Holly grabbed her hand. “You’ll see,” she said in a singsong voice.
Her friend had that twinkle in her light hazel eyes that made Joy nervous. She was up to something. Normally Joy would be happy to go along with whatever Holly had up her sleeve, but not tonight, not when humiliation still churned in her stomach.
Joy was pushed forward toward a man dressed as Santa sitting in a chair next to a Christmas tree. He wasn’t a large jolly older Santa like she expected. There was no fake beard. This Santa’s dark brown whiskers were real and accented his full lips. Instead of the usual costume, he wore a trim, fitted red suit with a candy cane-striped tie that showed off a toned body. In a nod to tradition, a classic Santa hat sat perched at an angle on his head, covering long sable hair that curled at his shoulders.
“It’s your turn to tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”
Joy’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you of all people want me to do this. You don’t even like Christmas.”
Holly blushed. “Maybe not so much anymore.”
Her comment gave Joy one thing to be happy about. It was easy to push aside her own misery for a moment and celebrate her friends happiness. Holly had reconnected with Nick Anderson, a guy she had gone to high school with. They met again last year when Nick was traded to the Seattle Emeralds, the city’s MLS team. He’d come to the hospital with his teammate Hugh Donavan when he ran into Holly. They’d been inseparable ever since. She was pleased for her friend, she really was, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel a sting of jealousy. She wanted a relationship with someone who looked at her the way Nick looked at Holly.
Joy frowned. “That might be fine for you, but I’m still a skeptic about the magic of the holidays.”
Joy, Holly, and their co-worker Noelle formed an unofficial club. Membership included being named after the holiday they all disliked for various reasons. Joy didn’t mind Christmas so much, but growing up much of her time was spent practicing for, and competing in, holiday pageants rather than actually celebrating Christmas. She associated the holiday with competition more than anything else.
Holly tugged her hand, pulling her closer to the man in a red suit. “Well, maybe you’ll lose a little of that skepticism once you tell Santa what you want.”
“Holly, I don’t want to—”
She didn’t have a chance to finish before she was pushed—more like shoved—toward Santa. She stumbled forward, almost tripping on her heels until she teetered in front of him.
“Ho ho ho, what would you like for Christmas, little girl?” Santa said in a big booming voice with a wink.
Joy looked into the dark blue eyes of the man in the red suit smiling at her, and her filter broke. She plopped down on his knee, ignoring the quiet “Oof” that came from Santa at the forcefulness of her movement, and crossed her arms.
Her mind and her mouth weren’t in sync, and before she could carefully measure her words, she blurted out. “You want to know what I want? I want to know how to tell if a guy likes me. Seriously, is there some kind of handbook I don’t know about?” Along with her filter, Joy also forgot to use her indoor voice. “I mean, what’s wrong with me? Why am I the girl who always gets dumped?” She tugged on her long hair. “You know what else I want? I want to have the courage to cut it all off. And look at me,” she exclaimed, gesturing up and down her outfit. “I look ridiculous. I’m always overdressed, and who am I trying to impress anyway?” She reached up and ripped off her false eyelashes and thrust them toward Santa. They looked like two caterpillars in her palm. “What’s the point of wearing these when I can’t even get a second date?” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “And I want my dad to finally accept the fact that I’m never going to be Miss America.” She noticed the laugh lines at the corner of Santa’s eyes and the way his lips twitched.
“Are you laughing at me?” she shrieked, jumping off his lap, wobbling for a moment on her ridiculously high heels.
Yup, this definitely would have gotten her disqualified from a pageant.
Santa stood up and put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “I’m not laughing.”
He may have apologized, but his eyes still twinkled with amusement. Those sexy blue eyes were laughing at her. The thought took her frustration with herself up another notch.
Joy stomped her foot as her voice rose to a volume that made the rest of the party goers stop in their tracks. “No, you’re not, you never are. You take women on dates and make them think you like them, and then you marry the girl you went to medical school with.”
