Chapter 10
L ater that night I peek around the corner into the lobby with a frown on my face. Grandma insisted that I wear the full Santa costume, including the itchy beard, extra padding around my middle, and boots that pinch my toes. I’m having shit luck this week when it comes to getting stuck in situations where I’m forced to wear ill-fitted footwear. At least tonight I’m indoors and not chasing a stubborn dachshund through the snow.
The lobby is buzzing with guests who’ve come to meet Santa. I spot Winston in a festive red sweater covered in white snowflakes, trailing after a group of kids and eagerly cleaning up the crumbs from their gingerbread cookies.
Grandma is at the reception desk, and when she notices me, she stops midway through filling a bowl with candy canes to come and give me a hug.
“Brooks, you look just like your father.” Her voice cracks as she wipes away a tear.
Before his passing, my dad always donned the red suit and loved meeting with all the town kids. I swear I can hear his hearty laugh, the kind that filled the room and made everything seem a little brighter.
I swallow hard as Grandma pulls me into a hug. A week ago, I would have torn this suit off or walked out the door the second she compared to my dad. Christmas has always been a reminder of losing him, and I’ve been avoiding all our traditions because I couldn’t face them without him.
This year feels different.
My attention shifts to Lila, who just walked inside dressed in a green elf costume, complete with candy cane striped tights and curled-toe shoes.
Her blonde hair is pulled into a loose braid down her back, leaving a few strands to frame her face—the flush enhancing her cheekbones and the vivid blue of her eyes. There’s a spark of amusement in her expression, making her look almost ethereal.
“Lila’s beautiful, isn’t she,” Grandma says from beside me.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice almost a whisper.
She nudges me with a knowing smile. “You better hurry up. The kids are waiting.”
I avert my gaze, swallowing hard. “Right, the kids,” I grumble.
When I step into the lobby, all eyes are on me. Several kids shuffle closer, clutching their handwritten lists tightly. As I’m taking a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves, Lila appears at my side, her hand slipping into mine for a brief squeeze.
“I’m glad you’re here, Santa . You’re going to do great,” she hums.
Her encouragement pushes me forward, and I stride toward the oversized red velvet chair with gold trim that I helped Grandma set up near the fireplace this afternoon. Once seated, I flash the kids a smile and let out a hearty “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”
They erupt in cheers as Lila and my grandma direct them to form a line. The first kid in front is a little girl holding a stuffed reindeer. She tugs on its frayed ear, her wide eyes peeking out from beneath her bangs. I watch as she takes a tentative step toward me, then hesitates.
Before she can bolt, Lila crouches down next to her and brushes the hair from her face. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Santa is really nice.” The little girl gives me another once-over before giving Lila a skeptical look.
“Can you go first?” she asks Lila, her voice wary.
Lila glances between us, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. After briefly hesitating, she leans down, giving the girl a warm smile and squeezing her hand.
“Sure, sweetie. I’d be happy to,” she says.
My mind blanks when Lila rises and walks toward me. She perches on my knee, looping her arm around my neck for support. I place my hand on her back, and when her fingers brush the nape of my neck, it sends a jolt down my spine.
She tilts her head, those crystal-blue eyes meeting mine, leaving me defenseless against the heat of her touch.
Lila schools her expression, grinning down at the little girl who’s watching us closely. “See, Santa isn’t so bad. Ready for your turn now?” she asks, sliding off my lap.
The little girl inches closer, clutching her reindeer to her chest. With a tiny nod, she bravely steps forward, glancing back at Lila for reassurance before letting me lift her onto my knee. Her legs dangle, and a ghost of a smile crosses her lips when I lean in and ask, “What’s your name, little one?”
She tilts her chin up and declares, “Penny, and I’m not little. I’m six.”
I chuckle softly. “Six, huh? You’re right; that’s definitely not little. Any ideas of what you want for Christmas this year?” I ask, adjusting her on my knee.
Penny’s eyes light up as she launches into a detailed description of a blue dollhouse with a kitchen stocked with pretend food, a porch swing, and a tiny mailbox that opens and closes.
When she finally stops to catch her breath, I lean in and whisper, “I think the elves are going to have a blast making that for you. Don’t you think so?” I ask Lila, who’s standing nearby holding a bowl of candy canes.
She beams down at Penny. “Absolutely. Just so long as Santa remembers to double-check his naughty and nice list,” she says, giving me a wink.
“I pick up all my toys when Mommy asks, so I’m definitely on the nice list,” Penny says, puffing her chest out with pride. “And I always eat my vegetables, except for those little green balls.” She scrunches her nose and sticks out her tongue.
