“I’m really into the pizza flavors we’ve been working with this round, but the pineapple…I feel terrible for saying this…but I’m not sure it goes in macaroni-and-cheese.” I winced as boos and laughter went around the room.

I loved the members and I loved all the interesting ideas that popped up, but voting was the hardest part of advising the most delicious club on campus. “I’m going to have to vote no.”

Ugh.

How had I gotten roped into judging again?

Every semester I said I wasn’t going to do it because it was too stressful, and every semester I somehow ended up doing it again.

College students were pains in the butt sometimes.

This could not be my fault.

Somehow I just needed to channel some Daddy energy next time and not the little energy I had to be radiating.

“I’m sure we can find someone who owns a flamethrower. Hell, Amazon delivers just about anything.”

God, one day the thin walls in these apartments were going to be the death of me. Looking up at the ceiling, I tried not to imagine what the idiots upstairs would do with a flamethrower.

They couldn’t even run a toaster without setting off the fire alarm in the building.

What the fuck were they doing?

“What about moving? That’s an option. You said you wanted more closet space.” The earnest panic in the slightly deeper voice had me realizing I could hear them entirely too well.

Fuck. I’d left the window open. It was stupid considering how badly the sound carried, but it wasn’t my fault. It was not supposed to be this warm in December.

“Where’s a Daddy when you need one?”

Panic or laugh?

That was the question running through my head like a rabid Pomeranian as I looked down at the present in my hand.

Weren’t Secret Santas supposed to be funny?

This was work, not family.

That was supposed to mean presents were silly and cute and low stress. That last one was key because the only reason management had even agreed to let us continue the tradition was because we’d promised not to take it too seriously or to get in a competition this year.

Last year had been…stressful.

So far everyone had obeyed the rules…well, everyone but my Santa.

Looking down into the decorated bag piled with tissue paper, I thought it should’ve just been filled with candy or something silly…nope. My Secret Santa had gotten me a big baby bottle filled with Hershey’s Kisses and a new binkie.

A fucking binkie.