Page 67 of Stay this Christmas
His wide-eyed look of warning made me bite back the rest of what I’d been about to suggest. The kids might enjoy looking at everything the market had to offer. Then again, they might expect presents, too.
“There’s no telling exactly where Dad and Ava are,” he said.
Right. His dad and step-mom were Christmas shopping. Probably would ruin a bit of the magic for Finn and Willa if we stumbled across them checking off Santa’s list.
Willa kept her hand locked in Sam’s, swinging it as we wandered along the sidewalk. Finn darted to store windows anytime something inside looked interesting, dodging people in a blur of red and green. I snuggled deeper into my hoodie, soaking up the sights.
I loved downtown Magnolia Ridge at Christmastime. Most shops decorated their windows and storefronts until everything sparkled with the colors of the season. Could hardly move five feet down the street without passing a miniature tree or faux-snowman, and one store even had a whole herd of light-up animatronic reindeer out front. Doors chimed as they swung open, Christmas music drifting around us as we passed. I felt as cozy and snug as if I were walking through one of my snow globes.
Minus the snow.
Sam whistled as we neared the pavilion. “Line’s longer than I expected.”
“Everybody wants to see Santa,” Willa piped up.
Sam’s eyes met mine. After everything he’d told me, I knew one person who didn’t want to see Santa. Yet here he was, stepping up to take his little siblings to participate in a tradition that brought back bad memories for him, and doing it with a smile.
His responsible streak at the climbing gym had made my little heart flutter, but seeing him in line to greet Saint Nick with his younger brother and sister had it spinning like a top. His obvious affection for them—and their adoration of him—proved hard to resist.
“This isn’t the real Santa.” Finn looked down his little nose at his sister. “There are lots of Santas, and none of them are real. Everybody knows that.”
Willa turned big eyes up to Sam, her lower lip wobbling at that shocking news. He frowned at her for a second, and I held my breath, afraid he truly might burst that bubble. He bent down to get his face close to hers.
“There are lots of Santas, that’s true. But they all work together, and report kids’ Christmas lists back to the North Pole.” He leaned even closer, ready to share a secret. “And if you’re really lucky, you get to see therealSanta.”
Her face shone out her joy at his perfect response, her grin hitting me smack in the tender spot behind my ribs. That spot was getting a workout around Sam lately.
“I hope we get to see the real one,” she whispered.
“I hope so, too,” he whispered back.
I hadn’t had Sam reassuring a little girl about Santa on my bingo card, but he’d thoroughly checked that box. Those walls I kept trying to rebuild to keep him out? He’d just bulldozed them courtesy a tender interaction with his tiny sister. Affection flooded in, drowning out my resolve to keep my feet firmly planted in the friend zone.
He straightened up and caught me goggling at him. A trademark Sam smile crept over his mouth, his lips dipping and tugging until his dimples popped out.
Oh, those dimples.
I used to trace them, running my fingertips lightly over the divot, testing their depth. I used to kiss them, too, feeling the little hollows beneath my lips. They were never covered with this much scruff back then, but I could probably still find them beneath a soft kiss.
His smile grew wider as though I’d said all that out loud. I wasn’t doing a very good job of playing it cool tonight. Erasing the glazed expression from my face, I snapped out of my dimple-contemplation.
Platonic friends,I reminded myself. Sounded weak even in my head.
“Do you know what you’re going to ask Santa for?” I asked generally. Anything to take my mind off dimples, scruff, and kisses.
Finn rattled off a video game console name. “It comes with thirty-six games.”
No surprise that the kid who didn’t believe in Santa anymore still expected to get expensive goodies from him on Christmas morning.
“I want a dolly that looks just like me,” Willa said from Sam’s other side as we moved forward in line. “With black hair and brown eyes, and we’ll have matching dresses and everything.”
“Ooh, I love that idea.”
Willa tilted her head up to look at Sam. “What about you, Samuel?”
Kind of loved she’d latched on to that so quickly.
He turned to me, silently telegraphing…whatexactly, I had no idea, and didn’t really want to speculate.
