Santa's Pet Read Online Free Page A

march away from the throne.
    A collective gasp follows me as the parents mutter to reassure their children Santa’s real and very, very nice.
    ~ Ben ~
    Why’d I lie and tell her I never gave her a thought?
    The truth was, Ben had never forgotten that smart little blonde who never joined in any of the games he and his brothers played. She was always on the sidelines with her nose in a book, but every so often, she’d catch his eye, and then shyly go back to her books. She was the good girl while her sister got into trouble. She wore jeans and sweats and hid behind her long, corn silk hair. Never in a million years would Ben have imagined Brittney dressed like a Santa’s elf stripper. But then, a lot could happen to a sweet little slip of a girl like Brittney Reed—puberty for one, and the wrong type of attention from douchebags.
    He shouldn’t have made that remark, but truthfully, he thought she was flirting with him and wanted that kind of attention. How was he to know she’d take it as an insult and huff off in a tiff? He looked for Brittney, but she was on the other side of the barn, showing a floppy eared dog to a shy little boy.
    Meanwhile, as substitute Santa, Ben should be focused on the little girl in his lap. She rattled on and on with factoids about cockatoos and all the reasons why she wanted one, but he could do no more than nod and hum. He had absolutely no idea what she expected him to do with the big white bird she was holding.
    He was definitely flunking Santa 101. Served him right for misleading Brittney and then gawking at her big doozies. He ought to slap himself. What he did was degrading, and that comment was even douchier. And here he thought of himself as a nice guy.
    “Lookie, look,” the girl, who appeared to be seven or eight, shrilled in his ear. “He knows how to say ‘Hello.’”
    “Hello, hello,” the cockatoo insisted, bobbing its fluffy white crest. Its eyes dilated and shrunk like a cartoon heartbeat. “Hellooo!!!”
    “You better say ‘hello’ back,” the girl said. “Or he’ll get mad.”
    “Are you sure you want an angry bird?” Ben asked, in all seriousness.
    The bird eyed him and chuckled.
    “Oh, he’s laughing at you. He thinks you’re funny. Stick out your finger and say ‘Step up.’” The girl passed the bird toward him.
    Instead of stepping up, the bird, who had a large and hard nut-cracking beak, leaned forward and touched the tip of its beak on Ben’s finger.
    “Don’t worry,” the girl reassured. “He’s using his beak as a third foot. Trying to get a hold before stepping up. Say it.”
    “It?” Ben joked with the kid, who put on a cute little pout. “Fine, step up.”
    Instead of moving, the bird opened its mouth and gently grabbed onto Ben’s index finger. Ben held his breath. Was it going to bite? Should he move his finger? But then, everyone would think he was a wuss. Imagine that. Santa, afraid of a mere bird.
    The cockatoo eyed him, its eyes like creepy, sinister targets dilated as it applied slightly more pressure on Ben’s finger.
    Ben held still. He wasn’t going to react and give the bird any satisfaction. He was used to pain, could tolerate a heck of a lot of it, on and off the football field.
    “Heh, heh, heh,” the cockatoo chuckled, its evil eye directly staring at Ben. The hard black beak bit down slowly, increasing the pressure.
    Ow. This was starting to hurt, even through his grandpa’s Santa gloves. The bird’s beak was serrated. Ben held still and ignored the bird, looking away.
    “Heh, heh, heayeah.” The large bird’s chuckle took on a maniacal twist right before it chomped down. Hard.
    “Yeoww!” Ben jerked his finger and stood so quickly, both girl and bird toppled from his lap.
    “Waaahhh!” the girl yelped as she landed on her behind. Her pretty Christmas dress flipped up, but fortunately she was wearing candy-cane tights.
    The bird squawked loudly and took off in a fright. Its large wings slapped Ben’s