Page 83 of Flirting With Forever
Gage frowned but noted only Santa was close enough to hear their conversation. “Santa knows what I want.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Santa knows everything,” the little girl said in a solemn, too-serious voice.
Santa lifted a hand and lightly touched the red tip of his nose, nodding but not saying a word.
“I guess we’ll find out tonight if we get our wishes then, huh?” Gage said to the little girl. “Until then, you got a parent around here?”
She pointed over at Bruce. “Grandpa.”
“Okay then. You go get your grandpa, and I’ll go get to work. I’ve got a lot to do today.”
“Will you tell me your wish first?”
“You tell me yours,” he countered.
“I want a bike with no training wheels. What do you want?”
“Merida,” he said, trying to keep it simple because revealing his Christmas wish just felt…awkward. “Right here. Tonight.”
“What’s a Merida?”
Gage shook his head, a sad smile barely able to tug his lips up. “Now that’s a secret. I’ve gotta go, munchkin. I hope you get your bike.”
Gage worked the next few hours until the sun sank behind the river, and it was pitch dark, even though it was barely six-thirty. He’d told Cole to take the day off and spend it with his wife and stepson, then spent the afternoon restocking a few shelves and doing general cleanup. The schedule was extremely light over the next week, with only a few items on the calendar.
He could’ve closed up and gone home, but the townhouse was cold and empty. A shell of what it had been with Sloane inside doing her thing and organizing his chaos or just snuggling up and laughing at some quip in a movie.
He’d never considered himself lonely, but now he saw the difference in his old life and the one he’d lived with Sloane.
His phone chimed the same time as the computer, indicating someone was at the back entrance of the building. He headed toward the counter to check the screen, heart rate picking up speed at the force of the hope blooming inside him before he could shut it down.
She wasn’t coming back. He’d told himself so again and again, so as to not suffer more pain when Christmas came and went and she didn’t return to Carolina Cove.
He blinked at the image on the screen. It wasn’t Sloane or some drunk. It was the scrawny Santa from this morning.
Santa—who currently jiggled the door handle like he was trying to break in. Gage saw red. His disappointment combined with his heartache and was quickly fueled by rage as he stalked into the back and quickly turned the locks to yank open the door. He had Santa’s coat in his fist in a second flat and turned to press the skinny guy up against the plain gray space where the starfish used to be, a sight that tipped the scales even more. “What do you think you’re?—”
“Merry Christmas.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Growing up, Sloane had a friend in prep school who said her family was so combative that if punches weren’t thrown over the holidays, it wasn’t really a holiday.
Gage’s anger vibrated off him, so tangible she imagined she could see it as a cloud around him.
“Sloane?”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a gasp. “I was going to tell you earlier today when I saw you, but then that little girl walked up, and you said what you did, and I know it’s silly now, but I got this stupid idea to wait a little longer and surprise you and— Bad idea?”
“Sloane.”
His mouth slanted across hers. A kiss born of fear and fury, gratefulness and relief. When he finally let her up for air, she smiled at him, knowing she looked ridiculous in the borrowed Santa suit. “You’re still mad at me if you’re calling me Sloane,” she said, hearing the huskiness in her voice.
Gage huffed softly and gently but firmly snagged the hat and beard off in one motion.
“I am mad at you, but mostly because I just kissed Santa, and if my brothers see the camera footage, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Her laughter rang out and echoed off the wall behind her, and her eyes sparkled with a light that shown from within.
