Page 4 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
"We were looking for Christmas lights," Bentley explains. "For the dark building."
"Were you now?" Tannon takes the Santa suit from my arms, careful not to let it touch the ground. His hands brush mine in the transfer, and suddenly I'm very aware of how big they are. How rough with calluses. How different from the soft executive hands I'm used to dealing with.
I'm also noticing that there's no way in hell this man is fitting into that Santa suit without some serious alterations. The red velvet might stretch over those shoulders, but it's going to be... snug. Very snug. The kind of snug that will do absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he's built like he spends his days moving mountains.
"Santa doesn't need lights," he says, oblivious to my completely unprofessional thoughts. "He has special navigation."
"Like GPS?" Mia asks, fascinated.
"Something like that."
I brush snow off my jeans, trying to pull together some dignity. This is the second time today I've been soaking wet in front of this man. I'm starting to see a pattern.
"Sorry about breaking into your workshop," I say, gesturing at the organized space around us.
"Maintenance building. And it's fine."
"Tannon! There you are." Helen appears, looking relieved. "I've been looking everywhere. Oh, hello, Dove. What are you all doing out here?"
"Miss Dove was helping us look for Christmas lights," Mia explains. "And we found Santa's clothes! And Santa!"
Helen looks between Tannon and me, and I swear I see matchmaking in her eyes. "Perfect. Dove, meet your Santa. Tannon, meet the woman whose kids you'll be ho-ho-hoing for."
The woman whose kids.The phrase hits wrong, like it always does. These aren't my children, even though I love them like they are. Even though I'm the one here when they need comfort, who knows Mia likes her sandwiches cut diagonally and Bentley can't sleep without his elephant.
"They're not my kids," I say quietly.
Tannon's eyes find mine, and there's something understanding there. Like he knows what it's like to care about something you can't quite claim.
"But you're the one taking care of them," he says simply.
Something about the way he says it makes me want to cry.
"Miss Dove takes really good care of us," Mia says loyally, slipping her hand into mine. "She makes the best hot chocolate and knows all the good stories."
"And she doesn't get mad when I spill things," Bentley adds. "She just helps clean up."
I squeeze their hands, overwhelmed by their defense.
"Sounds like Miss Dove is pretty special," Tannon says, watching me with an expression I can't read.
"She is," Mia agrees. "Are you going to be a good Santa? Because Christmas is really important to us."
"I'll do my best," Tannon promises, and I can tell he means it.
The weight of expectation settles over us. I've spent the last year making promises to fill gaps left by absent parents.
"We should head back," I say, suddenly feeling the cold. "It's getting dark."
The lodge comes into view, warm light spilling from every window, and I realize tomorrow night's Christmas party just became more complicated than I expected.
Because now I'm not just worried about whether the kids will have a magical Christmas.
I'm worried about what happens when the magic ends.
And what happens to the feelings building between me and a mountain man.
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