Page 4 of Dad Bod Secret Santa

“We’re doing real good this year. Waylon’s idea about running a Christmas tree farm was great. All the profits are going to Warrior Cares.”

We all know about Warrior Cares and the men who’ve gone through the programs there. I’m lucky because I got out of the Army with fewer ghosts than many of the men I served with.

“That’s good,” I say, meaning it. “They do a lot of good for vets. I’m glad Waylon made the call to do this.”

I nod, and we get back to work helping families pick a tree and secure it to their cars. I’m usually working with wood all day, either in construction or the occasional carving project, but participating in something like this, where I see the families and the looks of joy when kids see the trees? It cracks open feelings in me that make me want that kind of family again. Make mewant a partner to share things with, and especially to build richer memories around the holidays.

It’s around five when I finally call it a day and hand things over to Ace, the sun already setting behind the ridge. Maggie volunteered to pick up both girls after school, so I don’t need to get home right away—but I want to.

I pack up my gear, wave goodbye to Jax and Ace, and head toward my truck. The drive back up to the cabin is quiet, the snow falling heavier now. But my mind is anything but quiet. I’m not sure how I feel about Maggie and her daughter being at the cabin for the next few days, given how much I’ve longed for Maggie over the years, but I’m not going to say no to someone in need, especially Maggie and her daughter.

Still, knowing that Maggie is under my roof makes my stomach do strange flips. A voice in my head suggests I’d have a chance with her, but no way am I going to be like some assholes I’ve known who expect a woman to put out because I did something for them. I’m a better man than that.

When I finally pull up to the cabin, the lights inside glow warm and inviting. I see Maggie and our girls through the window, laughing and clearly in the middle of something. The sight of the three of them makes me pause. I always wanted a larger family, but after Vivian’s mom left, I never thought that’d happen for me. But seeing what it might look like? Damn, if it doesn’t rekindle that desire with a sudden ferocity that surprises me.

I push open the door, brushing the snow off my boots as I step inside. My mouth immediately waters, and my stomach growls as a delicious aroma hits my nostrils.

“Hey, you’re back!” Maggie’s voice comes from the kitchen.

I glance over to see her standing with Vivian and Wendy, both stirring a pot on the stove.

Maggie wipes her hands on a dish towel, looking at me with a soft smile. “I hope you don’t mind. I figured we'd make dinner since you’ve been out all day.”

I blink, caught off guard. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she says, her eyes meeting and holding mine. “I wanted to. It was the least I could do with you opening your home to us.”

I look around the kitchen at the food they’re making and experience an emotion I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s not the aroma of dinner or someone else taking care of things for once. No, it’s the sense of family.

I clear my throat, trying to shake off the feeling. “Well, thank you. It was unnecessary, but it is appreciated. It smells amazing.”

Vivian grins at me, clearly pleased with herself. “We made spaghetti.”

The girls talk a mile a minute as they dump a large box of pasta into a pot of boiling water. Maggie moves around the kitchen with ease, setting the table and ensuring everything’s in place. I find myself watching her out of the corner of my eye, admiring the way she moves and how she interacts with the girls.

It’s strange but in the best way. Maggie catches my eye and smiles, and somehow, it’s like this isn’t the first time we’ve done this.

After dinner, as we clean up, the girls talk about the Christmas lights in the neighborhood down in Jefferson. There’s a whole display that people drive through every year, with lights timed to Christmas music. I’ve heard about it, but Vivian has never asked to go before.

“We have to go!” Wendy insists, her eyes wide with excitement. “It’s tradition! Mom and I go every year.”

Vivian nods along, just as excited. “Please, Dad? Can we go? It’s not that far away.”

I glance at Maggie, who looks at Wendy with a raised eyebrow and an indulgent smile. We exchange a look, knowing that if we say no, we’ll never hear the end of it.

“I don’t know—”

“Please?” Wendy pleads, drawing the word into several syllables.

Maggie looks at me again, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I don’t think we can say no.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Looks that way.” I turn to the girls. “Alright. We can go.”

They cheer, running off to get their coats and scarves, leaving Maggie and me alone in the kitchen.

She looks up at me, her smile soft. “Thanks for agreeing. I know it’s a lot.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Honestly, it’s fine. You know the way, right?”

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