Chapter 2

What’s your problem?” Willow asked.

Greg was pacing in the little makeshift dressing room situated behind the Santa’s throne area. He’d been out of the chair almost before Ethan’s little girls hopped off his lap, making his way to the sales table. He’d roughly grabbed her arm, gripping it so tightly she thought it might bruise, and dragged her away from Ethan. The poor, sexy man stood there, looking dumbfounded.

“My problem is, I’ve had enough of your flirting,” Greg said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was apparently afraid his voice would carry out of the dressing room and didn’t want the kids and parents waiting in line to hear. “It’s humiliating. Embarrassing.”

“It’s harmless,” Willow said, as she had dozens of times before. “It’s not like I’m fucking them or anything.”

“Even though I’m sure you’d love to!” Greg snapped, louder than Willow was sure he intended.

Willow shrugged. “Not sure why you’d care,” she said. “Not like you’ve been interested lately.”

And it was true. Despite Willow looking better than she had at any point during their marriage, and despite her sex drive being in high gear all day, every day, Greg never seemed to want her. She'd been the one to initiate the few times they’d had sex during the last year, and when he’d agreed, he always seemed reluctant. Like it was too much trouble, even though he always ended up enjoying himself by the time it was done.

Willow had gotten to the point where she thought it was too much trouble, too, so when she felt the urge (which, again, was quite often these days), she got herself off using her impressive array of sex toys and a vivid imagination.

Greg sighed. “You know I’m tired by the time I get done working.” “Right,” Willow said. “Well, I’m pretty tired of things, too, Greg.” “Do you even know who that was?” Greg asked.

“Who?”

“The muscle-bound oaf you were just batting your goddamn eyelashes at!” he yelled.

“No. Not a clue.”

“It’s Ethan Lane. I was friends with him in college.”

“Oh, shit,” Willow said. “The guy who broke up your first marriage?” Greg nodded.

“Was that Beth with him?”

“It was,” Greg said, his voice choking up.

Part of Willow wanted to apologize, but he had that look in his eyes, the

one he always had when talking about his first wife. The one that made Willow feel like she was nothing but a consolation prize he’d won after losing the one he really wanted.

“Well, they’re divorced now,” Willow said, barely containing the fury in her voice. “Maybe you can have a second chance.”

He sighed. “I’ve got to get back to it,” he said. “But I don’t want you working here anymore. At least not in front of customers, and especially not wearing that outfit.”

“You’re seriously firing me?” Willow asked. “I don’t even technically work for your company, you know. I’m just helping you out.”

“Then I’m not firing you,” Greg said, walking past her to return to his throne. “I’m just telling you to stop ‘helping me out’ and go the fuck home.”

Willow stood there for a few minutes, fuming. She had half a mind to return to the sales table and flirt with every man waiting on their kids. Married, single, whatever, it wouldn’t matter. It might even be more fun if they were with a wife or girlfriend. She wondered what kind of hit Greg’s company would take to its sales or reputation if she turned into Little Miss Homewrecker.

Instead, she decided to do as Greg said and go home. She’d draw up a bath, get her best waterproof sex toy, and come over and over again while thinking of big, beautiful Ethan stealing another one of Greg’s wives.

On her way to the exit closest to where she’d parked her car, Willow passed by the mall’s community room. Typically used to host meetings for mall businesses and other organizations, the windows looking into it were covered on the inside with some kind of black paper. That was pretty odd, as was the large banner now displayed above the double doors leading into the room.

In large letters, the banner read, “The Dad Zone.” Underneath the title that sent shivers up and down Willow’s spine, the banner said, “Giving bored men something to do while their wives shop.”

Willow raised her eyebrows, thinking there were lots of things she could think of to give bored men--dads or otherwise--something to do.

One of Town Centre’s security guards, a pudgy guy named Jeff, stood next to the community room’s doors. He looked her up and down when she approached. She’d known Jeff for a couple of years now, and if he thought the lecherous way he usually looked at her was a secret, he was sorely mistaken. She’d never quite decided if she was flattered or offended by it, but she knew her skimpy elf costume probably made his day.

“Hey, Willow,” Jeff said. “Are you here to work?”

“Work?” Willow replied.

Jeff nodded. “This event is for men only unless you’re one of the

workers. No other women and absolutely no children.”

“Sure,” Willow said, “I’m a worker.”

“You sure Santa Claus doesn’t need you?” Jeff asked, smiling. “Nah,” Willow said. “He made that pretty clear a few minutes ago.” “I’m not sure your husband would want you, uh, working this event,”

Jeff said, his face getting red.

“Why not?” Willow asked, quickly adding, “You know what? I don’t

care. After what he just pulled, I don’t really care what Greg wants or doesn’t want.”

“Trouble in paradise, eh?” Jeff said, again letting his eyes travel along the entire length of her body in a way that creeped her out a little. “Go on in, then. I might see you inside in a little bit when my relief gets here.”

Willow went inside. The room’s overhead lights were dimmed, and classic rock played from a speaker somewhere. No Mariah Carey shit in here, Willow thought as she looked around. A couple of men sat on a couch at the far end of the room, watching a football game on a large television. Another couple of guys were in two recliners, playing Call of Duty on another TV. One of High Concept’s goth girl cashiers sat between the two recliners, pretending to give a shit about the game and its players.

A white plastic table was set up on one side of the room with liquor bottles and beer. A tall, blonde woman wearing the uniform of Backwoods Burgers & Barrels, a combination fast-casual restaurant and gun store at the mall, delivered two beers to the guys watching the game.

In the center of the room was a large box wrapped in silver gift wrap with a big red bow on top.

The Backwoods girl noticed Willow standing there and walked over to her. “I’m Daisy Lynn, and you’re late,” she said.

“Late for what?”

“I guess you’re not the entertainment,” Daisy Lynn said. “I didn’t think you were one of the Town Centre Tramps.”

Town Centre Tramps? Willow thought. “I could be the entertainment, I guess,” she said. “Depending on what exactly you mean.”

Daisy Lynn rolled her eyes. “What do you think I mean? Just get in the box. These guys have been waiting for a while.”