare sharpened.

"...cute," she finished with a wide grin.

I rolled my eyes. The rest of the office was peeking around their cubicles to take a gander at the bright red and green sweater-vest—with bells—I had donned. And a fucking pointy hat.

I heard a surreptitious chuckle from somewhere in the cubicle maze. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead, laugh it up." I waved at my fellow minions to get it out of their systems. They did it every day anyway when I headed out like this; why should today be any different?

I held back my own smirk as they all stood from their desks and offered me a standing ovation while snapping photos with their cell phones. Yep, those would be on Facebook soon, I was quite certain. At least, I livened up their day a bit, especially now, at our busiest season. November and December were crazy anyway with the holiday shoppers, but add in Santa, and it reached insane pretty quickly. Especially after Thanksgiving.

And even more so when we were short staffing for the Santa visits. Fortunately, 'Santa'—Chris—was still holding up to the horde descending on him daily, but we had come up short this month with the 'other' helpers. Hence, our boss 'requesting' for volunteers to fill in the gaps.

So I wasn't the only one of our team who had to dress up in this... cheery outfit; however, I was the one who did it the most. Because I didn't have a family to rush home to. Because I could rearrange my schedule and stay late to finish work. Because I had no life.

Because work was my life.

I hadn't had time to meet a nice guy to spend my free time with yet. Dating Josh in college had been one thing, but neither of us had been ready for much more than a casual relationship then. And working my way towards a manager position had been my only goal since.

Although, as I looked down at my sparkly red and green sweater-vest, maybe I should rethink that.

Oh, we were paid, of course, but still... this was not what I had in mind with my degree in Business Administration. Some of the other guys found it fun to play 'elf' for a couple hours, but they hadn't endured it as much as I had. I'd put in over forty extra hours in the last two weeks because no one else had the extra time to commit. Most were running off to pick up their kids afterschool, heading off to school plays, holiday parades, and shows, squeezing in their own Christmas shopping, preparing for in-laws...

Watching Paula tell her girls she couldn't make it home on time just the once had been enough to guilt me into 'The Costume' more hours than I would have preferred.

So, here I was heading to relieve, again, the one seasonal helper who hadn't quit after being snapped at by demanding parents, screamed at by kids frightened of 'the strange man in the beard', or puked on by babies just having been fed by their mothers while waiting in line.

Oh, I know, I should be focusing on the joy of the season: the giddy excitement of meeting Santa, the smiles from children as they thought their dream presents would be delivered now that they'd imparted their desires to the man himself, the tears of joy of mothers having their baby's first picture with Santa.

Those were wonderful moments, yes. Unfortunately, the not so pleasant ones tend to overshadow those. It's tiring, even though I know I should be happy these families came here, to my mall, to meet with Santa... and of course, shop.

"Thanks, Dean!" Nancy called out. "You know the kids love you better anyway."

I wasn't so sure about that.

"You make a great elf!" Jim agreed, slapping me on the back as I walked by.

"Yeah, yeah, send the gay guy to dress like an idiot," I grumbled half-heartedly. "And it's Santa's aide. I'm not an elf."

An awkward hush fell over the room before I'd even finished. Damn.

"Hey," Robert called softly as he walked over and wrapped his arm over my shoulders before I could escape. "You know none of us thinks like that, right?"

He'd turned me to face the others, standing there looking abashed. I did know. I had great co-workers; they had never treated me any differently because of my sexuality. I knew they'd be calling Jim 'cute' too if he had to dress in this outfit. As the youngest, I usually got teased more about my age than anything else. I was just feeling so damn grumpy after so many hours dealing with demanding kids, especially those who expected Santa to drop the latest xbox or iPhone in their stocking. And every time one pulled on poor Chris's beard I wanted to smack them.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I sighed, offering a wan smile. "I was just joking, that's all. Just being a grinch. Some of those kids can be so..."

"Hey, I can call Jan and let her know I'll be home late tonight—" Henry offered at the same time as Jenny spoke up.

"I'll do tomorrow if—"

I held up my hands to stop their offers. I hadn't meant to make them feel guilty for not volunteering as many hours. "No, no, I'm fine. I chose to take the extra hours. You all have family—"

"You're our family here," Ian stated to the agreement of the rest of the team. "If you're that stressed—"

"I'm fine. I promise," I chuckled, grateful for the reassurance that I mattered at least a little.

