Page 20 of Falling for Santa

As Scott walked away, a flicker of excitement warmed him. Mary’s Diner wasn’t fancy, but it was the perfect spot to show Megan a piece of the island’s charm. And maybe, over a slice of peanut butter pie, he could finally start to understand the woman who had quietly captivated him since she arrived.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Scott pushed open the door to Mary’s Diner, holding it open for Megan as the familiar scent of home-cooked meals enveloped them. Strings of twinkling holiday lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the small, bustling space. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments mismatched but charmingly personal, as if each one had a story.

Megan stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the cheerful scene. “It’s cozy,” she said, her voice soft, though her tone carried a hint of uncertainty.

“It’s the heart of the island,” Scott replied, smiling as he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder to guide her further inside. “Wait until you try the pie.”

Before they could find a seat, a voice called out from behind the counter. “Well, look who it is—our very own Santa Claus!”

Mary, the diner’s owner, bustled out from behind the coffee station, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And who’s this lovely lady?” she added, her gaze darting to Megan.

Scott chuckled. “Mary, this is Megan. Megan, meet Mary—the best cook on Palmar Island and the keeper of the infamous peanut butter pie.”

Megan offered a polite smile, though Scott could sense her self-consciousness under Mary’s knowing look.

“Nice to meet you, Megan,” Mary said warmly, her smile widening. “If Scott’s brought you here, you must be special. Now, what can I get you two today?”

“Two specials and two slices of pie,” Scott said without hesitation, glancing at Megan as he added, “Trust me, you’ll want the pie.”

Megan raised an eyebrow but let out a soft laugh. “You seem pretty confident about that.”

“I am,” Scott replied with a grin.

Mary winked at Megan. “He’s right, you know. I’ll have it out for you in a jiffy. Take a seat wherever you’d like.”

Scott led Megan to a booth near the window, where they could see the festive bustle of the street outside. Megan slid into her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced around.

“Do you always have this much pull at the diner?” she teased, her tone lighter now.

Scott leaned back, draping an arm casually over the top of the booth. “It’s the Santa magic,” he joked, his eyes twinkling.

Megan laughed softly, her shoulders relaxing as she reached for the menu, though it was more out of habit than necessity.

As they waited for their food, Scott leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “So,” he began, his tone warm but curious, “how did you find Palmar Island? It’s not exactly the kind of place people stumble upon.”

Megan glanced up, meeting his eyes briefly before looking back down at the menu she wasn’t really reading. “It was Danny’s idea,” she admitted, her voice tinged with something bittersweet. “He used to bring me here for vacations. Said it was the one place that felt like it could slow him down.”

Scott tilted his head, the mention of her late husband catching his attention. “Sounds like he loved it here.”

“He did,” Megan said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “He always joked about retiring here someday. I guess, in a way, I thought it might feel... safe to come back. Familiar.”

Scott’s gaze softened as he listened, the sincerity in her words drawing him closer. “Does it?” he asked gently.

Megan hesitated, considering her answer. “Some days it does,” she admitted. “Ruby’s thriving here, and that’s what matters most. But for me...” She trailed off, her fingers brushing the edge of her napkin.

“For you?” Scott prompted, his voice encouraging but not pressing.

Megan let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I think I’m still figuring that out.”

Scott nodded, letting her words settle between them. “That makes sense,” he said. “Starting over isn’t easy, especially when it’s not exactly by choice.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, surprised at how easily he seemed to understand.

Their conversation paused as Mary arrived with two steaming plates, setting them down with a flourish. “Here we go—two specials, and the pie’s coming up next.”

“Thanks, Mary,” Scott said, his grin returning.

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