I chuckle. “Peas?”
She shakes her head. “No. Peas are my favorite.”
“Do you mean Brussel sprouts?”
“Yeah. Those.” She makes a face like she ate something sour. “Those are gross. I tried feeding them to a dog once and even he didn’t eat them.”
I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I have a secret for you, kid. I don’t like Brussel sprouts either.” She giggles into her hands as I lean back and declare, “Don’t worry, Santa doesn’t care if you don’t like them. You’re a shoo-in for the nice list.”
She claps her hands. “Did you hear that Mommy? I’m a shoo-in,” she exclaims to a woman standing nearby, her brown eyes lighting up at the sight of her daughter’s enthusiasm.They have the same jet-black hair, contrasting with their pale skin.
“Of course you are, Penn,” her mom says.
She comes over to help her off my lap.
“Thanks for your patience,” she tells me and Lila.
“It was no trouble,” Lila grins. “Merry Christmas, Penny.”
“Merry Christmas,” she shouts back as her mom tugs her toward the exit.
That’s when I notice the threadbare patches at the elbows of Penny’s sweater and the worn cuffs of her jeans. It makes me wonder if money is tight for her family and if Santa will be able to visit her this year.
God, I hope so.
My dad’s old charity, The Holiday Claus Foundation, comes to mind. Its mission was to ensure that the kids in Starlight Pines and the surrounding areas had presents under the tree, regardless of their parents’ financial situation. It was a family affair—my dad handled fundraising and identified those who needed help most, my brothers and I picked out most of the toys, and my grandma would wrap them.
When he passed, I shoved the charity to the furthest corner of my mind, thinking someone else in the community would step up to carry it forward. Now, I’m wondering if I was wrong to assume that.
The last thing I want is for Penny or the other kids to go without.
By the time we’ve gotten through the long line of kids eager for their turn with Santa, I’m so ready for it to be over. One boy nearly yanking my beard off, and a three-year-old demanded a pony with a purple tail. Glad I’m not the one who has to explain why there isn’t one waiting under her tree come morning.
Although I was hesitant at first, I can’t deny playing Santa turned out better than expected. Surprisingly, it helped me feel closer to my dad than I have in a long time, making me wonder if the best way to keep his memory alive is to celebrate the holiday that he loved the most.
My shift in perspective is all thanks to Lila. She’s taught me how to find joy in the little things, and now I’m beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, it’s possible to learn to be happy again.
Having her by my side tonight made all the difference—she has a way with kids that’s enchanting. They might have come to see Santa, but it was her voice and infectious smile that had them hanging on her every word. She brought a special kind of wonder to the event, and I’m grateful I could be a part of it.
The real magic of Christmas isn’t the presents wrapped in ribbon or the light-covered trees—it’s her.
I have my grandma to thank for bringing us together tonight. Her persistence may be overwhelming at times, but she usually knows best.
Once I’ve ditched the itchy beard, I take a sip of water from the bottle Lila brought me earlier. I scan the room, checking to see if she’s back from helping a single mom get her kids into the car.
She’s across the room, leaning against the reception desk, talking to a guy in a baggy flannel and beanie. His back is facing me so I can’t see his face, but there’s something very familiar about him.
I assume he’s a guest staying at the inn until he gives her arm a familiar squeeze. He says something that causes her to laugh, and the musical sound is like a magnet, drawing me closer.
Who the hell is that?
It’s evident they know each other, but I don’t appreciate how friendly he is with Lila. She might not officially be mine, but after what happened between us this morning, I was looking forward to exploring whateverthis thing is between us.
A red haze clouds my vision, and my jaw ticks as I watch the stranger lean in to hug her. My patience snaps when I catch the smile on Lila’s face, the one she reserves for people she’s close with. Before I can stop myself, I march over.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask, disregarding her questioning stare as I pull her to my side, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“We all know you like being the center of attention, but that outfit is next-level, Brooks,” a familiar voice drawls.
My jaw drops when I look up to find my brother is the mystery man. “Jameson?”
When we video chat, he’s always wearing his white coat or a button-up shirt with tailored pants and polished dress shoes. He’s hardly recognizable in a flannel jacket, boot cut jeans, and boots. Plus, the beanie hides his black hair, typically trimmed short in a crew cut.
He mentioned arriving on Christmas Eve, but he hasn’t called me since I arrived in town, so I wasn’t sure if he’d follow through. He practically lives at the hospital and rarely takes a day off, even during the holidays. Something we have in common.
“He came to visit your grandma, too. Isn’t that nice?” Lila interjects with a smile.
