Page 2 of Make You Mine This Christmas (Holly Ridge #2)

Brody

The boy on my lap is listing the fifth video game he wants for the new gaming console he’s asked for when a chill enters the room.

The door at the front of the workshop hasn’t opened.

It must be the back entrance and the elf they’re bringing to replace the reluctant stand-in who’s been here since we opened an hour ago.

She’s “only temporary” and “has to get back to the gym”—she only mentioned it about five times before we let the families start filing in.

“Ahem.” The noise comes from my knee, and I turn my full attention back on Carson Rose, age six.

“Sorry, Carson. I got a late start to Holly Ridge from the North Pole last night. Once you’re done telling me the rest of what you want for Christmas, I hope you can help me.”

Carson’s eyes go wide. “I’m done. How can I help?”

“Well, I could sure use a big hug and a promise you’ll be extra good for the rest of the year. It’ll give me a big boost of energy.”

“Sure!” Carson wraps his arms around me, and I sense rather than see his mom snapping a picture of the moment.

“Thanks for listening, Santa. My mom told me Santa’s budget is smaller than the new Switch, but I thought it doesn’t hurt to ask.

” I make eye contact with his mom and notice the dark circles under her eyes and the slightly worn nature of her coat.

A top rule of being a professional Santa? Never promise any major gifts.

“I think you’re going to have a great Christmas, Carson.

Be sure to tell your mom to stop by the Snowflake stand on the way out and grab yourselves some cookies, okay?

Make sure your mom asks for one with sprinkles on it.

” I make eye contact with his mom and see her nod, confusion clear on her face.

Part of what my Santa company brings to anywhere we do visits for the public are special “sprinkle” cookies for adults.

Those bags have a QR code inside they can scan and sign up to get some help during the holiday season.

Assistance can come in the form of a gift card for groceries, winter clothes, or a present under the tree.

It’s one of the things I’m most proud of about my business.

Carson runs off back to his mother. I take a sip of water before greeting the next child, my mind wandering to how I ended up here.

When the emergency Santa call came out for the Holly Ridge–Winterberry Glen Holiday Festival, I made sure the organizer, Blaire, didn’t have time to consider anyone else.

This means I’ve been awake for going on thirty hours, making arrangements to fill in the other bookings I had for the next several weeks.

I’m pretty sure my assistant Monica aged about five years with all the last-minute changes.

And then I had to get myself up here from New York City.

A small girl with brown skin and round brown eyes approaches me next.

I snap back into Santa mode and push aside thoughts of whether I’ll be able to make it over to Winterberry Glen tonight.

Farah is telling me about the kitten she’d like for Christmas when I feel it.

The weight of the gaze I’m not sure I deserve to feel again.

I look to my right, and there he is. He’s bulkier, and his brown hair is longer, curling over his forehead and above his ears from under his elf hat. He’s pale, like he’s seen a ghost.

Seeing him freezes me in place. I’ve imagined this moment so many times and in so many ways.

But I never picture me wearing this suit and him wearing bells on his shoes and striped leggings.

Blaire walks up to him and tugs on his arm, her face full of concern.

He lets her pull him behind the fake wall at my back.

Farah tugs on my beard, and I thank the Santa gods I perfected the art of whitening my real facial hair years ago.

I turn my attention back to her, cursing the terrible Santa I’m being today.

“Yes, Farah, I’m sorry. You were telling me about the kitten you want.

” I glance up at her mom, who nods her head and smiles, letting me know they’re all in on this particular wish. “What do you think you’ll name her?”

This sets off a list of name options, dependent on fur and eye color combos. I smile, nod, and do my Santa laugh at appropriate intervals. Farah gives me a hug and we pose for a photo before she runs off, regaling her parents with every reaction and smile I gave her.

Blaire walks up and addresses the crowd. “Santa needs a milk and cookie break, everyone. He’ll be back in five!” She gestures for me to follow her, and the temporary elf comes along too.

As soon as we’re hidden from view, Blaire turns to the other woman with us. “Lexie, I’m really sorry, but you’re going to need to stay here for the rest of the day.”

My heart sinks to my feet as I look around and realize Austin’s nowhere to be seen. He took one look at me and ran out on the elf gig? Why is he an elf anyway?

Lexie sputters, but the back door opening again interrupts her. Austin walks back into the workshop, his coloring returned to normal, and his expression schooled and neutral.

