Page 3 of Make You Mine This Christmas (Holly Ridge #2)

Austin

If I’m being honest, I expected my time as an elf to crawl by. When I found out the festival’s new Santa was none other than Brody—crusher of hearts and dreams—those four hours should have moved like molasses.

But instead, the time flies by. I’m careful to avoid Brody’s eyes, not wanting him to catch any of my tangled emotions at his being the new Santa, being here.

I have to admit it, he’s a fucking fantastic Santa Claus.

How the hell he went from his dreams of being a high-powered litigator to this, I have no idea.

It’s killing me not knowing this about him, but I won’t allow myself to ask.

It’s a lot safer if I don’t allow myself to know anything about who he is now.

One of the other elves in the workshop shuts the door behind the last family, sliding the deadbolt firmly in place.

Suddenly, the space that’s been full of dozens of people all day feels too small for the two of us to share.

I look around, not sure what my role is in cleaning anything up.

No one’s paying me any attention, not even Brody, who’s speaking with the elf behind the cookie and photo counter.

I take it as my opportunity to slip out undetected, removing my jingle shoes as quietly as possible and sneaking out the back door.

It’s dark outside. The lights decorating the festival market stalls twinkle in the cold air with scents of mulled wine and roasted nuts drifting over from across the way.

But there’s no time to be distracted by Christmas goodness.

I speed walk the distance across the town square to the gym, throwing up a prayer to whoever might be listening I can get changed and out of here before Brody makes his way to the locker room.

No such luck. I have my flannel shirt back on, but I pull down the leggings and long johns right as the door to the locker room opens and Brody makes his way inside, all five feet, eleven inches of him, encased in red velvet.

His eyes dart immediately to the part of my body now only covered by my candy-cane-striped boxer briefs.

I fight the urge to cover myself, cursing I didn’t get my pants on faster.

He looks away, his cheeks growing a darker pink under the edges of his beard.

My own face heats, and I roll my eyes at myself internally.

It’s a locker room, and while it’s been a decade, the man who just walked in has seen all of me in much less than what I’m wearing now.

I turn my back on Brody, thanking my trainer and his relentless focus on squats.

I know that has my ass looking plump. I manage to take my leggings the rest of the way off and step into my jeans.

“Ahem.” Brody clears his throat once I have pants back in place. It seems I’m not getting out of here without some sort of interaction, so it’s time to face the music.

After I grab my coat and jam my feet back into my shoes, I can’t delay any longer.

I gather up my costume and face his direction.

It’s my turn to take in the parts of Brody’s body he’s uncovered as he de-Santifies himself.

He’s removed the coat and pillow popping out of his bowl-full-of-jelly belly, resting them both on the bench next to him.

But my eyes trace a rounder stomach than he had the last time I saw him, reminiscent of the photos he showed me of an adolescent Brody.

By the time I met him, he had his eyes set on corporate law and held tightly to the notion that a certain type of physique would best serve him to get there.

Even now, when my gym time is at an all-time high to fill the empty holes in my schedule, it doesn’t match what Brody would wake up at 4:30 a.m. to do most days.

My hand twitches, longing to stroke the soft curve of his stomach, the magnetic draw between us still as strong now as ten years ago. I give myself an internal shake. The times when I got to touch Brody however I wanted are long gone.

He clears his throat again, and I wonder how long I’ve been standing here silent, taking him in. Whatever he intended to say after his initial attention-getting seems long gone.

“So, hi,” he says. My eyes do roll now. Ten years and “So, hi,” is what he goes with? I walk toward him, the bells on the shoes stuffed under my arm jingling with each step I take.

“What are you doing here, Brody?” The elf hat I only now realized I’m still wearing, along with the jingling bells probably undercut the impassive expression I’m trying to keep on my face, like the sight of him after all this time doesn’t gut me.

“I’m . . . I’m here to fill-in for the festival’s Santa.” For someone who argues for a living, Brody looks off-balance at the venom in my voice. Or is it argued? He can’t still be at a firm if he’s here to be Santa for the rest of the festival.

“There have to be a million Santa openings across the Northeast this time of year. Pick one, and leave without looking back. You’re good at that,” I say.

