Page 40 of Tied Up In Tinsel
Annie
Ruby looked too damn cute.
Her wild curls spilled out beneath a Santa hat, and her matching red dress and striped tights made her look like one of Santa’s own elves. She was practically glowing with excitement, her energy contagious in the warm, pine-scented lodge.
Me? I’d gone simple—red sweater, jeans, and my snow boots. Festive enough to blend in, functional enough to sprint upstairs and get back to work if I needed to.
And Brooks?
Well, Brooks looked like every Christmas wish I’d never dared to put on a list.
He wore a flannel that fit him in all the right ways, jeans that clung to him like a sin, and of course, his scuffed cowboy boots that somehow made the whole look even more unfair. He’d even taken the time to wet his hair and slick it back, though one rebellious strand had fallen across his brow.
That single strand nearly undid me. My ovaries practically sang at the sight of it, begging me to reach out, twirl it around my finger, and tug him down to me.
But not here. Not in line for Santa Claus. That would be wildly inappropriate, even for me.
Ruby bounced on her toes in front of us, so thrilled she looked like she might levitate. Her mittened hands clapped together as the line shifted forward.
At least the photos were being taken inside the lodge. It meant I could justify being here as work, even though in truth I should’ve been elbow-deep in prep upstairs. The holiday event was only days away, and the pressure was mounting like snow on the roof.
“She’s awfully excited, isn’t she?” Brooks leaned close, his voice low and edged with amusement, warm enough to tickle across my skin.
“Oh yeah,” I replied, fighting a smile. “We do this every year, and she insists on wearing the same outfit every single time. This is her Eras Tour.”
“Her what?” Brooks blinked, brows furrowing like I’d just spoken another language.
“Never mind,” I said quickly, swatting lightly at his chest. His flannel was softer than it had any right to be.
Ahead of us, the family at the front finished their photos, and Ruby nearly squealed herself faint when she realized it was finally her turn. She threw her little fists in the air in victory before spinning back to me, wide-eyed and determined.
“Mom, I need my list.”
She held out her tiny hands like she was about to be handed the Holy Grail.
I dug into my purse and pulled out the folded piece of paper she’d spent hours perfecting last night. Crayon doodles framed the edges, and the list itself was a colorful riot of dreams: dolls, glitter pens, a pink bike, a puppy.
She’d clutched that list so tight I had to pry it from her fingers just to keep it safe. Really, it was my excuse to snap a photo and sneak in a little late-night online shopping. A few of the surprises would be waiting under the tree, even if Santa got all the credit.
Ruby snatched it up, holding it to her chest like it was priceless, then practically skipped her way toward Santa’s chair as the elf assistant beckoned her forward.
I exhaled a laugh, shaking my head, and felt Brooks’ gaze on me instead of Ruby.
“Guess she got that determination from her mom,” he murmured.
I glanced up at him, cheeks warming at the way he looked at me.
And just like that, the room felt smaller, quieter, though the lodge was buzzing with chatter, laughter, and Christmas music.
Ruby marched up to Santa with her crayon-scribbled list clutched in her mittened hands like it was top-secret intelligence. She stopped just shy of his boots, staring up at him with wide, reverent eyes.
“Ho ho ho!” Santa bellowed, his belly shaking just the way it was supposed to. “And who do we have here?”
“Ruby,” she announced proudly, thrusting her list up toward him. “I’ve beenverygood this year.”
I bit back a laugh as Santa winked at me. He took the paper solemnly, holding it as though it were an official document from the North Pole itself.
“Well, Ruby, I’ll have to double-check my list,” he said, peering down at her. “But I believe you. You’ve got that sparkle about you.”