"How about after this whole Christmas mess is over, we go out for a few drinks?" Jim's arm over my shoulders pulled me in closer as he added, "Maybe we can work on finding you a nice guy to—"

"Ohhh, no, no-no-no-no. Just No." I backed away, shaking my head as Paula and Jasmine both had also started nodding eagerly at the idea. "No one is setting me up. Thank you very much, but no."

"How about just the drink then?" Ian chirped up.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" Robert quipped with a smirk.

I flipped him off, causing the rest of the team to laugh. At least, they were all back to teasing and joking. I turned to the door again. "I better go, or Stacy will be late getting off."

"Have fun, Dean!" my co-workers chorused behind me.

I gave a wave, feeling a little bit better about serving as Santa's helper, knowing how much my team appreciated my efforts. I decided I'd get them all a Starbucks gift card with the extra money I was taking in.

"No climbing and sitting on any shelves!" Ian called out before the door started to close behind me.

I whirled and stuck my head back in. "I'm not a fucking elf. I'm Santa's aide."

"Tomato, tomah-to."

I ducked back out laughing.

I made my way through the food court, to many grins and chuckles from the various patrons. Down the glass escalator and I was stepping out to the center court to the massive holiday display. A huge fake 'mountain' had been erected in the center, with reindeer and elves and gifts dotting the edges of it. The line wove through the mountain, offering a sparkling 'snow' display inside for entertainment during the wait.

Santa—Chris—rested in a massive chair with room for the kids to sit next to him, rather than on his poor knees every time. Chris was a good guy, older, with his own full beard and white hair. He'd made a great Santa for the last three years. He was the first guy we called each season to see if he wanted to play Santa again. He was a retired vet, his own kids grown and moved away, so he actually seemed to enjoy playing Santa to the young ones.

I was pleased this year with the company we had hired to run the photo station. Fortunately, the photo company staffed that part, since they had to be trained with the equipment. We just had to provide Santa and Santa's helpers, who maintained the line. Usually, Bea was staffing the camera along with her daughter Heather, and I was glad to see the both of them there now. Things usually went smoother with them as Bea and Heather were great at getting the best smiles from irritable toddlers.

I stalked through the atrium, taking in the long line of parents and kids waiting for Santa to return from his break. Stacy was monitoring the line, making sure no one played on Santa's chair or ripped the fake candy canes from the display. The holiday music could barely be heard above the noise of the crowd.

I closed my eyes briefly, searching for my sense of peace and joy of the holiday season.

"When's he gonna be back?!"

"We've been waiting for over an hour!"

Annnd, there it went. Bye, gone. Deep breath again.

"As you can see on the sign," I stated as I approached, pointing at the large display stand, "Santa has to take a break every so often to go check on the reindeer." Big, fucking smile. "He will be back at five like it says on the sign."

"He doesn't need an hour and a half to check on some damn reindeer," the man snapped back.

Stacy tried not to roll her eyes, but I could tell she was at her wits end after working since nine this morning when we opened. She was an older woman, maybe mid-fifties, but she had a lot of spunk and didn't tolerate any non-sense from either the kids or the parents. I could feel her pain. Although we had a couple high school kids who worked the weekend shifts, I'd been her evening replacement most weeknights.

"Thank you, Stacy." She handed over the emergency radio, and I dismissed her as I took her place at the front of the line. It was ten minutes to five, so Chris would currently be re-stuffing himself back into the sweltering red suit and making his way here soon.

Bea smiled at me as she fiddled behind the photo display. Heather stepped up next to me, patting my arm in silent commiseration.

"So how's the crowd today?" I whispered to her.

"Rowdy," Heather quipped with a small chuckle. "Good luck."

"Hey, you're in the fray just as much as me."

Heather laughed as she leaned in close to my ear, "Yeah, but I don't have to deal with the assholes. That's your job, my dear elf."

"Aide!" I huffed. She just rolled her eyes as laughed.

I turned and braced myself for the onslaught of children eager to see Santa. Heather and I made sure the first few in line had picked up their flyer for their photo choices, answering questions as quickly as I could.

Santa arrived to a mass of cheers, both from the kids and adults. Chris waved and 'ho, ho, ho'ed his way over. We locked eyes and he grinned at my fake smile. After Chris settled himself in the chair, I started herding tots his way. Automatically, I cheerfully asked each child what they were going to ask Santa for as Heather discussed package options with the supervising adult—grandma, granddad, mom, dad, sometimes an aunt or uncle...

