Page 6 of Make You Mine This Christmas (Holly Ridge #2)

Austin

I’m not over it.

Day three of playing elf to Brody’s Santa dawns like most other days in New England this time of year: cold with low, grey clouds threatening snow.

Yesterday’s approach of pretending we have no history backfired on me.

Brody’s piercing blue eyes saw right through my bullshit.

Fortunately, once we got into the workshop, the crowds Blaire predicted kept us too busy to have much interaction outside of the kids visiting the North Pole.

Afterward, Brody and Jimmy posted up near the cookie station to talk more about his foundation’s work.

While they were distracted, I slipped out the back door and made it back to my car without encountering Brody again.

My shift is scheduled to start right before the workshop opens today.

After I hang up my coat and make my way around the false wall, I’m struck still by the energy of my fellow North Pole-ers.

The photographer is fluffing the snow around Brody’s throne.

Two of the elves on crowd control duty are hanging yet another strand of lights.

And Brody and Jimmy are back at the stand again, hunched together looking at the screen.

A quick glance around tells me everything’s under control.

I find myself drifting toward the pair and their computer.

The way Jimmy looks at Brody—that’s hero worship, right?

Brody has almost fifteen years on Jimmy, but who am I to judge?

The last woman I picked up at Peppers outside of the Ridge was probably at least that much older than me, but I’d never ask a lady her age outright.

“But if you migrate everything into an Airtable here, you’re able to join the records and filter for different views, which will make tracking a lot easier.

Plus, automations will save time with follow-ups and communication.

” Jimmy is demonstrating some sort of database on the screen while Brody looks on.

“That’s a really great idea, Jimmy. Would you have time to migrate us over in the next week or so? I can pay you outside of the festival’s rate, too.” Brody looks impressed.

“For sure. I can probably even get it done before we’re back on Thursday with the day off tomorrow.

” Santa’s Workshop closes every Wednesday to help ensure the staff actually get a day off.

“Oh hey, Mr. Austin,” Jimmy says, spotting me from where I lurk next to a lamppost wrapped in garland and surrounded by boxes of presents.

“Austin, hi,” Brody says, turning to face me, his eyes lighting up as they land on me. It starts to warm my insides. I need to shut that shit down real fast.

“Hi,” I say, trying to shove my hands in my pockets before I remember I’m wearing skin-tight leggings. I settle for crossing them instead. They both look at me, expecting me to continue, but I stay silent. The awkwardness grows.

“Well,” Brody clears his throat and looks at his watch, “going to hit the head once more before we open. We’ll talk more about your rate when we’re done?” He looks at Jimmy, who nods, before walking past us, getting stopped by the photographer wanting his feedback on something.

I look back at Jimmy to find him watching me. “So, what’s the deal there?”

“What? What deal? There’s no deal.” I sputter, making it so much worse.

Jimmy rolls his eyes at me. “Part of being good at fundraising is being able to read people and suss out connections and relationships. There’s a deal there. Plus, you looked like you wanted to squeeze my head like a gumdrop when you walked over.”

I gaze at him, assessing. The kid’s young, but I see the truth in his eyes as he continues to stare at me.

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, I’ll guess.

You guys have a history, right?” He holds up his fingers to tick off his points.

“Brody’s in the third year of his Santa business, and he graduated summa cum laude from NYU four years before that, so it must have been a decade ago.

” My mouth drops open, and he shrugs. “What? I googled him. Needed to make sure all this do-goodedness is legit before I get too invested. I’ve been tricked before.

” His eyes stray to the screen as he switches back to grilling me about my relationship with Brody.

“Must be pretty awkward, working this closely with an ex? Or did you guys part on good terms, you’re just still horny for him? ”

“Why did Brody start his Santa business?” I decide to answer his question with a question, not particularly interested in revealing any private parts of myself to this relative stranger.

Jimmy’s eyes shoot up to mine. “So not good terms, then. But still horny for him. I don’t know.

Even if I did . . . I think that’s something you should ask him yourself.

But maybe not right now.” He nods at something behind me, and I whirl around to find Brody walking back to us, coat fully buckled, black shoes shining, and hat jauntily sat on his head.

Brody’s face is contemplative, like he wants to ask me something that might upset me. A quick glance at his watch seems to tell him we don’t have time.

“Ready for another day?” he asks instead.

“I was born ready,” I say, wincing at my weak response.

Brody smirks, his eyes gaining an extra sparkle, telling me he agrees it’s not my best work. “Well then, Mr. Elf. Let’s make some days.”

I want to roll my eyes at his self-assuredness, but it’s always been a big part of what attracted me to Brody.

Never uncertain about his path or his future.

Maybe the possibility of stability and steadiness is what really appealed to me.

He knew what he wanted and wouldn’t let anything get in the way of those goals.

It turns out, not even someone he claimed to love.

The smile I flash at the first child off Brody’s lap turns forced as my thoughts go to a dark place. The beginning of an eight-hour shift is not the time to think about how easily Brody cast me aside. I need to be projecting joy and Christmas cheer, not despair and loneliness.

