Chapter 2 Dove
Dove
I'm losing this battle, and I know it.
Mia and Bentley are pressed against the suite windows, watching for their parents' car. They've been at this for twenty minutes, and my heart breaks each time one asks, "Are they here yet?"
"The roads are really slippery," I explain for the fourth time. "But they'll be here soon."
What I don't tell them is that their parents' "delayed flight" is actually a last-minute business dinner in Denver. Not for Christmas Eve. Not for their own children.
Mrs. Ashford's text from this morning still makes my jaw clench: Flight pushed to tomorrow morning. Handle the children. Deal is worth eight figures.
Eight figures. More important than Christmas morning.
"Miss Dove?" Mia's voice is small. "What if they don't come at all?"
Her innocence makes my heart hurt. "They'll come. But while we wait, we're going to have the most amazing Christmas Eve ever."
By afternoon, I've run out of indoor activities. The storm has calmed to gentle snowfall, and the lodge's lights are starting to twinkle.
"Miss Dove," Mia tugs my sweater, "can we see if there are more Christmas lights? I want to make sure Santa can find us."
I look at two pairs of hopeful eyes. The Ashfords would have a coronary, but the Ashfords aren't here.
"Bundle up. We're going on an adventure."
Twenty minutes later, we're trudging through snow toward the main lodge, following decorative lights strung between trees. The kids chatter excitedly about each display.
"Miss Dove, look!" Bentley points to a maintenance shed between pine trees. "There's no lights. Santa might not see it."
"You're right. We should investigate."
What we find when I push open the unlocked door is the most organized workshop I've ever seen. Tools in neat rows, labeled shelves, and hanging from a hook near the door – an enormous red velvet Santa suit.
"Santa's clothes!" Bentley whispers, awed.
"He must have left them here," Mia adds, reaching to touch the velvet reverently.
Footsteps crunch in snow behind us. I turn, expecting Helen.
Instead, I find myself face-to-face with Tannon McKenzie.
I'm so startled I take a step back, trip over a toolbox, and go down in a tangle of red velvet and embarrassment.
"Jesus, watch it," Tannon growls, but his hands are already reaching to help me up.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" I scramble to get untangled, mortified. "Are you hurt? Did I break anything?"
"The Santa suit!" Mia gasps. "You're really Santa!"
Tannon looks from the suit in my arms to the children staring with wonder, and his gruff expression softens.
"Not yet," he says gently. "But I will be tomorrow night."
"We were looking for Christmas lights," Bentley explains. "For the dark building."
"Were you now?" Tannon takes the Santa suit from my arms, careful not to let it touch the ground. His hands brush mine in the transfer, and suddenly I'm very aware of how big they are. How rough with calluses. How different from the soft executive hands I'm used to dealing with.
I'm also noticing that there's no way in hell this man is fitting into that Santa suit without some serious alterations.
The red velvet might stretch over those shoulders, but it's going to be.
.. snug. Very snug. The kind of snug that will do absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he's built like he spends his days moving mountains.
"Santa doesn't need lights," he says, oblivious to my completely unprofessional thoughts. "He has special navigation."
"Like GPS?" Mia asks, fascinated.
"Something like that."
I brush snow off my jeans, trying to pull together some dignity. This is the second time today I've been soaking wet in front of this man. I'm starting to see a pattern.
"Sorry about breaking into your workshop," I say, gesturing at the organized space around us.
"Maintenance building. And it's fine."
"Tannon! There you are." Helen appears, looking relieved. "I've been looking everywhere. Oh, hello, Dove. What are you all doing out here?"
"Miss Dove was helping us look for Christmas lights," Mia explains. "And we found Santa's clothes! And Santa!"
Helen looks between Tannon and me, and I swear I see matchmaking in her eyes. "Perfect. Dove, meet your Santa. Tannon, meet the woman whose kids you'll be ho-ho-hoing for."
The woman whose kids. The phrase hits wrong, like it always does. These aren't my children, even though I love them like they are. Even though I'm the one here when they need comfort, who knows Mia likes her sandwiches cut diagonally and Bentley can't sleep without his elephant.
"They're not my kids," I say quietly.
Tannon's eyes find mine, and there's something understanding there. Like he knows what it's like to care about something you can't quite claim.
"But you're the one taking care of them," he says simply.
Something about the way he says it makes me want to cry.
"Miss Dove takes really good care of us," Mia says loyally, slipping her hand into mine. "She makes the best hot chocolate and knows all the good stories."
"And she doesn't get mad when I spill things," Bentley adds. "She just helps clean up."
I squeeze their hands, overwhelmed by their defense.
"Sounds like Miss Dove is pretty special," Tannon says, watching me with an expression I can't read.
"She is," Mia agrees. "Are you going to be a good Santa? Because Christmas is really important to us."
"I'll do my best," Tannon promises, and I can tell he means it.
The weight of expectation settles over us. I've spent the last year making promises to fill gaps left by absent parents.
"We should head back," I say, suddenly feeling the cold. "It's getting dark."
The lodge comes into view, warm light spilling from every window, and I realize tomorrow night's Christmas party just became more complicated than I expected.
Because now I'm not just worried about whether the kids will have a magical Christmas.
I'm worried about what happens when the magic ends.
And what happens to the feelings building between me and a mountain man.