Page 6 of Make You Mine This Christmas
We sit in silence for a few moments, eating dinner and looking at our phones. Fuck, I made it awkward when they didn’t even need to have me over in the first place.
“Fuck,” Blaire mutters, startling the rest of us, but luckily, no one starts crying and the adults laugh instead. “No one can take on extra shifts.”
Cole’s eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head ever so slightly. I shrug and he smiles, his head shaking fondly this time.
“What? I’m too tired to interpret whatever’s happening here,” Blaire says, no longer fazed that Cole and I can do the silent talking thing, too.
“I’ll take the elf job,” I say, picking up everyone’s plates and heading to the sink.
“Austin, no, I can’t let you.” She gets up and comes to stand next to me. I turn around, my back to the counter so I can see them both.
“You need someone to cover, I need steady income, and some closure might be nice. So I have to be around my ex six or so days a week for the next month. It won’t kill me.”
Blaire silently hands me Melody. She pats me on the shoulder, the way one might an animal who just ungracefully fell off a piece of furniture, before hip checking me out of the way so she can do the dishes, telling me she thinks it just might.
Chapter 4
Brody
Santa’s Workshop doesn’t open until noon on weekdays. That doesn’t mean I plan on sleeping in though. I often find it difficult to sleep my first night in a new place, so I expect to be up before the sun—a habit I’ve struggled to break even since I stopped practicing law. When my eyes crack open, the time on the microwave clock says it’s just after 8:00 a.m. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. 2:00 a.m. came and went with me still awake because I couldn’t stop thinking of the way Austin’s ass looked in those leggings. And, in a more depressing reality, the way his face hardened when he reminded me I walked away from him without looking back.
I stretch, and roll out of bed, wincing as my feet hit the cold floor. I add slippers to the mental list of things I’ll need to grab at some store, sometime. Middle of the night last-minute packing means some things are going to end up left behind. Unintentionally left behind and forgotten. The exact opposite of what I’ve done with Austin, despite my best intentions.
After taking a piss, swallowing my morning meds, and adding slippers to the actual list on my phone, I unroll my yoga mat. I logged into YouTube on the SmartTV last night and now see my favorite YouTube instructor uploaded a new Christmas-themed flow. The next thirty minutes pass in the blink of an eye as I center myself and get ready for the day ahead.
After the video wraps with one of the most peaceful versions ofO Christmas TreeI’ve ever heard, I roll up the mat and get ready to shower for the day. I started doing yoga in the months after I left the firm. Giving up my old gym routine was easy enough, but I like the way yoga keeps me moving my body in a more forgiving way and helps to quiet my thoughts. During the other ten months of the year, I alternate between the studio down the block from my house and more traditional videos. But during Santa season? Something about starting the day with a Christmas-themed routine really gets my jolly jumping.
Post-shower, I stand at the mirror wrapped in a towel. The hair coloring powder I use to turn my beard and hair an acceptable more salt-than-pepper combo sits on the sink. As I comb it through and let it set, I stare at the reflection looking back at me. Blue eyes, ready to twinkle. Relatively neat, trimmed beard being a Santa under forty lets me get away with. Round cheeks with a tendency to turn pink much easier than I would like.
My eyes trail downward, eyeing the dark chest hair I’ve stopped shaving. The darkening trail disappears under my towel, which no longer falls flat like it used to, but curves out with the flesh of my stomach. Acceptance of my body’s natural burly and stocky form came hand in hand with the work my therapist and I did to unwrap my guilt at leaving the career I worked so hard for, but found such little fulfillment in.
If Austin had been surprised when he saw me without my full suit on, he hid it well. My towel starts to rise a little more as I remember the heat in his eyes as he took me in, his gaze like a ghost of all the touches we shared before.
Shaking myself, I test the powder on my beard, which should be fully set by now. My hand comes back free of residue, which means I’m free to get dressed and get on with my day. Pulling on my clothes, I wonder how I’ll see Austin again. From my internet stalking, it looks like the place he’s been working at during the fall holds a bustling Christmas tree farm in the same location. Yesterday’s favor must have been on one of his days off.
Suit garment bag slung over my arm, I make my way carefully down the outside stairs leading from the studio apartment Blaire arranged for me to stay in. Apparently, one of the perks of staying in this particular location includes a daily allotment of coffee and pastries. Trying to get Austin off my mind last night led to a deep dive into their holiday festival-themed menu. I can’t wait to try most of the drinks on offer, so I can pick a favorite.
“Welcome to Jitters!” someone calls as I walk through the door, hit with a wall of warmth and the smells of fresh ground coffee and baked goods. This may ruin me for other Santa jobs.
“Brody!” Susie smiles at me from behind the counter. She met Blaire and me last night at the apartment and gave me the lay of the land while Blaire ran off to get home to something.
“Hi there, Susie. Tell me, which do you like better? The Eggnog Latte or the Gingerbread Macchiato?” Considering the products she stocks the bathroom with upstairs, I have a pretty good guess.
Susie doesn’t disappoint. “The Gingerbread Macchiato. Sometimes I make it for myself in July as a little pick-me-up.”
I smile, feeling a kindred spirit with a fellow Christmas lover. “I’ll take one of those, please, and a bacon and egg croissant.”
She gives my order to one of the runners and looks at me appraisingly.
“I feel like I’ve seen you around before.” My face must look as confused as I think it does, because she laughs. “Before last night, I mean.”
“Oh. I lived in Winterberry Glen for about eighteen months a decade ago.”
“Oh, and here I thought you only swung by every December twenty-fourth.” She winks at someone to my right, and I look down to see a young girl around seven studying me carefully. I give her a wink too, and put my finger to my mouth, indicating she should keep me being here a secret. My gaze returns to Susie to find her looking like she just ate a canary. “But thanks for confirming the rumors.”
These blasted cheeks of mine heat right on cue, and her smile softens. “It would have passed by unnoticed five years ago. But sincehe’sbest friends with the husband of one of Holly Ridge’s shining gems, he filters through the gossip mill more and more. Plus, the feud between the towns is mostly old news now. A wider whisper network.”
My cheeks burn even warmer. There’s no pretending I don’t know which “he” Susie’s referring to. My heart warms right along with them though, hearing how Holly Ridge regards Austin as such a staple around town, like Winterberry Glen does.
