Page 9 of Mistletoe Face Off

“Please, call me Liam.”

“Okay, Liam.” I click on my recorder. “What have you been doing here this afternoon at the Hawksworth Community Center?”

He pulls his features into a more serious look. “Well, Holly, we've been here at the Community Center raising the spirits of underprivileged kids. We want to show them what Christmas is all about.”

“That’s super kind of you. Is Christmas all about hockey players chatting with pretty female fans?” I ask innocently. Okay, not so innocently. But in my defense, that’s exactly what he was doing.

He laughs. “That's just a perk of the job.” His features drop once more. “But what we're really here for is to show community spirit. We may be hockey players, but we have hearts. Big ones, and not just because we're big guys.”

I press my lips together to stop from laughing, because you know what they say about big guys? Big hearts.

Yeah, that's what they say.

I open my mouth to ask a follow up question—such as do hockey players have big gallbladders and livers as well—when someone switches on a microphone and it makes that ear-piercing screech over the speakers that cuts right through you.

“Oops. Sorry about that,” a middle-aged woman with short cropped hair, pink glasses, and a smiling face says into the microphone. “I'm not very good with these things.” She taps the microphone a few times, creating a loud thudding sound.

“She should not be doing that,” Liam says at my side.

“You got that right,” I reply, covering my ears with my hands.

Thankfully, she stops tapping the microphone, coming to the realization that it is in fact on, something the rest of us knew from the get go. “Isn’t this fun? I’m Daphne Albright and I run this community center here in Hawksworth. I know you've all been busy with face painting and cookie decorating and all the fantastic things we’ve got on offer here today, but I have an exciting announcement to make. Guess who's in the house?”

A bunch of kids yell an excited, “Santa!”

“That's right. Mr. Santa Claus himself pulled up on the roof with his reindeers only just this minute and he is dying to get in here and meet you all and hear what you want for Christmas. I wonder, have you been naughty or nice this year?”

A loud, high pitched cheer erupts around the room, with kids yelling that they’ve been nice. I throw Liam Carruthers a smile and thank him for talking with me before I make my way through the crowd to Macy. She's grinning and looking oh-so beautiful, with her blonde hair tied up in a bun at the nape of her neck, pink lipstick on her lips, and soft eye makeup. Margaret did a great job making her look, well, like a figure skater.

“Honey, you look so beautiful,” I tell her as I pull my phone from my purse and click on the camera so she can see herself.

“But Mommy, didn’t you hear? Santa’s here!” she exclaims, and I let out a laugh. My daughter is the sweetest soul I've ever known, and she loves all things Christmas. “Can I go see him? Please? Can I?”

“Of course you can,” I say and catch Margaret beaming at me.

“She’s a sweetie, this one,” she says.

I open my mouth to reply when another voice booms over the sound system.

“Hello, children. I’ve come all the way from the North Pole just to see you all!”

I look over at a guy dressed as Santa, his rotund belly encased in his red suit and a large black belt, a sack held over one shoulder. Of course I know what’s hidden beneath the suit is an impressive set of abs, but I’m not about to shatter my daughter’s glee with the truth.

He’s tall, rivalling any of the hockey pros in the place, and he’s really pulling this whole Santa vibe off, ho ho ho-ing as the kids gaze up at him with broad smiles.

I thank Margaret for the wonderful job and we join the throngs surrounding Santa. I snap a few shots of him talking with the kids as he hands out candy canes, noticing how great he is with them. Whoever this guy is, they sure chose him well for the role.

Finally, it's Macy's turn.

“And who have we got here?” Santa says in his deep, booming voice.

“My name is Macy,” she says carefully.

“Well, hello Macy. I'm very pleased to meet you.” Santa’s eyes shift to mine and I smile at him, noticing that his eyes are an attractive shade of green.

Not that I'm going to go getting ideas about me and Santa. Or rather the hot guy playing Santa. It’s hard enough being a single, working mom without throwing Santa’s girlfriend into the mix.

“Are you Macy’s mom?” he asks me.

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