I heard everything from huge doll houses, xboxs, iPads, Star Wars anything, to the latest fashions, to even some as simple as a Barbie. I even had a couple asking for 'peace on earth' after mom prompted them in their ear. It was cute, but I could see the kid didn't really understand what they were asking for. I did find my heart melting when a young boy asked for his dad to come home from 'over the seas'.

Okay, so it wasn't all bad.

The night wore on and the line dwindled as parents headed home with their younger children for early bedtimes. We always got a few teens playing around and having their pictures with Santa. As long as they behaved and didn't try to sit on the poor guy's lap, it was often pretty fun to watch, and Chris enjoyed joking around with them.

I let the group of four teen girls head for Santa before turning to the next in line—the mom with the baby stroller. A younger boy stood just behind her, peeking around her to see Santa, his eyes bright with hope. His mousey brown hair was a bit disheveled, but I figured the mother would fix it before the picture. He still had on his coat, and I found it odd, with the expensive stroller the mom was pushing, to see a couple tears in the fabric of the boy's jacket. Maybe he was really attached to it; kids were like that.

As the teens giggled their way off the exit ramp, the mother straightened up the baby girl's blanket and pink headband. I turned to the boy to ask him what he wanted for Christmas—because, of course, I wasn't asking a baby.

"Hi there," I greeted, bending over to be more on eye level. I guessed he was probably seven years old. "How are—"

"Excuse me," the mother snapped, bringing my attention back up to her. "I believe we are next." She smiled down at the bundle of pink in her arms.

I frowned, glancing back down at the boy. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. I thought he was with you."

"Oh, no. It's just Kara. It's her first Christmas." The mother grinned broadly, barely casting a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes were all for her daughter.

Huh. I took another glimpse at the boy. He'd taken a step back, apparently realizing he'd been crowding the mother. My gaze flicked behind him to the Oriental family talking excitedly together in Chinese as they primped. Okay... So where the hell were his parents?

I quickly ushered Kara and her mother forward to the photo assistant, and Heather took the beaming mother's photo request. I turned back to the small boy excitedly watching Santa. Figuring I had a lost kid on my hands, I reached behind me for the walkie-talkie clipped to the back of my belt, ready to call for help.

This time I squatted down in front of him, taking note of what he was wearing in case we needed to make an announcement: battered blue tennis shoes, baggy brown pants rolled at the hem, a puffy navy coat—with a tear in the sleeve.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked gently. He didn't seem upset like I'd expect a lost child to be.

"Chase," he told me cheerfully. "I'm seven."

"Seven, well, you are getting pretty big there," I admired, and he beamed back at me.

"Are you ready to see Santa?"

"Yes, I need to talk to him."

"And what do you want to ask him for?" I knew I had to keep him from becoming scared, but my eyes continued to dart around looking for an adult who might be missing a kid.

"A bigger car."

I chuckled. "A bigger car? What kind—a monster truck?"

His brown brows furrowed as he tilted his head at me. "No, a bigger car for daddy and me."

This surprised me a little, as most kids didn't ask for a real car. "So, daddy wants a bigger car, huh?" I teased gently.

"No," he frowned deeper, and I could tell I was beginning to irritate the boy. I had no idea why. "I want a bigger car so daddy doesn't have to sleep so scrunched up all the time."

I froze. My blue eyes widened in shock. What. The. Hell. Fuck, my throat felt like it just closed up, and I swear I could hear my heart pounding in my chest.

Homeless. This poor boy was homeless.

I finally managed to clear my throat. "Um, Chase, where is your daddy?"

"He fell asleep. It's warmer in here, so he could rest better. He needs it," Chase stated plainly, sounding so much older than seven years old all of a sudden. "I thought I could run over and talk to Santa before we had to leave."

Okay, stay calm. Lots of dads chill out while their spouses hunt down deals.

"How about your mom?"

"Don't have a mom. Just daddy."

Fuck. I stood up quickly, my eyes darting around the atrium at every bench and seat nearby. I whipped up the walkie-talkie. "Sam, I need security at Santa."

There was a small crackle of radio static. "What, did some moms try to beat each other with the candy canes again?" the head of security's voice chuckled.

"No. Lost child," I responded tersely.

