Page 22 of The Snuggle is Real
“Okay,” I blurted, surprising both of us.
Mason paused. “Okay?”
I grimaced. “I don’t need anything, but Charlie deserves better. Her mom is…well, she doesn’t have her mom for the holidays and that’s hard on a little girl.”
Mason’s eyes filled with sympathy. It didn’t strike me as pity so much as understanding. “I bet it is.”
“Christmas Falls throws the holidays in our face 24/7 and I’m just afraid…”
“Afraid of what?” Mason prompted.
“I’ll disappoint her,” I whispered.
Mason was about six inches shorter than me, but just then I felt like a small man. One who couldn’t provide.
“You’re not going to disappoint her,” Mason said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
I blew out a breath as a huge weight sloughed off my shoulders. For the first time since I picked up Charlie, I wasn’t in this alone.
Mason was just some guy at a charitable organization, but he’d make sure Charlie got what she needed.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice too thick. “For Charlie’s sake.”
He smiled and patted my arm. “For Charlie’s sake.”
And to think, I’d only gone out to get a dang bottle of pink bubble bath.
CHAPTER 7
Mason
As I staredup at Ford, a man full of pride who’d humbled himself for a little girl, my heart fluttered.
It hadn’t been easy for him to come in here—even if it was under the guise of repaying me for the Thanksgiving meal. And it especially hadn’t been easy for him to acknowledge he might need more help.
But he had the skittish look now of a man who might back out.
“Charlie and I should be going. We’re headed to the parade. I’ll, uh, stop back some other time?”
“What a coincidence,” I said on impulse. “I’m going to the parade too. You can help me hand out blankets, and I’ll give you a rundown of our programs.”
“Uh, okay.”
I smiled brightly. “Be right back.”
Lonnie, who used to run this agency part-time over the holidays, had told me he always gave out blankets because lots of folks didn’t plan ahead.
It was a nice gesture, and it also encouraged many people to follow up with a charitable donation. Win-win.
But tonight it would be win-win-win because I could wrangle Ford.
As I expected, he had no objections to helping others despite his aversion toacceptingit. When we got to the parade grounds, he carried the box full of blankets.
Charlie skipped ahead—in the thicker,pinkerwinter coat I’d pulled from our donations pile—and asked folks if they wanted some extra warmth.
I followed behind, handing out brochures about the agency.
Ford knew a lot of people in Christmas Falls. Arlo Harper, who ran a B&B called Gingerbread Cottage, called out a hello. His boyfriend, Emerson Maxwell, was a pretty famous author who had a couple of book signings scheduled at Season’s Readings bookstore. I’d probably swing by for one.