I force myself to push away those thoughts, instead brainstorming what other presents I should get for the twins. But as time passes, I find myself needing less distraction and instead listening to the conversations Brody’s having with the kids.

The festival attracts people from all over the tri-state area, but even locally, Holly Ridge and Winterberry Glen have diverse socioeconomic populations.

This means the requests made to Santa vary just as widely.

I know how hard my mom worked to hide any hardships from me.

But when Santa brought some kids mp3 players and brought me a lot of socks and underwear, plus a toy or two, it wasn’t hard to pick up on something being different.

The same is true of kids today, except some of these kids have a self-awareness and selflessness I didn’t possess at their age.

Alongside wishes for scooters and game systems are requests for new jobs for Mom or less time on the road for Dad.

Brody’s so good with them all, no difference in his reaction or expression if the kid’s acting their age or displaying an emotional maturity far beyond their years.

What is different is how he prompts those who ask for something outside of themselves to dig deep for a toy or game they want, too.

And the way their eyes shine when Santa sees right to the heart of them is priceless.

Once again, I find myself reflecting on what a natural Brody is at this.

He’s patient and kind and gives his full attention to every child.

This Brody is nothing like the paralegal destined for a prestigious law school and a long career in corporate law I knew.

Or at least thought I did. I never thought the Brody I knew would abandon everything we planned together either. What else did I get wrong back then?

Finally, the door closes behind the last family arguing about whether it’s too late to grab a cup of hot chocolate for the road.

Everyone starts to wrap things up for the night, moving with a speed indicating how much these folks need a day off.

I, only on day three, instead wonder if I can force myself to wake up in time to do some food deliveries before Cole and I take the girls for a Christmas present related photo shoot.

When I asked why he didn’t bring the girls to the festival to see Santa, Cole let me know with a straight face Blaire would kill him if he took the girls to see Santa for the first time without her.

A department store photo studio is a safe choice for the calendar gift he has in mind—twelve months of Christmas-themed photos.

Brody approaches me, the same pensive look on his face he had before we started, stopping all my schedule calculations. If the last eight hours of interacting with children didn’t make him forget his question, it may be better to get it over with.

“I’m surprised you took the job.”

Not a question after all. Whatever I expected him to say, it’s not that.

“Why? I told you. Blaire needed my help and I needed the work.”

“Well, because of me,” he continues, not looking convinced.

“Oh, you? You being here doesn’t bother me. I’m—”

“You’re over it. I heard.” Brody, still in full Santa gear, looks like someone took Rudolph out back and shot him. I don’t want to tell him the truth—I’m not sure I’ll ever be over it. But I do want to make the distraught look on his face go away.

“So, how does Santa spend a day off away from the North Pole?”

Brody recovers quickly. “There are a few things I need to get—I came up here so suddenly I left some essentials behind.” He looks down at his phone and sighs. “And looks like all the cars are busy. Wanted to go tonight, but I guess not. If I wait too much longer, I’m going to fall asleep.”

“I’ll take you.” The words leave my mouth before I can process having formed them.

“You’ll take me?”

“You really need to stop repeating what I’m saying,” I say, making sure my words have a teasing tone. I remember how seriously Brody can take things.

“Sorry.” His cheeks flush red, and I remember something else that attracted me to Brody.

His self-assuredness would be potent in its own, but mixed in with his humility and tendency to flush when he’s caught off-balance?

Christmas kryptonite. “You . . . you know taking me means you’ll be alone with me. In the car and in the store.”

“Well, I don’t think the store will be that dead, even at 9:00 p.m. It is the holiday shopping season after all.”

“But, you’ll take me. You’ll take me to the store?” His tone couldn’t be more surprised if he tried.

“Yeah, sure.” I shrug. “Like I said, I’m—”

“Over it.” Another voice cuts in from my left.

Like a bubble burst, Brody and I wear matching shocked expressions to find out we’re not alone yet.

Jimmy smirks my way, his look one that knows too much, before he softens his grin for Brody.

“Wanted to check a couple of database things with you before I took off, Mr. Santa. Sound okay?”

Brody looks at me with a question in his eye.

If I have time to think about it, will I take back my offer?

Maybe I should, but something in me—the self-destructive streak that’s always run far and wide in my life—is louder than my sanity.

“I’ll head back to the school now and get changed.

Make sure the Bronco is clean enough for such an important passenger. Plus, I’ll warm it up too.”

This time the flush reaches the whole way to Brody’s earlobes.

I’d bet my salary for the next week that the tips of his ears are red under his hat too.

I teased him all the time about being from the South and a big baby when it comes to the cold.

Maybe after a decade of life in New York City he’s finally used to it, but there’s something different about a New England chill.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon. And thanks.”

He snaps back into focus mode, looking at the screen Jimmy’s holding up for him.

I’m almost upset at how easily he’s able to brush off the fact that we’re about to be truly alone, without the chance of someone interrupting.

Self-destruction dialed up to eleven. But as I head to the door with a few of the other elves, I feel it—the heat of his gaze on my back.

Right before I shut the door firmly behind me, I look back.

And this time, when I catch his eyes on me, he doesn’t look away.