Chapter 20 Drew
DREW
We are a half hour from our Santa’s Village event, kids are starting to mill around our lobby, waiting for entrance into the back room we’ve set up to look like his workshop.
The gingerbread scent seeps through the doors from the refreshment table, the fake snow machine is humming in its warm up, and twinkling lights flicker against the shiny wrapping paper on the workshop table.
All the work Greyson and I put in to make the set up look perfect…and Santa has food poisoning.
One of the little boys grabs my pants leg. “Miss Drew, is Santa really coming?”
My heart seizes, I can’t tell this little boy, “No.” I have to find someone to take over and don the Santa costume. I’d do it if I could.
“Of course he is,” I say automatically, even as my phone buzzes with another no from the list of desperate backup calls.
My heart twists. These kids have been looking forward to this all month.
“Just a little bit longer. It takes a lot of magic for him to get here from the North Pole, so we have to wish really hard.”
He squeals and claps his hands before closing his eyes and scrunching up his face in a wish.
I paste on a smile, and a little girl from my snowball team grabs my attention next. “Can we tell him what we want again even if we already mailed our letters?”
“It never hurts to remind Santa what you want. Don’t forget to tell him why.”
“Okay!” She runs back to her mom, hopping in place so that her fluffy dress floats and falls.
The kids are going to be so disappointed. I’m running around, trying to find a replacement, but no one is free.
Adam finds me near tears in my office, trying to find a way to salvage this.
We can still give out the presents. Have the food set up. Take pictures.
Even without a Santa.
But it’s not going to be the same.
“Hey. What’s going on? You look like you’re about to have a breakdown.” Adam cups my face, smoothing his thumbs across my cheeks.
“No, I’m full swing into a breakdown. We don’t have a Santa. He’s sick.”
Adam’s green eyes soften. “That’s easy enough to fix, princess. Go get me the suit.”
Wait. What? “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I can’t let those kids be disappointed. Go on. Grab it.”
Excitement and relief floods me, and I bounce up on my toes to plant a kiss on him.
He doesn’t waste the opportunity, his arm cinching around my waist to deepen the kiss. I’m breathless when he lets go of me.
“Hurry up.” Adam spins me and gives me a light tap on the ass.
I slip out of my office and gather the costume from the back where I have an extra costume stowed and jog back to Adam, who’s already stripping off his suit to change.
The sight of his bare chest has me sucking in a sharp breath.
Adam’s grin heats up my middle, and my face flushes with the renewed rush of attraction.
I hand over the suit and back away quickly. Otherwise, I’m going to distract both of us from the task at hand. And his laugh wakes something up inside me.
“I should”—I point to the door—“get everyone ready for Santa’s arrival.”
“You mean you don’t want to stay and ogle me as I change?”
I do. God, do I want to stay, but no.
It’s not a good idea. I shake my head and make my escape, wrangling the kids and getting them amped up for Santa’s arrival.
They’re all jumping and cheering as Adam steps out in the full get up—the padded belly, velvet suit, and the fake white beard. God. How does he still look hot in that suit?
The kids cheer as he booms a loud, “Ho, ho, ho!” before they swarm him.
“He’s real!” a few of them cheer in echo of each other.
Adam stops to place a hand on a child’s head. “Timmy, you’ve grown two inches since last year!”
Timmy grins up at him with a gap-toothed smile. He’s missing one of his front two teeth, and it’s adorable.
Another girl runs up and wraps her arms around Adam’s leg on his way to the big chair we have set up for him.
He stops and smiles down at her. “Carla. Have you finished building that birdhouse with your father?”
Her eyes light up, and she hops without releasing her grip on him. “Yep.”
Why does the way he interacts with these kids not only warm my chest but hit me emotionally?
It’s like the kids can sense his goodness.
He finally makes it to his chair, the parents are already whispering, “That’s not our normal Santa.” But I don’t hear any complaints in their tones.
I distract kids with little trinkets as they wait in line, and many of them double fist sweet treats from the snack table.
One of the baristas from the bakery shows up with a shy little one on her hip.
And my heart swells when Adam reaches both arms out to take him and settle him on his lap.
Adam leans in to talk with him softly.
Small nods and a quiet exchange has the boy’s mom beaming when she lifts her son from Adam’s lap.
“Wow, you liked Santa, didn’t you?”
Her son’s nod is precious.
I watch as Adam talks to each child like they’re the only person in the room.
His eyes crinkle behind the fake beard, his laugh rolls through the space like warm cocoa, and I realize that this is what he looks like when he lets his guard down.
I also hear some ooo’s and aah’s about the decor, and my pride is at an all time high.
No gossipy whispers or veiled insults. All compliments, especially for Adam as Santa.
I’m not sure any of them know that it’s him, he’s pulled off the character so well.
The glint in his green eyes when he looks at me is the only telling trait, and I know it’s him.
I slip up to the chair in a small break of kids on his lap to hand him a sugar cookie.
His wink sends heat to my cheeks, and my heart absolutely melts. I might be falling in love a little bit.
Shit. Did the l-word just slip through my thoughts? I’m in so much trouble.
Pure Christmas joy slowly settles by the end of the evening.
The kids are rosy-cheeked and sugar-high, clutching candy canes and small presents.
The parents shake my hand, thanking me for another magical Christmas event.
But the truth is, Adam saved it. Saved me.
I watch him kneel to help a little boy tie his mitten, eyes bright with laughter, and I can hardly contain myself as the room finally empties out.
When we’re alone, I grab his bag hand and lead him out to the hall and up a back set of stairs.
In my pocket is a room key—the one room still free that I’ve never taken advantage of before.
He teases me as I open the door. “Who knew the Santa get-up would be your thing?”
I shrug and pull him inside. “I do like my men older.”
Adam laughs loudly as I close the door behind us.
“Take off the beard but leave the rest.” Because I do like him in it. I want to be the one to strip him from it.
“You really do have an old man fetish, don’t you?” He removes the beard.
I smile and shrug again. “Maybe I have a good man fetish.”
That lights him up, and he charges forward to wrap an arm around my waist and yank me against his chest.
He’s so solid, and the velvet under my hands is soft as I spread them over his shoulders.
Fingers curling in the white fur collar, I tug him closer, lifting on my toes for a kiss.
He complies, mouth firm but supple against mine. His capable hands smooth up my back.
Heat washes through me, and I open to him almost immediately.
Adam swoops in when I let him, claiming me like a caveman.
An alpha. And I swear he’s about to toss me over his shoulder and beat his chest.
I loop my arms around his neck, and I don’t miss my mark as he swings me up off my feet, wrapping my legs around his waist.
Which is a struggle with him so wide, but he holds me easily.
And I’m perfectly lined up to feel him hard through the flimsy suit.
I’m in so much trouble.
Because I want this. I want him.
And maybe it’s been obvious since day one with the attention he’s paid me, but I’m playing catch up.
Our kiss breaks, and I struggle to catch my breath. I touch his jaw, tracing the line up to his cheek. “I’m never going to look at Santa the same way again.”
His laugh is full, better than the one he put on for the kids. “God, Drew. You’re a breath of fresh air. You know that?”
Is he as surprised by this thing between us as I am? Maybe not anymore, but that first spark when we ran into each other on the street? Right before he offered me the job? Did he know this would be intense to the point that it’s nearly all consuming?
My thumb finds his bottom lip and dips into his mouth as I pull it down. His green eyes go dark, pupils blowing wide.
I lean in to bump my nose against his. “So, what’s your next move, Mr. Claus?”