Chapter 2
I’m defying science. My current mood is contradicting every atom in my physiological makeup. Look at me. I’m being outgoing, and I’m not hyperventilating or breaking out in hives.
Once when I had to address the entire high school student body, my skin was so blotchy with welts that mass panic ensued.
The general consensus was that I had an allergic reaction to one of the spices in the mushy meatloaf and was dying.
I just let the paramedics haul me off in the ambulance.
It was easier to say I was hypersensitive to suspicious cafeteria food than admit I’m allergic to people.
So I’m baffled about how eager—and comfortable—I am to wait for Leo.
I don’t count the initial moments of our encounter as a sign I’m finally shedding my introverted shell.
Because then, I was fueled by an adrenaline rush.
It’s that epinephrine spike that empowers people to do crazy, amazing things—like pull cars out of ditches, walk across fiery coals, or, in my case, form full sentences that prove I’ve actually got a brain in my skull.
Now that things have settled, it’s usually my cue to scramble for an exit, but instead, I’m lingering next to the turtledoves, watching Leo’s form stride toward me.
He adjusts his beanie and jerks his head toward the fountain. “Josie said she wants to claim that spot by the water every year from now on.”
“You saved my sanity.” I give a slow clap of appreciation. “Such chivalry deserves a hot chocolate. My treat.”
He tosses a glance at the concession stand. “Are those good?”
In the name of all things Christmas, is this man being serious? I open my mouth. Close it. But then the question flies from my lips. “You’ve never had hot chocolate before?”
He chuckles. “You’ve got this horrified look on your face like I just confessed to kicking puppies or tripping old ladies.”
“Uh, that was oddly specific. Do you do that?”
Another smile. “No. Pets and people are completely safe with me.” His voice hints of assurance that goes beyond teasing, as if he wants me to know he’s genuinely a good guy. “And no. I’ve never had one.”
“Not even when you were a kid?”
He shakes his head. “We never had that kind of stuff where I lived. Then by the time I was on my own, I guess I’d outgrown it.”
His phrasing stands out to me. Where I lived .
He didn’t say home . I’ll let the first part of his remark slide because it’s none of my business, but the chocoholic in me won’t allow the second to go unchallenged.
Seriously, I want someone to look at me the way I do chocolate.
“This is not like middle school acne.” Or my crush on Big Time Rush.
“You don’t outgrow hot chocolate.” Before I can think better of it, I grab his elbow and tug him toward the nearest concession stand.
“I need you to keep an open mind. This one will no doubt be watered down,” I say, even as I witness Barbara behind the counter preparing the drinks using one packet for two cups.
“But you have to at least try it. Some of my greatest memories are linked to this.”
“Such as?” He watches me as if everything I say is important.
“Like when I was a kid. After I spent the day sledding, Gran always had hot choc …” I realize the line is moving forward, but my legs won’t budge. “You’re looking like that again. Seriously?”
“What?”
“When I mentioned sledding, you had that same blank expression—like with the hot chocolate. Don’t tell me?—”
“That I’ve never been sledding?” His eyes brighten with amusement. “Not sure I should confess since you already pity me.”
I gasp. “I don’t pity you. Okay, I kinda do. What did you do when you were a kid?”
“I lived a lot of winters in the South.”
“But you mentioned earlier that you lived here off and on.”
He nods. “That’s true too.”
He’s purposely being vague, but—as much as it kinda annoys me not to have all the inside information—I’ve only known this man for less than an hour.
I shouldn’t expect a Netflix documentary, while I should be settling for an Instagram reel.
But I can pull some guesses from what he told me.
He said he lived in Silver Creek off and on.
He also never mentioned home or family. Should I assume he hasn’t had either?
What if he was in foster care and was shuffled around a lot?
But would that account for living in the South?
Maybe he lived with distant relatives? A military one?
I have no idea. Except, I can’t shake the compassion stirring me.
“Wait here. I’ll be, like, two minutes.”
He offers a smile, unfazed by my sporadic behavior. “I’ll be here, Greta.”
Wow, I love my name on his lips. Never mind. I have a Good Samaritan act to perform, and I won’t be distracted. I hustle to the parking lot off Main Street, connecting the park and the town’s major thoroughfare.