“Yeah, very nice,” I say as I tug her closer.
Jameson throws his head back and laughs. “You didn’t tell me you were dating Lila Monroe, brother.”
I glower at him but don’t get a chance to respond before Grandma spots him.
“Jameson? Is that really you?” She hurries over to my brother, squeezing his cheeks affectionately before drawing him in for a hug. “Would it hurt for you boys to give me a heads up that you’re coming? Is Calder with you?” She glances over his shoulder.
Jameson shakes his head. “Sorry, Grandma. He’s still in Nepal without cell service.”
Her eyes betray a hint of sadness before she conceals it. “Well, I’m glad you and Brooks made it.” She gives his cheek another pat. “How long are you here for?”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “That’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”
“Sounds ominous,” Grandma chuckles. “Let’s save this conversation for after Christmas. We’ve got a wedding to celebrate, and I want to soak up every minute with my grandsons while I can.” She reaches out and holds both our hands.
Another pang of guilt strikes me when I consider how difficult it must have been for her that we’ve stayed away for so long. It’s hard to imagine the void she must’ve felt.
Being back in Starlight Pines has made me realize how fleeting time is, and I don’t want to miss any more moments with my family then I already have. They should always come first, and I only wish it hadn’t taken me this long to realize that. I thought I was protecting myself by staying away, but I’ve only been running from what matters most.
“Hope you like sleeping in the storage room,” I tell Jameson with a smirk.
Since the cot broke, I guess he’ll have to settle for a makeshift bed of blankets. Now that he’s a big-wig doctor, he prefers the finer things in life, like private jets, tailored suits, and five-star hotels. Needless to say, I’m going to get a kick out of him roughing it for a few days.
Grandma pats Jameson on the arm. “Nonsense,” she tells him. “You can sleep on one of the other foldable beds. There’s plenty of space for one in my room.”
I stare at her, certain I must have heard her wrong. “I’m sorry, the what now?”
Lila puts her hand on my chest, chiming in. “We have several fold-out beds on hand for when guests need additional sleeping arrangements.”
“Is there a particular reason I wasn’t offered one of those, Grandma?”
She shrugs. “We have a full house, and I assumed they were all in use. It wasn’t until yesterday, when I checked the spare linen closet that I realized we had a couple still available.”
Bullshit.
She’s the most organized person I know—there’s no way she overlooked something like this. Come to think of it, when I tried asking her about a replacement, she deflected.
“It’s getting late, and we all have a big day ahead of us,” she announces. “I’m going to get Jameson’s bed set up, and then Winn and I have a date with a holiday rom-com and some peanut butter biscuits.” Winston, who’s been resting in a dog bed near the front desk, perks up at the mention of treats and trots over to my grandma, pressing his nose against her leg, demanding she follow up on her promise.
He might be a bossy little thing, but I admit, he’s starting to grow on me.
“You don’t have to take Winn tonight,” Lila interjects. “I’ll make sure he gets a treat.”
“Hush now,” Grandma says with her hands on her hips. “He’s staying with me, and that’s final. We’ll see you two in the morning.” She bends down to scoop Winston into her arms and heads toward her room. “Come along, Jameson,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Looks like I’m being summoned,” he says with a hint of amusement in his tone. “It was nice to see you, Lila.” He gives her arm an affectionate squeeze, earning a sharp look from me. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he adds with a knowing grin as he follows Grandma out of the room.
Lila and I are left alone, the silence lingering in the air.
My mind drifts back to the unexpected surprise waiting for me after I finished my workout this morning. The last thing I expected was to come back to the cottage to the sound of moans coming from the bathroom. Curiosity got the best of me, and I froze in place when I found Lila in the shower with the showerhead between her legs, my name passing her lips while she stroked her clit with one hand and the showerhead in the other.
It’s only been three days.
Three days of stolen glances, every touch leaving me wanting more, and a chemistry so electric, it’s felt like I’m on the brink of something monumental.
Our kiss in the photo booth sealed my fate, setting off a chain of events I wasn’t prepared for. Her beauty is mesmerizing, her wit intoxicating, and the way she makes my body burn is all-consuming.
I tried staying away, but after witnessing her unravel before my eyes, I’m done resisting.
I want this woman.
No, I need this woman, and I can’t wait another minute to claim her.
“Ready to go back to the cottage?” Lila asks, her voice breathless. “Unless you’d prefer to sleep on one of those fold-out beds tonight,” she teases.
I place my hand on the small of her back, gripping her hip with the other hand. “Let’s go back to your place,” I whisper in her ear.