25. Willa
25
willa
Twenty minutes later, the parade rolls down Main Street. A marching band from the high school, floats from shops in town (I assume), a dance team decked out in elf costumes, and a full-on rendition of A Christmas Carol —complete with costumes and a set—round out my favorites.
I didn’t ask Beckett or Heidi how long it lasted, but I figure it must be almost done. How much more can they fit into a Christmas Eve parade?
Beckett wasn’t wrong about the crowd of people congregating here. Mostly families with kids, their grandparents, and a few groups of teenagers. Not once did the teenagers get rowdy, and the only time they were on their phones was to take pictures. I’m so used to zombie-like ones hanging around the coffee shop, it was refreshing to see them so excited about a parade. Some of their infectious joy leaked to me, and I’m not sad about it.
My therapist will have a field day when I see her in January. I can’t wait to tell her.
“Ah, here comes Beck,” Heidi calls out, enthusiasm dripping with it.
I take a step in front of the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of him and what kind of float he’s driving. All I can see is an old red Chevy truck, like vintage old. From the sixties, maybe. I thought he said he’d be driving it, but upon closer look, he’s not the driver. Another guy his age sits behind the wheel, and Dax is in the passenger seat. I’m so confused.
“I don’t see him,” I grumble, mostly to myself, but Lenny overhears it.
His smirk is sinister as he points to the back of the truck.
The only person in the back of the truck is . . . wait for it . . . Santa!
It takes several moments for what I’m seeing to sink in.
“Wait, what? That’s Beckett?” I blink, attempting to clear my vision. Between my contacts and the cold weather, my eyes are bothering me more than usual. I stare at the man currently waving to the crowd, sporting a huge smile.
The white beard affixed to his face.
The overstuffed red coat with a black buckle holding it in place.
The jolly expression.
It’s Santa, alright. Beckett as Santa.
Why am I so astounded he’s dressed as Santa? The clues were all there this week. AJ Hart would sass me so hard right now that I didn’t see this coming.
All I can do is laugh.
A hearty laugh, one sounding a lot like Santa’s, pulled deep from the pit of my stomach. It’s been so long since I’ve laughed like this. I can’t remember the last time.
Joy radiates through me, the excitement making me giddy. It invigorates me, eclipsing every doubt I had that I’d ruin this for other people.
I’m glad he didn’t tell me, and I’m also delighted I decided it was important to come. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.
“Of course he’s Santa,” I state aloud, still reeling with laughter.
When I seek Beckett out again, his back is to me, waving to the crowd on the opposite side of the street. He hasn’t noticed me yet, but when he shifts toward the driveway, ecstasy pours off him in ripples. His smile widens, his eyes sparkle. That’s the only way I can describe how bright they are. Our gazes lock, and my smile grows.
A week ago, the thought of being near Santa would have crippled me, sending me running for the hills. Instead, here I am, wishing I could jump into the back of the truck with him.
Sure, it’s not “Santa” I’m interested in so much as Beckett. A guy who’s turned my life topsy-turvy in a matter of days, including making me a believer again. I don’t know when it happened, but he worked his charms, and here I am.
His arm swings wildly yet controlled. “Ho, ho, ho,” he croons. “Merry Christmas.” My arm raises to return his wave, my excitement not contained. He bangs on the top of the cab, calling out, “Hold up a minute.” Slowly, the truck rolls to a stop, and Beckett jumps from the bed, strolling my way, not forgetting the part he’s playing. His hands splay his round stomach, and he saunters more than strolls, his focus not leaving me.
My stomach leaps, wondering what he’s up to, why he’s stopped the parade to find me.
About two feet in front of me, he halts, his eyes never leaving mine. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” I shake my head. “Santa!”
A tinge of red stains his cheeks. Not like the “rosy cheeks” in the song, but from self-consciousness. “Glad you made it. Worried for a second you’d miss all this.” He reaches an arm out, motioning to the surrounding crowd.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” The truth gushes out, the words genuine and frank. The only reason I’m here is because of Beckett. I owe it all to him. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to show my complete gratitude for how much he’s helped me this week.
“I have something for you. Hold on.” He breaks our trance, returning to the truck, reaching into the window of the cab, not once breaking character. He doesn’t ignore the cheers of “Santa” on his way back, giving his fans a wave. When he reaches me, his hands are behind his back, but his smirk tells me he’s up to something.
“Whatcha got there, Santa?”
“Close your eyes, Willa.” His demand is gentle, softer than his usual tone. I don’t bother fighting it, fluttering my eyes shut. He removes the wool hat I’m wearing, replacing it with a different one. “Okay, open.”
My eyes open, and I’m met with his phone’s camera in selfie mode. A Santa hat has taken the place of the winter one, but I can’t get a word out before he pulls me flush against him, instructing me to smile when I’m where he wants me. The screen reflects our bliss, and I only hope the picture accurately illustrates it.
“Do you trust me?”
“Wholeheartedly.”
A devilish gleam in his eyes, he wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me to the other side of the hedges. I don’t have to wonder for long what he’s up to when his arms clasp around my waist and lean me backward. A flurry of butterflies kicks up with the comprehension of what he’s doing.
“Beckett,” I squeal, as he crashes his lips to mine, my protest dying.
During the Hallmark movie the other night, we talked about how the hero sweeps the heroine off her feet—metaphorically—and dips her back for the grand finale of kisses.
And what a finale it is.
Fireworks explode in front of my eyes.
Tingles erupt, coursing through my body at warp speed.
My cheeks flush not only from the cold, but the heat exchanged between the two of us.
All too quickly, it’s over.
Beckett rights me, making sure I’m not swaying, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders .
“Such a dirty Santa,” I coo, my lips zinging with feeling.
Beckett chuckles, leaning in close. “If you’re not too sore, maybe later I put the suit back on and you can help me take it off? I’ll show you how dirty I can be.”
His comment lands between my thighs, the parts of me still super achy from our fun yesterday. But damn if I don’t want more, no matter how sore I’ll be for the next couple of days.
“Yes, please.”
His smile so broad, his dimple pops, and he leaves a kiss on my head. I will myself to stay upright and not embarrass myself by falling over as I swoon.
“I have a few things to get back to once the parade wraps up. Stay here and wait for me?”
“Where else would I go?”
He boops my nose. “Right answer, Bundy. Be back soon. Go warm up inside with Heidi.” His lips sweep over mine, and then he’s gone. A little more hastily this time, the role pushed aside as I catch the back side of him climbing into the truck to finish the parade. “Nothing to see here, folks. I must be getting back to rest up for my long night ahead of me. Merry Christmas Eve,” Beckett shouts to the crowd. He taps the cab again, and the truck moves on past the B and B, the crowd clapping and cheering his departure.
The parade ends with a bang, and I’m still recovering from the hidden kiss.
“Wowza. That was hot. Much as I don’t like to think of my brother like that, the way he looked at you . . .” Heidi fans herself, mouthing, “Hawt.”
“Did he really just do that?”
“Believe it, Willa. He did,” she confirms, tugging on the white pompom. “Shall we go inside? We’ve got hot cocoa.”
“The kind Beckett makes?” I can’t help but ask.
She winks. “Better.”
What a day this is turning out to be. Elias would be so proud I didn’t let my fear win.