Page 14 of The Santa of the Mountain

I stare at it again. And then up at her. Have I fallen for a Christmas fanatic? Looks like it, but the truth is I don’t care. I’d make gingerbread houses, bake sugar cookies, trim trees, sing Christmas carols, or watch marathons ofLove Actuallyif it means she’s my girl.

She snorts. “That’s what made it angry. On the bright side, it kept me warm.”

I swallow. Maybe she’s not a Christmas fanatic. Maybe… “I could burn it if you’d like.”

“You mean Santa Claus would be okay with destroying something with this much Christmas spirit?”

“Santa?”

She makes a face and then smiles. That smile will be the death of me, but I need more of it in my life. I need it every second of every day. I’ve only seen it twice but I’m addicted.

“Have you looked in the mirror?” She brushes my beard with her fingertips.

My mind blanks as blood rushes out of my head and into another. Never thought a soft touch like that would drive me wild, but I have a feeling there’s nothing about this girl that wouldn’t elicit the same reaction.

“You’re wearing the suit too.”

I glance down and she’s right. Shit, I didn’t even change after I got home. I reach for my head and the damn Santa cap is still on it. Maybe I bumped my head a little harder than I thought. I’d gotten the all-clear from the paramedics and even finished out my last stint as Santa.

“Forgot to take off the costume,” I say, moving on to the next boot.

“D-do you normally dress like Santa Claus?”

I glance up and she’s nervous. Scared, even. I don’t blame her. Running into a man dressed like Santa Claus in a remote cabin is nightmare fuel.

“No,” I mutter, removing her last boot and setting it aside. “It’s a family tradition. This was my first year. I take turns with my brothers. Drew the short candy cane this year.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, still uncertain. And then there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Were you the Santa from earlier? In the park?”

I nod. She remembers. My girl remembers me. Did she feel the same way? Like she was drawn to me through some invisible rope, tugging and guiding her to me.

“You hit your head pretty hard.”

Shit. Guess not.

I swallow. “Good thing I have a thick skull.”

It garners another smile, and I feel a little better. No matter if she doesn’t feel the same way. Give me a few days and she’ll come around. She may not know it now, but we belong together.

She shivers and my pulse races. “Let’s get you out of these pants. Afraid your replacements might not fit, but they’ll be warm.”

“I don’t mind.”

I offer my hand and she grabs it. “You’re warming up,” I say, pulling her from the chair.

She stumbles and I wrap my arms around her reflexively, pulling her against me. She feels like a dream against my body.

She clears her throat, and then says, “Yup.”

I breathe her in one last time and then sigh, letting her go. “This way,” I rasp, turning on my heel and guiding her to my bedroom.

“Think some sweats might be the best bet. I’ve got some sweaters that might work.” I glance back at her, smiling as she stands in the doorway watching me. “Afraid they’re not as festive.”

“I could go for something not festive.”

“Then I’m your guy,” I say, turning to my closet.

In more ways than one.

---