Page 20 of Make You Mine This Christmas
Monday, the questions come earlier, while we’re walking back to the gym from Santa’s Workshop.
“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” Austin asks, our shoes crunching the packed snow made extra hard by the still freezing temperatures. Tomorrow is supposed to get into the twenties, and I can hardly wait.
“A town the size of Winterberry Glen, but in a climate like San Francisco. Somewhere it’s not as hot in the summer as it is in the South where I grew up, but it’s not as balls cold as it is here right now,” I say, a shiver racking through my body.
“You wouldn’t live in a city? After all your time in New York?”
I decide to give him a hint into what my life has been for the last three years. “I actually moved to Stamford three years ago. I don’t need to be in the city every day, so living there gives me a close enough commute, but also got me out of gridlocked Manhattan.”
I watch Austin absorb this information, his eyebrows moving up and down slightly, his lips rolling in and out of his mouth. He’s building a new Brody in his mind.
A few minutes later we’re changing and I decide to ask the same question. “How about you? Where would you live?”
Austin pulls on his sweatshirt before he answers, his head popping out of the neck hole with his hair deliciously ruffled. “I know you can’t picture me anywhere but here, but sometimes, I do wonder what it would be like to live in a city. Public transportation, more than a drive-through or pizza place open past eleven. I don’t know I could do it forever, but it might be nice to quicken up the pace.”
I bend down to tie my shoes, giving myself a few extra beats to answer. “You fit here and play a role in what makes this town so great. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t fit somewhere else too.”
He’s looking at me, expression guarded, like he’s not sure he should believe me or not. “Somewhere with a community but isn’t quite so small town. That’s where I see you,” I say, satisfied I’m correct in my assessment.
“Say, would that be somewhere like Stamford?” he asks, a shit-eating grin on his face.
I flush. “Sure, Stamford may come close to fitting the bill.” I lock down my racing mind feeding me images of us sharing a community, a home. He’s teasing, and that’s not anywhere close to what he’s thinking.
“C’mon, let’s go. The chicken you put in the crock pot before we left is calling my name.” He holds open the locker room door so I can catch up. I never want to make him wait for me again, if I can help it.
* * *
On Tuesday, we’re wrapping up for the night when pounding at the back door rings out again. Austin gets there first and greets the visitor. “Susie,” he says, without any surprise in his tone. Apparently, this is how she makes an entrance.
“Oh good, I caught you all before you left.” Her eyes bounce from me to Austin and back again. “They were able to clear the steps of the ice with some ice melt and help from the sun showing its face again today. You can go up and grab whatever you need now.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m getting by with the few things we grabbed the other night, but I’m anxious to check on my Santa suits. Plus, days without yoga and constantly in Austin’s presence have really given me the need to unwind.
“Oh no, I’m sorry, Brody. You can go grab your things, but you’re not going to be able to stay.” Susie misreads my reaction as expecting to get my space back. I try not to let more relief show at the prospect of more time with Austin. “Between the carpet and drywall damage and the time of year, I think it’s best if you plan not to be able to stay there again until your time with us as Santa is through.”
She looks at Austin expectantly, and I fight the urge to join her. I don’t want to put pressure on him he doesn’t need. “Let me know if I need to put out the call for another room or place to stay. I’m sure there are plenty of people willing to put up the Santa who’s done such wonderful things for all the children who have come to see him.” I bite back a laugh—subtlety is not Susie’s strong suit.
“No, it’s fine,” Austin says, quicker than I expected. “I’ve got the space, and Brody’s already set up there. It may not be the most comfortable bed in the world, but I think it’s okay.”
“Well, dear, you could always spring for a new mattress. How old is the one you’re sleeping on now?” Susie’s eyes glint with a devilish twinkle.
“What? No. We don’t share a mattress. It’s a pullout. In the guest room. I guess we could get a topper...” Austin trails off as he realizes he’s been got. I’m not successful at stifling a laugh this time, which turns his glare on me.
“In any case, I’m glad to hear Santa’s being well taken care of. You boys let me know if you need any help loading up Brody’s stuff. I’ll come to the bottom of the stairs and cheer you on.” And with far less fanfare than she entered with, Susie disappears back into the night.
“I guess we better go get changed and then go get your stuff,” Austin says.
“I guess so,” I say. Austin walks ahead of me toward the back door, and Jimmy sticks his hand out low for a high five as I walk past. I barely even feel bad about returning it.
* * *
Luckily, the pipe burst away from where most of my stuff is stored, so beyond everything having a bit of a damp feel, nothing is ruined. Some clothes may need a few spins through a hot water cycle to remove a faint smell of mildew, but with our day off tomorrow, I should have the time. I didn’t want to open the bags holding my suits in that environment, and my knee bounces nervously on the drive back from Holly Ridge, everything I brought with me piled in the back of Austin’s Bronco.
“Where did you find your suits? How did you learn how to take care of them?” Austin asks. I smile. First, because he’s doing a great job of skirting around asking me flat out how I ended up a professional Santa. And second, because I didn’t mention my anxiety around the state of the Santa suits, but he still figured it out.
“There are professional Santa schools in various places around the country—a big one in New York. They have a lot of resources for where to get quality materials, plus it’s a friendly community. For the most part, fellow Santas are more than willing to help.”
“Imagine that—people who play Santa being a welcoming and friendly bunch,” Austin says, his tone a little sarcastic.