Of course, as I looked down, Chase was staring at me blankly, probably wondering who I was talking about. Fortunately, there were only three more people in line. I moved quickly to rope off the end and put out the closed sign behind the last family. I suspected I was going to be helping Sam with lost kid duty in a few minutes.

Kara and her mom had just finished, so I led Chase to Santa, who climbed eagerly up on the seat.

"Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas," Chris greeted the boy. "And what's your name?"

"Chase Parker."

"And have you been a good boy this year, Chase?"

The mousey brown head nodded quickly. "I've tried to be the bestest I can be."

Santa chuckled. "I'm sure you have."

"Daddy needed me to be," Chase added, his voice dropping softly.

"And where is your daddy?"

"Sleeping."

Chris glanced up at me, noting I had my radio in my hand. I nodded, silently communicating to the man to keep the boy talking.

"I guess he must need some sleep then," Chris tried to keep his voice light.

"He does. He's been so sad since Pa left," Chase blurted, leaving me, Chris, and Bea speechless.

Fuck, fuck, fuck... Where the hell was Sam?

Wait. Pa?

"Um, um, I see," Chris finally stammered.

"But you know about that, don't you?" Chase continued, tilting his head as he frowned. "Daddy said you needed him to help you at the North Pole. That's why he left last year. He'd been sick, and Daddy said went to work with you."

Oh, hell. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Bea gasped behind me from where she was standing at the camera, and I turned to see her eyes shiny with tears. Chris was looking at me helplessly.

I coughed before squatting next to Chase. "Yes, your Pa helps out with the toy department."

Chase's chocolate brown eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Uh, sure," Chris jumped in, continuing the ruse obviously started by the boy's father. "He's a big help. So what do you want us to bring you this year?"

Crap. I couldn't warn Chris about the boy's wish.

"What's taking so long?" I heard the clipped voice of the father next in line. "The kid's not even getting pictures."

I gestured to the assistant photographer to help out, and Heather hurried over to explain to the waiting families what was going on.

"I want a bigger car for daddy, you know, one where the back lays down, so daddy can stretch out."

"Stretch out?" I could hear the confusion in Chris's voice.

"Yeah, right now, he sleeps sitting up in the front seat, 'cause he makes me take the back seat," Chase explained simply.

Chris looked up at me, his eyes bright with worry. "Aww, Dean, come on."

Yeah, I got it. His heart was breaking at the boy's story just like mine.

I jerked my head, indicating I'd take the kid off his hands, and 'Santa' patted Chase's back. "Why don't you go on with my elf, and he'll get you a candy cane?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm your 'aide', Santa. Your elves are at the north pole, remember?"

Chris just laughed at my indignant look as Chase watched us curiously.

Fortunately, Sam arrived, and I shuffled Chase over to the exit ramp after Chris handed him a candy cane. I looked back to the photographer and her assistant; Bea and Heather both nodded at me with a shooing motion, indicating they would take care of the last families without my help.

I couldn't be more thankful for their understanding and assistance because right now, I didn't think I could let this boy go. I suddenly wanted to wrap him up in my arms and shield him from everything bad in the world.

"So, what's up here?" Sam smiled widely, making sure to keep Chase at ease. His voice had a teasing, lighthearted quality. "Did your mom or dad get lost?"

Chase frowned as I quickly shook my head behind him. I snatched the annoying hat off my head as it jingled. Sam glanced at me in confusion.

"No, my daddy isn't lost. He's just—"

"Chase!"

My head whipped around to see a frantic blond running towards us. The man's gaunt face was etched with panic, tears leaking into the scruff on his chin. His worn overcoat flapped behind him as he raced toward his son.

"Daddy!" Chase's face lit up as he flew into the man's arms.

"Oh, my God. Thank you, God, thank you," the man's rough voice broke as he clutched the boy tight to his chest, his hand stroking over the boy's head.

Sam and I exchanged glances, and I nodded a dismissal to the guard. "Thanks for coming, Sam."

"I'll just wait around. In case you need me," Sam offered.

I took in the man planting kisses on Chase's head. He was actually not too much older than I was, maybe in his late twenties. I'd expected older based on Chase's age, but the man and his partner—I was guessing based on the Pa reference—had probably adopted Chase as a toddler not a baby.

"You scared me so much, Chase. You can't do that to me. You're all I have left, kiddo," the blond sobbed into the boy's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, daddy," Chase said quietly, clinging to his father's neck. "I wanted to talk to Santa."

