Page 62 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“Things are looking really good so far,” Chelsea says when I stop by to check on her and the kids. Maisie is half-asleep in a beanbag chair off to the side and partially hidden by a stack of soda boxes. “There’s been a steady flow of people, and they’re already about to empty the first round of donation boxes before they start moving around with them again.”

“That’s great; it means people are giving,” I say, delighted to hear things are going so well this early in the event.

Chelsea smiles enthusiastically. “And we’re not talking just five- and ten-dollar bills, either. I’ve seen a fair share of fifties and hundreds going in there. Cole almost fainted when the principal from Chesterton Elementary shoved five hundred bucks into his donation box.”

“How many boxes do we have going around?”

“Three,” Chelsea replies.

“You should get a fourth and have Callie walk around with it. She’s overdressed for the occasion, anyway. It will give her the opportunity to show off her flashy ensemble.”

She chuckles dryly, then worriedly looks over to Dakota, who’s busy serving several drinks at once. I love watching her work. She is so calm and entirely in her element working the bar. It’s as if she tunes everything and everybody else out, focusing solely on the tools and the ingredients needed to work her magic. Customers watch her with interest as she muddles limes and brown sugar, shaking and stirring, delivering one colorful mocktail after another.

“Things are not looking good for Dakota,” Chelsea says, letting a heavy sigh roll from her chest. “Generally speaking, that is. I understand you’re aware of what’s going on with the house and the inheritance.”

“Yeah, we’ve been brought up to speed.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“Not yet. We’re hoping tonight’s the night if you’d be willing to take Trevor and Maisie home with you. I’ll pay. Handsomely, I might add.”

She nods once. “They’re spent, anyway.”

Trevor is playing a handheld video game, tired from all the decorating work. At least he’ll sleep like a log tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him like this—exhausted but genuinely pleased. Maybe we can get him to do more volunteering over the holidays. It might do him some good.

Maisie’s eyes are about to close completely. She’s so sweet in her red and gold mini-tracksuit.

“Yeah, I’ll take them as long as you sort things out with Dakota,” Chelsea adds.

“We have every intention of doing precisely that, provided she lets us,” I say.

“She can be pigheaded sometimes, I know.”

“It comes from a good place. I mean, I get it. And I can’t blame her for it, either.”

Chelsea curses under her breath, looking somewhere to our left. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. She just won’t stop hounding you.”

I follow her gaze and see Callie approaching—again. She is relentless; I’ll give her that much. She’s playing the friendly and repentant half-sister while consistently sticking to me like a fucking parasite. I know her game. Too bad for her I’m an even better player.

“Chelsea, thank you for keeping the kids at your place tonight. I’ll handle the rest,” I say. “Oh, and can you see if you can get another donation box that Callie can walk around with? She needs to get off my back before I do or say something I might regret.”

“Can’t I just whack her over the head and tie her down somewhere out of sight?”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“Damn.”

I laugh lightly and move away, determined to get this show on the road. Darting past Callie, I make my way through the swelling crowd and proceed toward Dakota’s bar. Reed spots me, and he and Maddox cross the hall to meet me there. Glancing back, I see Callie watching me with a mixture of indignation and curiosity. Good. Let her watch.

The band has a few more minutes to go before they start playing, and that’s about how long I’ve got to make my play and shoot a few birds with one very expensive stone. I take the small velvet box out of my pocket and discreetly give it to Reed just as we gather next to Dakota’s bar.

“Ready?” I ask him.

“As I’ll ever be.” He gives me a frown. “Are you sure you don’t want to be the one to do this? It was your idea.”

“You’re the squeaky-clean and neighborhood-friendly one,” I reply. “Besides, it’ll throw Callie for a loop. We want that bitch as confused as she can possibly be until after Christmas if we’re going to make this work.”

Maddox smiles. “She will have questions.”

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