Page 19 of Falling for Santa

His words settled over her like a warm blanket. For the first time, Megan felt a glimmer of hope—not just in her ability tokeep moving forward, but in the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she could build something meaningful here.

“Thanks, Scott,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Anytime,” he replied, tipping his Santa hat with a playful flourish. “And if Cupid tries another escape, you know who to call.”

Megan laughed as he headed back toward his chair, the sound surprising even her. For the first time since she’d arrived on Palmar Island, she felt a little lighter.

There was something about Scott—his warmth, his sincerity—that made her feel a little less alone in all of this. While she wasn’t ready to let her walls down completely, she couldn’t deny the way he made her laugh, or how his words had eased the weight she carried, if only for a moment.

Chapter Eight

Scott couldn’t get Megan out of his mind. Not in the way he imagined a man might lose sleep over someone they were falling for, though that thought wasn’t far off, but because she was simply unforgettable. The way she’d handled Cupid’s escape—with more determination than experience and more humor than frustration—had stuck with him. She’d been flustered and worn out, but she never let it show to the kids, managing to keep their day magical despite the chaos.

It wasn’t just that moment, though. Over the past few weekends, Scott had noticed the little things about Megan: the way she always crouched to meet a child’s eye level, her gentle patience when they cried over spilled glitter or a crooked craft, and the quiet way she carried the weight of single motherhood without complaint. He admired her resilience, even if she didn’t seem to realize how strong she was.

And maybe, he admitted to himself as he adjusted his Santa hat in the mirror of the staff shed, he just wanted to know her better.

The Village had settled into its late afternoon lull. Most of the kids who’d come with the school group earlier had left, leaving only a handful of families wandering between the activities.Scott scanned the area as he stepped outside, his gaze naturally gravitating toward the crafts table.

There she was. Megan stood with a child, leaning slightly over the table as she helped glue a star-shaped decoration onto an ornament. Her long brown hair was swept into a messy bun, and a faint streak of glitter dusted her cheek, catching the light every time she moved. The child giggled as Megan said something Scott couldn’t hear, her tone light and playful.

He smiled to himself. She was good with kids—better than she gave herself credit for—and that kindness drew him in more than anything.

Steeling himself, Scott walked toward the crafts table, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. Megan didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the task at hand. He took a moment to appreciate her focus before leaning casually against the edge of the table.

“Hey, Elf Megan,” he said with an easy grin. “How about a break?”

Megan glanced up, startled for a moment before her expression softened. “Scott,” she said, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Is Santa done wrangling reindeer for the day?”

“For now,” he said with mock seriousness, folding his arms. “But I’m here on a different mission.”

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Scott’s grin widened as Megan tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. “Let me take you to lunch.”

“You really don’t have to do that, you know,” she said, brushing a piece of glitter off her sleeve.

“I know,” Scott replied, his voice warm. “But I want to. You’ve been putting in so much effort—wrangling kids, handling Cupid, and keeping this place running. It’s the least I can do to say thank you.”

Megan hesitated, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of the crafts table. “Lunch, huh?”

“Lunch,” Scott confirmed. “At Mary’s Diner. Ever been?”

Megan shook her head. “I’ve passed it, but I haven’t had a chance to stop in yet.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. It’s the heart of the island—and they’ve got the best peanut butter pie you’ll ever taste. I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow. My treat.”

Megan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Peanut butter pie, huh? Is this just an excuse to have dessert?”

Scott chuckled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. “Absolutely. But the sandwiches are pretty good, too.”

She let out a soft laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Okay. Lunch sounds nice.”

Scott straightened, tipping an imaginary hat. “It’s a date. Well, not a date date,” he added quickly, his grin turning sheepish. “Just lunch between colleagues.”

Megan’s laughter bubbled up, a sound that caught him off guard with its warmth. “Got it. Not a date. See you at noon, Santa.”

“See you then, Elf Megan,” he said with a wink, turning to head back to the Santa chair.

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