Chapter 7 #2
He held a chair out for her and then took a seat across from her. She smiled at the gesture.
“Santa? I’m not bothered by him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t believe. My mom was practical. I didn’t even know there was a Santa until I started school. It’s just not part of Christmas for me.”
“What?”
Nick’s shock kind of surprised her. Like he was personally offended by her non-belief. “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. Everyone stops believing when they are, what, like, nine or ten. I’d cut him completely from Winter Wonderland but parents and the board would revolt.”
Nick shoved his hand through that thick chestnut hair of his, mussing it up adorably, as he stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.
“Sorry. I-I’m not sure what— You don’t … still believe?” she asked gently, trying to keep her tone light.
“Where do you think the magic of the season comes from, if not from beliefs like Santa Claus?”
“The stores, my festival, marshmallow mochas,” she said with a wink at him.
“I can’t believe you’ve never received a present from Santa,” he said.
“This is really a big deal for you, I can tell. The truth is, one year … I think I was ten or eleven … there was a present on the coffee table in the living room from Santa. My mom was ticked off and said it was from my dad,” Cora admitted.
The image of that Christmas was a strong one. The present stuck in her mind because they normally hadn’t exchanged them. Her dad was remarried by then, and Cora’s mom was bitter that he might have found some happiness.
“Was it from him?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. When she’d called her dad to ask, his new wife Lee had answered the phone and Cora had hung up.
“Doesn’t matter. Santa’s just not really that important to the holiday celebration.
There are a lot of parents that don’t even bother with the lie of Santa.
It creates mistrust in kids when they get older and realize their parents deceived them. ”
Nick put his hands on the table and tried to speak calmly.
“Santa isn’t a lie. The magic and wonder he creates spread joy and happiness around the world.
It’s those feelings that are carried with everyone who experiences it to their family, their friends, their neighbors.
Santa is one of the cornerstones of the winter holidays, giving those who embrace him a lighter soul. ”
He was so passionate and eloquent for a rustic, sexy toymaker.
“The way you talk about it, that’s beautiful.
All of that sentiment is important. That’s why I push so hard to ensure that Winter Wonderland is always stretching boundaries.
Not every family or child is going to celebrate the same way.
” She hoped that was an end to the discussion.
“What do you think about my hot chocolate?”
He looked down at his mug, let out a huge sigh, and took a big gulp of his drink. “It’s really good.”
“Thank you.”
There was a seriousness to his face that made her pause. “What is it?”
“Would you let me show you why Santa is important to Christmas? Really come with me on a journey of belief?”
Bringing belief to Cora was going to be harder than he’d expected. There was nothing that said she had to believe in him. There were good people around the world who had their own faith and contributed to the magic of the season in their own way.
She’d made traditional Christmas celebrations the heart of her festival, and yet she was always pushing new things.
He needed time to puzzle this out. But instead of working on this conundrum, he was sitting in her deliciously snug little kitchen, sipping her delicious hot chocolate, trying not to brush her delicious legs with his sock foot.
He forced his mind off the spot on her thigh where her sparkly skirt pressed into the soft flesh and looked around her kitchen again.
There was a cottagecore aesthetic to her home that was not reflected in her appearance, her office or her festival.
It was as if she wanted to believe in things that couldn’t be purchased or seen, but didn’t trust in it.
Trust. Was that the key to Cora?
“Why is this so important to you?” she asked, observing him warily.
“It just is.”
“You’re not going to convince me with stupid answers like that one,” she said, taking their mugs to the sink to rinse them out. The glide of her feet across the tiled floor was barely more than a soft whisper that made it impossible for him to do anything but watch her legs and the way she moved.
There was something lyrical about it.
“Nick?”
“Hmm?” he asked, lifting his eyes to meet hers.
“Like what you see?” she asked.
Way too much. He shook his head. “You have great legs.”
“I know,” she said, and winked at him.
When he’d put her name on the Naughty List, he’d had no idea how deeply entrenched she was in realism. Not that there was anything wrong with realists, but their denial that magic existed alongside it pained him.
The answer wasn’t going to come to him tonight. He needed to get back to Hearthvale to analyze all he’d learned and try to come up with a strategy. He also needed to distance himself from the temptation of her legs. They wouldn’t help him find a wife by Christmas Eve.
“Walk me out?” he asked her.