“Bruce!” I wave down my parade wingman.
He sees me just as he’s entering his truck. By the time I reach his Ford Maverick—because of course he has this model vehicle—he’s eyeing me beneath his Bass Pro Shops hat. “You need a lift?”
“Nope, but I’m glad I caught you.” Every year, Bruce Struthers pulls the store’s parade float. He is kind enough to return the trailer to my grandparents’ storage unit. Like Leonard and Pap, he’s one of the Mavericks. “I need to grab something off the float.”
He steps aside and makes a sweeping “be my guest” motion. “Did you see they put that surfing elf by the fountain this year?”
I pause my climbing onto the trailer. “Yeah, I, uh, heard about that. Smart move.”
He gives a slow nod. “Oh, and Ned almost set himself on fire.”
I crane my neck to look back at him. “Santa Ned?”
“Yep. Fumbled his cigarette, and it got caught on his boot. That stupid fur trim went up in a blaze.”
Was that the yelling I heard? “Poor Ned.”
“The board will probably retract the smoke break from his contract.” Ever since Bruce’s grandson passed the Ohio bar exam, the Maverick has been obsessed with legal terms. “Good thing the ground is covered in snow. Ned rolled until the fire was out. Kids thought he was making snow angels.”
“At least he’s not hurt. I’ll offer to fix the suit,” I say as I find what I’m looking for and hop down. “Thank you, Brucie.” I grin at his eye roll.
I return to where I left Leo, and his brows spike at the large item in my hand.
“Are you serious?” He gives an incredulous shake of the head. “A sled?”
I pat the large wooden contraption. “It’s a rite of passage, Leo.”
“Are you dressed for it, though?” His gaze skims over my Mrs. Claus costume.
“I’ll have you know, I made this thing. And its thermal interlining is doing its job. I can be comfortable in the North Pole right now.”
He offers a warm smile, and I can confirm the man has dimples. “You seem to have everything I need. First the needle and thread, and now a sled.” His dark brown eyes lock on mine. “I’m wondering if you’re even real right now.”
Instead of explaining the sewing kit is because I’m often wearing vintage clothing that tends to be delicate and the sled was part of my “Santa’s Antique Toys” display for my float, I only beam at him.
“I’m Mrs. Claus. Isn’t it my specialty to grant wishes?
And I bet you wished to go sledding at one point in your life. Am I right?”
He examines the sled, and then his gaze meets mine. The meaning in his expression is as hidden as the stars in the cloud-covered sky.
I realize my error too late. This is always my issue.
I dive headfirst, or maybe heartfirst, into things without giving full consideration.
I just met him, and I’m already wrangling him into drinks and sledding.
I can’t even claim he’s my friend. Oh my gosh.
What if he’s in a relationship? What if he’s married?
I can’t tell if he’s wearing a wedding band on account of his gloves.
I should’ve thought this through. The only handsome young guys in this town are family men.
The single ones live an hour away in the city, where the action is.
I’m a horrible person. This guy is no doubt married with littles, and not only do I look ridiculous, but I’m also pathetic.
He’s probably looking for a way to let me down gently because he thinks I’m a crazy person.
“Never mind.” I look at the 1970s wooden contraption in my hands as if it’s crawling with termites. “It was a stupid idea, and you don’t?—”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking,” he offers with a shake of his head. “It’s just?—”
“I know.” I finish for him. “You’re right.
We really aren’t dressed for it.” And you have a wife, two kids, and a vacation reserved in Hilton Head, where everyone wears white and poses for pictures on the beach.
Meanwhile, I’ll be beachless. Still here.
Same day in and day out. I don’t even own a white shirt because I spill stuff on myself.
“Actually, I was trying to get a step ahead of you and recommend a hill.” He scratches the side of his face. “But I don’t know the area that well. I only moved here not too long ago.”
He said I, not we. Relief floods through me. “I overheard you telling Josie you work for the town?”
He takes the sled from my hands and props an arm over it. “In a way, yeah.”
“Is that how you knew about the lightbulb in the storage room?”
“No, I happened to see it. I don’t work for the borough but a different division. Just started.”