Page 6 of My Secret Santa Mason

“Cami, this is Mason. Mason, this is Cami.” Rae introduced us, her voice a little too cheerful, like she was trying to defuse whatever bomb was sitting between us.

“Mason,” I repeated, extending a hand out of habit. He didn’t take it, just nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking over me briefly before settling somewhere over my shoulder.

Rude, but I couldn’t deny the electric charge that zipped through the air between us.

“Nice to meet you,” he grumbled, barely audible over the chatter around us.

“Likewise.” I dropped my hand, feeling the awkwardness settle between us. I splayed my hand open and pressed it against my thigh for a second. He had this way of looking right through me, as if he’d already sized me up and decided I wasn’t worth histime. But after he’d decided not to look at me, his eyes flicked back and locked on mine. Electricity ran down my spine. The intensity in his eyes made it impossible to look away and the world dimmed around.

“We’re so glad you’re doing this, Cami. It’s the talk of the town,” Rae said, and it snapped me back to reality.

I smiled at her. “I’m just happy everyone’s having a good time. It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to organize something like this.”

Mason’s eyes flicked to mine again, a brief flash of something I couldn’t quite read—curiosity, maybe? Disdain? Either way, it was gone before I could figure it out.

“Seems like a lot of fuss for some cheap presents,” he muttered dismissively, and I bristled.

“It’s not about the presents,” I said, holding his gaze this time, refusing to be intimidated. “It’s about bringing people together, making memories, sharing in the Christmas spirit, and showing each other how much we care.”

A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips, and for a second, I thought I saw a crack in his armor. “Memories, huh? Those can be dangerous things.Sharingdoesn’t always meancaring.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

There was something heavy in his words. He wasn’t just skeptical about Christmas, was he? He was skeptical about people. And that was sad. Before I could press further, Tanner clapped a hand on Mason’s shoulder.

“Come on, Bear. Lighten up. It’s a party, not a damn interrogation.”

Mason grunted in response, but he didn’t argue, letting Tanner steer him toward the booth they’d claimed. As they walked away, I watched Mason. Bear, as Tanner had called him. It was fitting. Every powerful stride, every subtle movement screamed control and restraint. He was a man who didn’t lethis guard down, ever. And maybe that’s what drew me to him because hell, I knew what that could be like.

It made me want to know more about him. What was he hiding from? What was he running from?

I snapped another picture, but my mind was on Mason. He was rough, rude, and more than a little intimidating, but there was something about him I couldn’t shake. He seemed like a puzzle that no one had been able to solve. And I’d always been a sucker for puzzles.

Betty stood at the front of the diner with a big, cheerful smile. She had her hands full with a large colorful Santa hat that brimmed with folded pieces of paper, each bearing the name of a participating town member.

Her husband, Sam, and daughter, Sandra, helped set up a small stage area with a festive backdrop of twinkling Christmas lights and garlands.

The diner was packed with townsfolk eagerly anticipating the drawing. The hum of conversations, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of coffee cups, created a lively atmosphere. Betty called for everyone’s attention by tapping a spoon against a coffee mug, and the room gradually quieted down.

“Alright, everyone,” Betty announced, her voice filled with warmth, “it’s time for the Secret Santa drawing!” She reached into the hat and pulled out the first name, holding it up for all to see. “Gregory Treeve, our esteemed mayor, will be our first participant.”

Gregory, a tall man in his sixties with salt-and-pepper hair, made his way to the front, his eyes twinkling with holiday cheer. Betty handed him the hat. The process continued, with each participant coming forward to draw a name, laughter and playful teasing accompanying each revelation.

Everyone who had signed up to participate drew names from the hat and smirked when they found out who they would be buying something special for.

I caught a couple of candid shots with my phone as they drew the names and a playful banter shot of those watching on. The atmosphere was warm and cheerful, with everyone in high spirits.

When we’d planned this event, there had been a lot more signups than we’d expected and it was going to be an exciting Secret Santa.

When all the participants were finally done, a ripple of excitement and conversation washed over the crowd, but Betty clapped to get everyone’s attention again.

“We have one more, ladies and gentlemen,” Betty called out.

There was a murmur in the crowd as people looked at each other. Everyone on the participation list had drawn a name. I couldn’t think of a name Betty might have missed—I’d been over the list myself a couple of times.

Who could it possibly be?

“Mason Thompson,” Betty said.

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