Page 6 of Dad Bod Secret Santa

I nod, watching the magic unfold through the window. It’s the kind of scene that makes you believe in Christmas again, even when you’ve stopped believing in so many other things. Romance has been the last thing on my mind since the divorce, but Hank sparks a desire in me that I thought was dead.

Hank is attentive, a great father to Vivian, and stable. And he’s as hot as hell. He’s always been quiet when we’ve seen each other in the past, and I’ve never been able to get a read on him. The more I learn, the closer I want to be to him.

Hank pulls over so the girls can get a better look at the final house, which is completely over the top. A giant Santa sits on the roof with a full set of reindeer. Somehow, the owner has rigged it so it looks like the reindeer are in the process of landing, with some of them still airborne. Wendy and Vivian squeal, pressing their faces against the glass.

“That’s the one!” Wendy says, pointing excitedly. “The Santa waves! See?”

If I could bottle this feeling, I’d never have a tough day in my life again.

“Thanks for doing this,” I say, reaching out and putting my hand on Hank’s arm while we wait at a stop sign.

He glances at me and flexes his arm. My core floods with heat, and my mind goes into overdrive, thinking about having sex with him.Whoa. Maggie.

“Of course,” he says, putting his hand lightly over mine. My heart pounds even faster.

“Dad, can we get hot chocolate? Pretty please?” Vivian asks, her question breaking our moment.

Hank glances at his daughter, who’s pointing at a stand across the street. He meets my eyes and tilts his head as if asking my opinion.

I grin. “I don’t have any objections.”

Hank pulls into a small lot next to a stand serving hot chocolate and hot apple cider. The scent of cinnamon and cocoa fills the air as soon as we step out of the truck, and the cold bites at my cheeks.

“Okay. What does everyone want?” Hank asks, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

The girls ask for hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and candy cane sprinkles.

“Cider would be perfect. Thanks,” I say when Hanks looks at me.

The girls stand talking next to the truck, and I rub my hands together as we approach the stand and get in line, wishing I’d brought my gloves.

As we stand by the makeshift fire pit near the stand, sipping our drinks, Wendy and Vivian stand off to the side, whispering and giggling.

I raise an eyebrow at Hank, nodding toward them. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

He shrugs, his eyes filled with patience and amusement. “With those two, it could be anything.”

I sip my cider, the warmth spreading through me as I steal another glance at Hank. He’s so different from Oliver. Burly and rugged, yes, but he has a gentleness in the way he talks to his daughter. He includes Wendy and me as if we’re already a fixture in Vivian and his lives.

Suddenly, Wendy and Vivian call out to us, their faces lit up with mischief. “Mom! Hank! Come here!”

Hank and I exchange a look, then chuckle. We toss our cups in a trash can as we make our way to where they’re now standing under a tree.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I ask my daughter.

The girls exchange gleeful looks, and Wendy points above where Hank and I are standing, her eyes wide with excitement. “You have to kiss!”

Hank inhales sharply, and my heart thumps as I process the situation. Hank and I look up, and sure enough, a huge bunch of mistletoe is hanging above our heads.

I glance at Hank, expecting him to brush it off, to laugh it away. But he doesn’t. Instead, I see a hunger in his eyes that matches the desire building inside me.

“Mistletoe rules,” Hank says softly, his voice low and gravelly.

Before I can protest, Hank closes the distance between us and takes me in his arms. His lips capture mine in a kiss so unexpected, so overwhelming, that the only thing I can do isfeel—and this feels better than anything in a long time. His firm lips press more forcefully against mine, and I lean into it, my hand instinctively reaching for his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his jacket. My knees go weak, and for a second, I think I might melt right here in the snow.

Suddenly, Hank pulls away, coughing, his eyes searching mine. I’m too stunned to speak, unable to form a complete sentence if my life depended on it.

The girls, oblivious to the intensity Hank and I just shared, squeal and clap, delighted by the spectacle they created.

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