Page 83 of Not Your Average Vixen
Not anymore.
Not with Fiona Traeger and Palmer Rudolph.
The divide between himself and his mother and father had happened gradually, like a crack in the ice. Slowly, one year of no contact turned into two, and two into four. And then, when he’d graduated from college only to look out into the crowd and see Grace, Scott, the judge, Russell, and Denise clapping as he received his diploma, he’d realized that the separation from his parents was complete. The unwanted child was no longer a child. He was an island unto himself, and this reality was mutually accepted by all parties.
It boiled down to this: Soren Christopher Traeger Rudolph was a ruthless man. But with the Abbotts, he was Scooter. The gangly kid they’d known since he was fourteen.
But who was he to Bridget? What box did she fit into?
She was supposed to be a fling, a fleeting romance on the periphery of his life. Instead, she straddled both worlds.
Soren or Scooter, she knew them both.
No one had ever bridged that divide.
And no one ever could because it would never work, would it?
All eyes were back on him. He needed to say something.
“What brings you to Kringle, Colorado? I thought you lived in Vermont,” he asked coolly.
If this wasn’t a Santa-sized mind fuck, he didn’t know what was. But he couldn’t reveal how affected he was by this twilight zone situation.
“I’m not sure if you know this, Mr. Rudolph, but Ernie is a member of the Fraternal Order of Bearded Santas. We have many friends who reside in Kringle now,” Agnes answered.
Of—freaking—course, Ernie was a member!
Was every dude with a real white beard part of this club?
“We had a little extra time on our hands this holiday season, and our friends invited us to stay with them in Kringle. We’re here through Christmas Day, and then we’ll head back to Vermont to see our children and grandchildren,” Ernie finished.
Agnes closed her eyes and inhaled. “What’s that I smell?”
Bridget’s cheeks grew rosy. “I’m so sorry. You’re probably wondering what we’re doing here.”
“No, no, Delores told me that she had a guest who needed to use the space. We’re always happy to help if we can, and it’s so nice to see the shop humming with holiday activity.”
Bridget squeezed the woman’s hand. “I’m very grateful. This morning we made a wedding cake here—a three-tiered red velvet cake frosted in buttercream, and then you’re also smelling the—”
“Sugar cookies!” Ernie exclaimed, rubbing his paunch of a Santa belly.
“Please, try one,” Bridget said, throwing eye daggers at Soren as she came behind the counter, then handed the Angels each a cookie.
“We all helped make them!” Carly chimed.
Cole walked up to Ernie. “Are you the real Santa?”
Ernie chuckled. “No, dear boy, I’m one of his helpers.”
“Have you seen a Christmas fairy?” the boy asked earnestly.
“Not recently,” the man replied warmly.
Cole blew out a frustrated breath as the Angels each took a bite of their cookie.
“Divine!” Ernie remarked through his bite as few sprinkles settled in the white of his beard.
“Perfect crunch on the outside and moist and delicious on the inside. Just the right amount of frosting. Well done,” Agnes said, complimenting the group.