"I told you I'd take you. Why didn't you ask me?"

"You were sleeping, and you don't get to sleep much anymore with Pa gone," the child whispered softly.

I couldn't help the twinge in my heart at the boy's confession. The father tightened his grip as he squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face further in the child's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Chase. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. I guess you're right. I haven't slept quite as well since... since your Pa left."

Damn it. I swiped at my eyes as I blinked rapidly. I couldn't help still hovering. I wanted to talk to the man, but it didn't feel right intruding on their moment.

"It's okay," Chase chirped up, pulling his head back to look his father in the eyes. "I asked Santa for a new car, one we could lay down the back seat so we can sleep better. Maybe you can talk to Santa too, and he can talk to Pa for you."

The poor man's eyes widened in shock as he glanced up at Santa talking to the last family. Those bright blue eyes darted around, obviously wondering who knew of his predicament. His gaze landed on me.

"Hi." I finally stepped forward, extending my hand. "I'm Dean Patterson."

The man slowly released his son, letting him slide down until his feet hit the floor. Closer now, I noticed the dark circles under the man's bright eyes as well as the flush of embarrassment to his pale skin. He hurriedly brushed his arm across his eyes before extending his hand to me hesitantly.

"Um, hi. Anthony Parker." I was mesmerized by the melodic lilt to his voice. "I guess you heard what..."

I nodded understandingly, hoping this gentle looking man didn't break under the strain he was so obviously under. I could tell he was barely holding himself together. I noticed his hands clutched tightly to Chase's shoulders as the boy squirmed under his hold. I suspected he wouldn't be letting go of the boy for quite some time.

"Things happen," I said quietly, letting him hold onto his dignity by not having to explain his situation to me. At least not yet. Because right now, I wanted nothing more than to comfort this broken man.

He nodded his thanks silently. "I, um, hope Chase wasn't too much trouble," Anthony began.

"No, not at all." I smiled reassuringly. "He was very polite."

"See, daddy?" Chase piped up as he tilted his head back to see his father's face.

"Yes, I see, but you still know better than to run off," his father admonished. "You had me worried."

The boy looked shamefully at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"I know, kiddo, I just—" I heard Anthony's voice break. I could just imagine what was running through the man's head. He'd apparently lost his partner last year, about this time it appeared, to some illness, and to doze off, only to wake and find his son missing had to have been terrifying.

"How 'bout some coffee? My treat." I intervened, finding I wanted to offer this man and his son, this family, some comfort. "And of course, a hot chocolate for Chase here."

Anthony was already starting to shake his head when his son's eyes widened and blurted, "With marshmallows?"

"Of course," I said, like it was obvious.

"I don't—" the blond shook his head, long strands falling in his eyes.

I boldly took another step forward. "Let me. I'd love some company. It's been a long day."

I watched as those soft blue eyes searched my face for pity or deceit. I hope all he found was comfort.

Finally, he nodded. "Sure. Thanks, um, Mr. Patterson."

"Please, it's Dean," I corrected as we turned toward the Starbucks tucked in the corner of the atrium. I flicked my eyes at Sam, still hovering by Santa's mountain, a wordless assurance everything was fine. He offered me a nod and an encouraging grin. Hell, was my love life public knowledge for everyone?

"You can call me Tony," Chase's father offered as we entered the line.

"Tony," I repeated, trying the name out on my tongue. I smiled. I liked the way it sounded.

We stood in line, and I noticed Tony ordered the smallest cup of black coffee possible. He refused to order anything else—even though I was sure he was hungry. I got Chase a hot chocolate and a large blueberry muffin. I picked out a scone and small caramel macchiato.

"I haven't had a scone before," I said as I ordered. "Guess I'll see what it's like."

After collecting our drinks, we sat down at a tiny table. It was getting close to closing time, so the crowds had thinned considerably. I figured the longer I kept him here, the longer he and the boy would stay warm. The thought of them sleeping in their small car somewhere sent shivers down my spine.

Chase fidgeted until his father settled him on his lap. "Be careful, Chase."

"I will," the boy muttered around a mouthful of muffin.

"Thank you," Tony told me again. It was obvious he hadn't had a lot of kindness lately with as often as he had thanked me in line already.

"No problem," I said, breaking off a small piece of scone. "I've been dying for my Starbucks all day."

