Page 14 of 40 and Flashing (the Scotsman)
“Santa’s helpers couldn’t come today, and they forgot ta send the presents in my bag. All I have is this wagon, ya see.” He gestured to the pile of presents. “But I also don’ have helpers. Would you boys like to be my helpers today?”
Intrigued with the idea of being given special status, the boys channeled their energy into handing out presents before taking their own into a corner of the room to tear open. There was no order here, only chaos and a sea of paper and gift bags and toy wrappings as children dug for their prize and happily ignored the mess. Gavin had never seen anything so satisfying. So many little faces full of stress and wariness when he’d entered, now smiling and carefree as they played with their presents. Many of them wanted Gavin to help open their toys, tear off the wrappers, and while he was occupied with them, Scarlett disappeared from his side. He saw her later helping the volunteers tidy the mess. She came back once the chaos was somewhat tamed, only to find him cuddling a sleepy little girl with thick black ringlets in her hair and her thumb in her mouth.
He shrugged at Scarlett’s tender look. The wee one had sought him out, exhausted, and curled into his arms as if she knew him. Maybe she did in a way, from the tales of Christmas she’d likely heard all her life.
“You did a good job, Santa,” she told him, rubbing the little girl’s back.
“I think I put my audience to sleep,” he joked.
“It’s the excitement. Wears ’em out every time.”
He scanned her face, trying to read beyond the surface. “Do ya have children?”
“No, that wasn’t for me. I need too much thinking time.” She gave him a smile that said she was content with her choice. “But I’ve had plenty of friends with little ones, so I know the drill. Here.” She eased the little girl out of his arms. “I’ll return her to her keeper while you go change.”
He made quick work of switching back into his own clothes, and when he returned to the community room, he found the children happily lined up, ready to load into the buses with their toys in hand. Iris thanked him profusely, which he shook his head at. “Happy I could help.”
“Well you certainly did,” she told him, giving him a sweetly scented hug that reminded him of Scarlett, if somewhat muted. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He took Scarlett’s hand, and they headed out to retrieve their cookies from the bakery. “Ready to write?” he asked her. “I need my story, after all.”
She laughed. “You won’t get it for a little while.” But her steps were bouncy and her smile happy as they walked back to her place for the afternoon.
ChapterSix
The walk from the bakery to Scarlett’s house was cold, but they warmed up when they got back with sub sandwiches and warm cider and their gingerbread cookies. She was used to spending a lot of time alone, but being with Gavin didn’t seem to drain her like a lot of socializing did. And oddly enough, it felt completely natural to leave him in her living room after lunch, piled into the recliner near the fireplace to read—yes, in his sock feet, though she had no whisky for him to sip—while she went into the office to write. She didn’t often have people in her space when she was being creative, but Gavin didn’t feel like an invasive presence. He felt natural. She knew his smile would charm her when she came back out, and he would make her laugh. In fact, she went into her next chapter anticipating seeing him again.
Her office held a chaise where she curled up with a warm blanket, her laptop, and headphones over her ears. Every book had a playlist she played on repeat, although sometimes her creativity would get stuck on a song and she would play just that one for hours while she wrote. Sometimes she became stuck and would dance around with her headphones on until inspiration struck again, although she didn’t dare risk that with Gavin in the house. She’d had some embarrassing moments when she first moved into the house and forgot to close the curtains in her office before her dancing sessions. Her neighbors were used to her by now, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing—though not nearly as much as showing Gavin her birthday suit the first second they’d met. She didn’t think she’d ever get over that.
With her headphones on, she wasn’t certain how long Gavin knocked on her door later that day. At some point she became vaguely aware of a loud sound and looked up, surfacing slowly from her deep dive into her story to the real world. When she tugged her headphones off, she realized he was knocking on the office door. “Come in.”
Gavin tucked his head inside to peek at her. “I wasn’t certain if interruptin’ was all right, but ya’ve been at it for almost five hours.”
She stood, feeling every minute of those five hours in her tight muscles as she stretched. “Sorry.”
He opened the door farther and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest in a way that made his muscles pop and her drool. “No need to be sorry. It’s just that Linc called and asked if they could bring pizza for dinner.”
A smile of relief broke across her face. “I was figuring I’d have to cook.”
He frowned. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding us, lass.”
The thought gave her pause. Or rather, the image—Gavin in her kitchen, stirring something on the stove, those sexy curls falling over his forehead. Nix the shirt and the picture became a fantasy that made her insides warm and her cheeks get hot.
“What was that thought?”
She jerked her gaze back to Gavin and reality. “Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m thinkin’ it was more than nothin’, but we can talk about that later. Right now…pizza?”
She pushed his demand to discuss her fantasies away and focused on now. “Lincoln and Claire’s pizzas are ambrosia, so definitely yes.”
He chuckled. “How about ya wrap up and I’ll get things ready in the meantime.”
Resisting the urge to follow him into the kitchen, she nodded. “Sure.”
She settled back into her spot, now aware of how stiff she was, and finished off the paragraph she’d been working on. A few notes on the direction she intended to go so she wouldn’t be lost when she sat down for tomorrow’s writing session, and she was ready to stop. By the time she exited the office, she could hear voices down the hall.
Claire greeted her when she entered the kitchen. “How’s the book coming?”
