Page 51 of The Snuggle is Real
The event itself was free—and many parents took their own photos. The ticket Mason gave me ensured I’d get a glossy 8x10 print shot by the professional photographer set up near the sleigh where Santa was ensconced and probably a lot warmer than those of us in line.
Though to be fair, he’d be out here all day. I didn’t envy the guy.
“I hate to turn anyone away,” Mason said regretfully. “But it’s part of the job.”
“You offered me help. Without me even asking first. Why?”
“You were asking,” he said. “Just not with words.”
Our eyes met, and it was as if he could see inside to everything I tried to hide. Was that how he’d known to push? To refuse to take no for an answer?
“I should get back to helping Dottie,” he said. “If you give up on the line, there’s some fun selfie stations set up around the park too.”
Charlie grabbed my sleeve to pull me into my place in line. “Pretty sure this one is set on talking to Santa.”
“Yep! I met him once already. Do you think he’ll remember me?”
“How could he not?” Mason tousled her hair. “You’re the cutest kid here.”
Charlie watched him walk away with stars in her eyes. “Mason is so nice, isn’t he?”
“The nicest guy I’ve ever met.”
She sighed wistfully. “I wish Mama could meet someone like him. If she did, maybe I could stay in Christmas Falls.”
I bit my cheek to hide my smile at the thought of LuAnne and Mason ever going on a date. The man was gay as fuck, and LuAnne went more for the bad boy type. That had been me once, but once we’d settled down and I’d decided to raise Charlie as my own, I got a job and took responsibility…and LuAnne got bored.
Oh, she tried for a while and so did I, but in the end, my grief over my sister was the last straw for what was already a bad match.
“Ford Donnelly! Hey! Over here! Helloooo!”
Speaking of bad matches…
“Who’s that?” Charlie asked with a cute little wrinkle of her nose.
Sasha Cunningham picked her way through the snow, wobbling a little. And no wonder. She wore red boots with heels so high they should hire her as a performer on stilts. Her hair was dyed bottle red and clashed with her complexion—nothing like Mason’s natural strawberry blond.
“She’s just an old friend,” I said.
“You have a lot of old friends.”
Whoops. I forgot I’d introduced Nick the same way.
I chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I grew up here. I know half the town.”
“That must be nice,” Charlie said, sounding wistful. “I don’t know anyone else.”
I squeezed her hand. “Not true. You know Mason.”
“But he’s your friend.”
“He’s your friend too. I think?—”
“Ford!” Sasha called again, too close to ignore. “Hi. I just wanted to meet your darling little girl.” She clucked. “I heard about her mama, poor thing.”
“What about my mama?” Charlie said sharply.
Sasha glanced from me to Charlie. “Oh, I just heard what happened, is all, sweetie. It’s too bad that she got herself in trouble like that. Family should be together at Christmas.”
