Page 3 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
And I realize I'm in serious trouble.
"Yeah," I hear myself say. "Let's talk about magic."
2
Dove
I'm losing this battle, and I know it.
Mia and Bentley are pressed against the suite windows, watching for their parents' car. They've been at this for twenty minutes, and my heart breaks each time one asks, "Are they here yet?"
"The roads are really slippery," I explain for the fourth time. "But they'll be here soon."
What I don't tell them is that their parents' "delayed flight" is actually a last-minute business dinner in Denver. Not for Christmas Eve. Not for their own children.
Mrs. Ashford's text from this morning still makes my jaw clench:Flight pushed to tomorrow morning. Handle the children. Deal is worth eight figures.
Eight figures. More important than Christmas morning.
"Miss Dove?" Mia's voice is small. "What if they don't come at all?"
Her innocence makes my heart hurt. "They'll come. But while we wait, we're going to have the most amazing Christmas Eve ever."
By afternoon, I've run out of indoor activities. The storm has calmed to gentle snowfall, and the lodge's lights are starting to twinkle.
"Miss Dove," Mia tugs my sweater, "can we see if there are more Christmas lights? I want to make sure Santa can find us."
I look at two pairs of hopeful eyes. The Ashfords would have a coronary, but the Ashfords aren't here.
"Bundle up. We're going on an adventure."
Twenty minutes later, we're trudging through snow toward the main lodge, following decorative lights strung between trees. The kids chatter excitedly about each display.
"Miss Dove, look!" Bentley points to a maintenance shed between pine trees. "There's no lights. Santa might not see it."
"You're right. We should investigate."
What we find when I push open the unlocked door is the most organized workshop I've ever seen. Tools in neat rows, labeled shelves, and hanging from a hook near the door – an enormous red velvet Santa suit.
"Santa's clothes!" Bentley whispers, awed.
"He must have left them here," Mia adds, reaching to touch the velvet reverently.
Footsteps crunch in snow behind us. I turn, expecting Helen.
Instead, I find myself face-to-face with Tannon McKenzie.
I'm so startled I take a step back, trip over a toolbox, and go down in a tangle of red velvet and embarrassment.
"Jesus, watch it," Tannon growls, but his hands are already reaching to help me up.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" I scramble to get untangled, mortified. "Are you hurt? Did I break anything?"
"The Santa suit!" Mia gasps. "You're really Santa!"
Tannon looks from the suit in my arms to the children staring with wonder, and his gruff expression softens.
"Not yet," he says gently. "But I will be tomorrow night."