As I nibbled the small bite of pastry, I watched Tony smooth his hand over his son's head absently. It was like he was reassuring himself the boy was really there. I could still see the hint of fear in those haunted eyes.

"Oh, this has raisins in it," I blurted out, as if I'd suddenly noticed them in the scone. "Damn. I hate raisins," I muttered, trying my best to look put out before glancing up at Tony hopefully. "Do you want it?"

Tony stared at me skeptically. Okay, so I wasn't the best of actors, and he could probably see right through my ploy to get him to eat something.

"If you don't take it, it'll just be thrown away," I added.

A small smile tipped the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

There was a somewhat awkward silence as the pair ate their sweetbread, and I sipped on my coffee. I took the time to study them even more. The way Anthony looked at his son left my heart aching, wishing someone would look at me like that.

Tony glanced down at Chase, obviously gauging how much he was paying attention. The boy was leaning heavily against his father's chest now that he had downed his muffin. He was starting to look sleepy.

"It's been a hard year," Tony said softly, and I sensed he felt the need to justify things to me.

"You don't have to explain anything to me..."

Tony accepted my overture with a nod. "I know. I just... I just don't want you to think I'm... that I'm a bad father—"

"I don't think that at all," I interrupted. Anyone could see how much the boy meant to him and how much Chase loved his father—and had loved his Pa.

His hand tapped nervously on the small table next to his coffee cup, his faraway look made me wonder if he'd even heard me. "I lost my partner, Evan, last year about this time," he continued slowly, maintaining control of his voice, his emotions. "He..." Tony glanced down at Chase. "He had cancer."

I could only nod.

"'s why he went to work with Santa," Chase mumbled sleepily, rubbing his face against his father's coat.

"Yes, that's right, kiddo," Tony assured before his eyes popped back up to me, almost pleadingly. "Chase was sick too at the time Evan... left. He had pneumonia. I—I practically lived at the hospital last November." He quickly blinked away the glint in his eyes as he relived those last moments with the man he loved, obviously torn between being at his partner's side and his son's.

"Anyway, I lost my job. Too much time away. My boss was sorry, but he needed the work done. I understood. I just couldn't... I couldn't leave them."

It was heartbreaking to see the torment in this man's face.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to lay this all on you—"

"No, no, please, it's okay," I assured, leaning forward and cautiously covering his shaking hand. I hoped it came across as comforting since I could tell he needed someone to talk to, someone to listen to him, instead of judging him.

I could practically feel the tension slip from his body as he took a fortifying breath. "Thank you. Sometimes, I just—"

"Hey, how about we head over to the Denny's? The mall's getting ready to close soon, and we can spend some more time talking."

Tony glanced around, obviously not having noticed how late it had gotten. I suspected he was used to staying inside some mall, library, or other public building as late as he could, to keep his son warm. It wouldn't surprise me to find the back seat of his car piled with blankets that he'd layer on Chase, probably using none for himself.

"Oh, yeah, I guess we need to get going." He started to stand, jostling Chase in his hold. "Thanks so much for watching out for Chase. And for the coffee. And scone."

I rose with him, but I wasn't about to let him escape. "I wasn't trying to say goodbye. I really want to keep talking with you."

The man's honey brows furrowed. "Why? You don't even know me."

I shrugged. "Not yet. But I'd like to."

He blinked as if he hadn't heard me correctly, and I could tell he was determining my sincerity. "You're serious."

"Yes, I am," I said boldly. "I'm not planning on letting you and your son freeze in your car. Not tonight at least."

"I appreciate that, but there's a... shelter we can try. If they have room, we'll stay there."

"If they have room. Listen, Tony, I know you don't know me any more than I know you, but I think you could use a friend, and I have a spare bedroom you and Chase can use." I rushed the offer out before I lost my nerve.

Tony bit his lip, considering my suggestion. The boy snuggled in his arms helped to sway his decision in my favor as his father obviously weighed the idea of letting his son spend the night in the cold car again.

He finally nodded his assent silently. "Thank you," he choked out, letting small, hopeful smile escape. "You really must be one of Santa's elves."

I huffed out a chuckle, ready to correct him, before Chase's brown eyes peeked back at me from under his thick sleep-heavy lids. I melted under the boy's gaze.

Oh, hell, who was I kidding? "Yep. Dean, the elf, that's me."