“Oh, Austin. I’m just telling Lexie she’ll need to—”

He cuts her off. “It’s okay, B. I told you, I only needed a minute. I’m good.”

My eyes bounce between the two, trying to figure out what Blaire knows about me.

I’ve never allowed myself to search for Austin online in all the years we’ve been apart until he popped up in a video on the festival’s social media account last year—as a professional Santa, my algorithm is very predictable.

From there, I’ve tried to limit the time I spend on his accounts, but there isn’t a lot for us Santas to do over the summer, leaving a lot of time to scroll.

Blaire started popping up on his accounts around five years ago, with and without his best friend, Cole. And Cole—he knows exactly who I am.

“Well, okay,” she says, her tone sounding unsure. “I meant to call a short break to introduce you two, but it seems you already know each other.”

Austin’s speaking before I’ve come close to imagining what to say. “Well, I wouldn’t say know each other, but yes, Brody and I have met.”

My eyes close briefly, flashes from ten years ago I’d locked away breaking free.

Austin and I laughing together, eating together, being together.

The welcome to Winterberry Glen sign in my rearview mirror as I drove away.

A deep inhale in, and my eyes open to find Austin watching me, his look of concern quickly morphing back into one of disinterest as soon as our gazes meet.

“Yes. We’ve met,” I say in return, not willing to look away first. The Christmas music and sounds of eager small voices filter in from the other side of the wall.

Austin’s blue-grey eyes see deep inside me and look through me all at once, before they blink and look back at Blaire.

I follow suit and see her looking between us, wringing her hands.

“I’m too sleep-deprived for this, so if you all are good for today, we’ll go with it. Brody, why don’t you get back out there? Lexie, you can give Austin a rundown of what he needs to know, and then I’ll meet you back in the gym.”

We all nod in agreement. I take a second to be sure my suit is straight and hat is appropriately jaunty before taking a deep breath and heading back to my chair and the waiting children.

I sit down, and a young Vietnamese boy steps up, next in line. Hands tucked behind his back, he keeps shooting furtive looks at me and then looking back down.

“Hi there. What’s your name?” My smile breaks wide across my face, doing my best to be approachable.

I lean on my leg to get close to his level, careful not to extend too much into his space.

The number of kids who start out excited about meeting Santa and then freeze up when it’s their turn has taught me a lot of tricks over the years.

“Quang,” he mumbles, his gaze meeting mine for longer this time before his cheeks redden and he looks back down.

“Hi, Quang. You can call me Nick, if you’d like.” He looks up in surprise, and I shoot him a wink. His face lights up with the special joy only experienced by children at Christmastime, and he steps closer to me, keeping eye contact as he stands next to my knee.

“Would you like to come up and sit on my knee to tell me what you’d like for Christmas? Or do you want to stay there?”

He nods and breaks into an elaborate description of the art set he’d like.

My gaze never strays from him, but I sense rather than see Austin come to stand next to me.

I find so much joy in playing Santa for all these kids who still believe in the magic of Christmas, and that’s enough to keep me engaged on a regular day.

But knowing Austin’s here now, and will see me in my element?

My energy levels rise, and I vow to be the best damn Santa he’s ever seen.

After we pose for photos, I turn back to the young boy clinging onto my red velvet pants. “Thanks for visiting me today, Quang. I hope you have a great Christmas. My friend Austin here will help you get back to your mom.”

Quang sticks his hand out for Austin to take, a different child than the shy one who approached me.

Austin reaches toward him, and a whiff of his spicy cologne follows as he crosses into my space for the first time today.

I watch for a moment, heart in my eyes and lead in my stomach as Quang regales Austin with the details of his art set too while they walk back to his mom.

A blond girl with long braids steps up onto the stool placed next to my chair to help them settle on my knee, and my attention returns to the task at hand—listening to these kids and giving them their special moment with Santa.

I even I direct Austin to help some of the older ones who could walk back to their parents on their own.

He never meets my eye, but the whiff of spices I get each time he comes close is too addicting to give up.

I catch him smiling and even hear him bark out a laugh before swallowing it when one little boy asks for an underwater trampoline.

We fall into a rhythm. Between visitors, a fleeting thought crosses my mind.

In all the dreams I had about Austin and me reuniting, I never considered a scenario of him being a part of this with me.

Even if I had, and even though he won’t look at me, I don’t know I could have come close to getting it right.

Austin Owens is the type of man to burrow deep inside you and, no matter how hard you try to dig him out, will always leave traces of himself behind.