Page 16 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
The question catches me off guard. "Isn't that enough?"
"For most women I'd say yes. But you..." He shakes his head. "You don't strike me as someone who'd marry a stranger just for money, even to save a house."
I consider deflecting but decide on honesty instead. "It’s not just a house to me. My mother's house is all I have left of her. Every corner holds a memory. Losing it would be like losing her all over again." I pause, searching for the right words. "But you're right. It's not just about the money. I'm also genuinely interested in your story. The journalist in me, I guess."
"So I'm a story to you?" His voice hardens.
"No," I say quickly. "You're a person. A father. Someone who seems to be fighting for his family. That resonates with me because I'm fighting for mine too, in a way."
Something in his expression softens slightly. "And the fact that I'm sixteen years older than you doesn't bother you? Or that I have a past that would make most people run in the opposite direction?"
"Age is just a number," I shrug. "And everyone has a past, Hudson. I care more about who you are now."
"You don't know who I am now."
"No, but I'd like to," I say simply.
Before he can respond, Lucy calls out, "Daddy! We're next!"
The moment breaks as Hudson turns his attention back to his daughters. I watch as he helps Lucy straighten her coatand smooths Angie's hair. Even Silvie allows him to adjust her hoodie before stepping up to Santa's throne.
The man playing Santa is convincingly jolly, with a real beard and twinkling eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He hoists Lucy onto his lap first, listening intently as she whispers her Christmas wishes in his ear.
Angie goes next, shyly handing over her carefully written list. Santa reads it, nodding seriously at each item before promising to do his best.
Silvie tries to skip her turn, but Santa beckons her forward. "Even big girls get Christmas wishes," he says kindly. After a moment's hesitation, she approaches and murmurs something too quiet for anyone else to hear. Santa's expression turns thoughtful, and he pats her hand gently.
"Now, how about a family photo?" the elf assistant suggests, gesturing to the professional camera setup.
"You all go ahead," I say quickly, stepping back.
"Nonsense!" Santa booms. "The whole family should be in the picture. Mom and Dad, too!"
"Oh, I'm not—" I start to correct him.
"She's not our mom," Silvie interrupts, her tone sharp.
"Not yet," Lucy stage-whispers, giggling.
Hudson looks mortified, but Santa recovers smoothly. "My mistake! But friends are welcome in Santa's photos too."
"Please, Violet?" Angie asks, her quiet voice somehow cutting through the awkwardness.
Hudson sighs, resigned. "One picture," he agrees. "If you don't mind," he adds to me.
"I'd be honored," I say honestly.
We arrange ourselves around Santa's chair—Hudson and me standing behind, the girls seated on and around Santa. When the photographer instructs us to move closer together, Hudson'sarm brushes against mine, sending that now-familiar electricity through my body. I swear I hear his breath catch.
"Smile!" the photographer calls.
Hudson's hand settles lightly on the small of my back, steadying me. It's a brief touch, gone almost as soon as it begins, but it leaves a burning imprint through my sweater.
After the photos are taken and the girls have received their candy canes, we make our way back to the lobby. I should say goodbye now, leave while things are still pleasant, but I'm reluctant to end the afternoon.
Lucy solves my dilemma for me. "Violet, are you coming over for dinner?" she asks innocently. "Daddy's making spaghetti. It's Angie's favorite."
"Lucy," Hudson warns, but his tone lacks conviction.