Someone in the group that had formed around them gasped, and Joy saw a doctor she’d gone on a couple of dates with six months ago lead his fiancée out of the room, saying in a loud whisper, “I wasn’t dating her, I swear.”
Meanwhile, Santa still looked amused. He held his palms up. “I wouldn’t do that, I promise. I’m pretty sure it’s against the North Pole dating code.”
“It’s not funny!”
Good Lord, who was that woman screeching like a strangled cat? Oh my God, it’s me, Joy realized. As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, she took a deep breath and then burst into tears. The next thing she knew, Santa had her wrapped in his arms, cupping the back of her head with his hand.
“I’m sorry. If I could, I would give you everything you wished for. I’d do anything to make those tears go away and see you smile,” he whispered in her ear.
Santa had broad shoulders and smelled woodsy with a hint of citrus. There was a faint hint of whiskey on his warm breath against her ear. She leaned into his arms, which felt so good and comforting around her.
“It’s okay, Jason. We’ll take care of her,” Holly said, gently prying her out of Santa’s arms.
Holly and her other friend, Noelle, pushed her gently out of the party and into the women’s restroom.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I did that. I am so embarrassed,” Joy sobbed.
Holly rubbed her back. “That was a pretty epic rant. Do you want to talk about what brought that on?”
“I thought I had a date for the party.”
“Dr. Adkins?” Noelle asked.
“I was so excited. I haven’t had a date in months. Dr. Adkins could have been the one. I thought”—Joy sniffed—“maybe I’d have a boyfriend before the new year.”
Holly and Noelle exchanged a worried look.
“Joy, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but why are you always trying to find a boyfriend?” Holly asked.
“Because everyone else seems to find someone special and I always get dumped. I… maybe I’ve watched too many holiday romances, but I want to be the girl that gets the guy.” She sighed. “Saying it out loud, I realize that sounds pathetic.”
“Joy, I’m saying this because you’re my friend and I care about you. You aren’t going to find someone special until you find yourself,” Noelle said, handing her a wad of toilet paper. “Now blow your nose.”
Holly tore off a piece of paper towel, dampened it, and began to wipe away the smudged eyeliner from under Joy’s eyes. “How about this,” Holly said while she worked. “Instead of wishing for all those things you asked Santa for, make it happen for yourself. Cut your hair if that’s what you want to do. Noelle and I will go shopping with you for new clothes. Take some time to make yourself happy before you try to make an impression on anyone else.”
Joy nodded and blew again. She turned and scrunched her nose when she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were out of portion without her false eyelashes and mascara only on the bottom ones. The blush was long gone from her cheeks, and her nose was red and swollen.
“I’m a mess,” she declared.
Looking at herself, she realized Noelle was right. She needed to look in the mirror and like what she saw, both inside and out.
“I should apologize to the guy playing Santa, and to everybody who had to witness my meltdown.” She dropped her chin to her chest. “I—I don’t know what came over me… I… lost it.”
Noelle patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about Jason. There’s no need to apologize. Everyone has a bad day now and then.”
Joy jerked her head up. “Wait. Jason…” Her heart thundered in her ears as a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over her. “As in Jason Anderson, your boyfriend’s brother?”
“You didn’t recognize him?”
Joy dropped her head in her hands and let out a muffled “No.”
“It’s okay. Jason is a good guy. He’ll understand,” Noelle said.
The sexy Santa was none other than country star Jason Anderson, the man whose image graced a larger-than-life billboard in Times Square when his latest album came out. Sure enough, she heard the strum of a guitar and a deep voice sing, “Merry Christmas Baby” with a hint of a sexy twang.
“Noelle’s right, Jason will understand.”
“Understand what, that I completely lost my shit?” Joy groaned. “He’s going to think I’m like one of those crazy fans.”
Holly gently grasped Joy’s shoulders. “No, he’s not.”
Joy buried her face in her hands again. “Oh God, this is officially the worst Christmas ever.”
If hitting rock bottom was having a meltdown in front of Jason Anderson and then sneaking out of the Alehouse through the back door in the kitchen, then Joy was there.