Brody’s shoulders roll back. Even through my anger and hurt at seeing him, I have to admit the determined look works on Santa’s— well at least on Santa Brody’s—face.

“But no other Santa job brings me back to you.”

The force of his words collides with me like a physical thing, and I take a step backward. I open my mouth searching for something to say. Coming up empty, I do what I should have done as soon as I changed. I head for the door.

“Austin, wai—”

The door swinging shut behind me cuts off his words. I take a few deep breaths, counting on the fact he won’t follow until he’s out of his suit. By then, I plan to be long gone.

I spot Blaire across the gym. Dropping my costume in the laundry cart, I make my way to her.

“Austin, I’m so sorry. I had no idea Brody was the guy.”

I wince. “Talked to Cole, have you?”

She nods, not even bothering to look ashamed. And it’s fine, really, I would have told her if Cole didn’t. She deserves to know why I almost bailed on her this afternoon.

“Why don’t you head over to the house for dinner and twin snuggles?”

I start to protest. The last thing they need to do is pick up my pieces when they’re still figuring out how they all fit together as a family of four.

She holds up her hand to interrupt me. “Cole insists, and so do I. Plus, it’s been what, a week since you’ve seen the girls?

They’ve grown inches and inches, I swear.

” Her eyes flick behind me, and whatever she sees inspires her “no arguments” face.

“I have to walk Brody over to the apartment above Jitters, and he’s about to head this way.

So you can either stand here and argue with me, or you can get your ass moving, Owens. ”

I nod, knowing a lost cause when I see one. “Okay, I’ll see you at your place in a little bit.”

She squeezes my arm, and I walk out of the gym, fighting myself all the way not to look back.

* * *

I let myself into Cole and Blaire’s house only a few blocks away from Holly Ridge.

I learned the hard way not to let myself in unannounced after they bought this place and moved in, but also learned the harder way that ringing the doorbell and announcing myself when it’s possible one or both babies is sleeping risks banishment.

“Honey, I’m home,” I whisper, walking carefully into the living room.

Cole is dozing in the armchair, and I tiptoe toward the double bassinet next to him.

Cassidy and Melody are both miraculously asleep at the same time.

I leave them all to their snoozing and head to the kitchen.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge and taking a long drag from the glass bottle, I roll up my sleeves and get started on the world’s quietest dishwasher emptying.

“You don’t have to do that,” Cole says, and I jump, nearly dropping the plate in my hand. The relieved look on his face tells me everything I need to know about how the day went.

“I’m not sure when three people last slept at the same time in this house, so I didn’t want to disturb you. Plus, apparently, you’re feeding me tonight. Figure I can earn my keep.”

Cole doesn’t argue, and I put the last of the silverware away while he grabs a beer of his own from the fridge.

He jerks his head for me to follow him through the dining room and into his office.

I smirk when I spot a small Christmas tree has been put up since I last came in here.

Cole plops into one of the armchairs next to the fireplace and puts his beer and the baby monitor on the table between us.

“So, how are you?”

“I’m jingle-riffic. Why would you ask?” My own flop into the chair is too heavy to hide my lie, not that Cole would believe me anyway. He levels me with a look, and I take another sip for bravery.

“Of all the things on my list of possibilities to happen today, Brody Walker being here wasn’t one of them,” I say, reclining my head so I’m staring at the orbs cast on the ceiling by the tree lights.

“I mean, you haven’t heard from him in what, ten years?”

“Nine years, five months, and twenty-four days.” I roll my neck so I’m looking at Cole again, his expression exactly what I expected. A mix of pity and reproach. “What? He left on the first of the month. It’s not that hard to keep count.”

“We’ll blow right past that for now,” he continues. “Why did you stick around? Blaire said she thought you bailed for a minute—she wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”

I shrug. “I knew if you called to recruit me to help, Blaire was in a real bind. Plus, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. I mean, he probably still knows, but this way he doesn’t have me running away as proof. Besides, he’s the runner, not me.”

We sit in the quiet for a moment, a coo from one of the girls lighting up the monitor the only thing breaking the silence.

“So, he’s here for the rest of the—”

“Yep,” I say, draining the rest of the bottle. “I’m going to need another one of these. Can I get you one?”