Page 12 of Daddy Christmas

He was right. The city had transformed into something quieter, softer. Storefronts glowed with golden light, their windows fogged from the warmth inside. Wreaths hung on doors, and garlands strung with tiny lights framed the edges of buildings. It all felt far away, like a dream I wasn't sure I wanted to wake from.

"Do you do this often?" I asked after a few minutes.

"Walks in the snow?"

"Take women to secret Christmas restaurants and then stroll them through winter wonderlands?"

"Only the special ones," he teased, glancing down at me. His eyes caught the light, bright and mischievous.

"Smooth," I muttered, but I couldn't help the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"In truth," he said with a sigh, “I don’t do this very often. Almost never.”

“Really?”

“Romance isn’t really the focus of my life.”

“No? What is?”

“Christmas, of course.”

Another eye roll.

“So what do you do for the rest of the year. You know, when you’re not wearing the big red suit.”

“There’s a lot to do. I take Christmas day off, of course, but then I start preparing for next year. My business is all focused around the holidays.”

“You run a store, or something?”

“Something like that.”

We walked in easy silence for a while after that, our footsteps muffled by the snow. I let my gaze wander—the way the snowflakes clung to the branches of trees, how the frost glittered along the edges of parked cars. Everything looked perfect.

"May I walk you home?" he asked after a while, his tone softer now, almost shy. His thumbs brushed over my gloves again, the motion hypnotic.

"Yeah," I managed, my voice coming out hoarse. "Yeah, okay."

The rest of the walk was quiet. Not awkward, just . . . quiet. Every now and then, he’d glance over at me, like he was checking to make sure I was still there. I kept my eyes forward most of the time, watching the snow pile up on the edges of the sidewalk, listening to the faint hum of traffic in the distance. When we finally reached my building, I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face him.

"Thank you for tonight.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made my chest ache in ways I wasn’t quite ready to admit. "The pleasure was all mine," he said, his voice low and warm. He lingered for a beat, his eyes searching mine like he wanted to say more. Then he turned, taking a step back toward the street.

"Wait," I said, the word slipping out before I could stop it. He paused, looking back at me, one brow raised in quiet curiosity. My heart hammered against my ribs, loud enough I was sure hecould hear it. "Do you want to come in? For, um, a nightcap or something?"

His expression shifted, just slightly. A flicker of surprise, followed by something else I couldn’t quite place. Warmth, maybe. Or hope. My palms started to sweat inside my gloves, and I clenched them into fists, trying to keep my nerves from showing.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his tone careful, measured.

"Yeah," I said quickly, before I could chicken out. "I mean, if you want to. No pressure or anything." God, why did I sound like such an idiot?

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he stepped closer, his boots crunching softly against the snow. "I’d like that," he said, his voice dipping low in a way that sent a shiver skittering down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Okay," I said, scrambling for my keys. My fingers fumbled with the lock, the metal slick and uncooperative in the icy air. He stayed close behind me, his presence steady and grounding, until the door finally clicked open. I pushed it wide, stepping aside to let him in. "Welcome to my humble abode," I joked weakly, trying to ignore the way my voice trembled.

"After you," he murmured, his eyes never straying from mine as he followed me inside.

I pushed the door shut with my hip, the soft click of the lock sliding into place louder than I’d expected in the quiet. He stood just a few feet away, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets, but his eyes were anything but casual. They followed me as I moved, like he was trying to read every unspoken word on my face.

---