Page 10 of Saint Nick
He opened his mouth to tell her the truth—that it didn’t mean a damn thing to him, but then his gaze landed on the kids laughing near the tree, the bikers smiling with their families, Brooke kissing Mace’s cheek. And something inside of him seemed to shift.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “it’s about getting a second chance.”
Sandy lowered the phone, surprised. “At what?”
“At believing again,” he said quietly. “In people. Maybe even yourself.”
Their eyes met, and she smiled—soft, genuine, and a little sad. “That’s perfect,” she whispered.
SANDY
She’d told herself this assignment was just a job. That Nick was just a quote and a headline. He was a fluff piece that was going to make her boss happy and allow her to keep her job but watching him with those kids this afternoon changed everything. She was developing quite a soft spot for Nick and seeing him today only drove home the fact for her that he was becoming so much more than a story for her.
The big, gruff biker claimed to hate Christmas, but he had laughed, really laughed, when a little boy tugged on his fake beard and called him “Bad Santa.” His eyes had softened, and for a fleeting moment, Sandy saw the man underneath all that armor. He had built so many walls around himself to protect himself from a system that nearly broke him, she wondered if she’d ever get inside his fortress to see the real him—but she had. And what she saw was a man who needed saving just as much as she did. They were two broken souls just trying tofind their way in the world, and for some crazy reason, the universe had thrown them together.
Now, as the crowd thinned and the Christmas music faded into the background, she found herself standing beside him under the mistletoe someone had tacked up above the bar. After meeting Brooke, she was pretty sure that she was the one who had decorated the entire bar for the party.
Nick seemed to notice it at the same time as she did. “Don’t,” he warned, though his smirk said otherwise.
“It’s tradition,” she teased. “Even the grumpy elves have to follow the rules of tradition.”
“Who says I’m grumpy?” he asked, “And who the fuck are you calling an elf?”
“You,” she whispered, leaning in closer to his big body.
Nick stepped closer—close enough that she could feel the heat of him. “You sure you want to do this, Sandy?”
Her breath hitched. “Pretty sure.” She was definitely sure, but telling him that might scare him away. Since their dinner earlier that week, all she could think about was kissing the biker, and doing so under the mistletoe felt so wrong; it had to be right.
He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to back away—but she didn’t. Their lips brushed, soft at first, then deeper, warmer. The kind of kiss that made her toes curl and her heart stumble. When they finally pulled apart, she was smiling. “Merry Christmas, Santa.”
He chuckled, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But you didn’t seem to mind.” He was dangerous to her because if she wasn’t careful, he’d be able to take her heart, and what he did with it next could possibly destroy her or make her the happiest woman on the planet.
Across the bar, Mace whistled, earning a glare from Nick. Brooke just beamed. “Guess our Santa finally found his Christmas spirit,” she called out.
Sandy laughed, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. Nick just shook his head, muttering something about finding new friends. But as he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, she knew one thing for sure?—
For the first time in a long time, neither of them was pretending anymore.
The snow had started falling again, thick and slow, blanketing the world in silence. From her living room window, Sandy watched it swirl beneath the streetlight, her reflection faint in the glass. She still had flushed cheeks, bright eyes, the faintest hint of a smile she couldn’t quite hide because she had spent the entire evening replaying that kiss in her mind. It wasn’t just the kiss, though. It was the way he’d looked at her afterward—like he didn’t quite believe what had just happened, like he was afraid to want it to happen again.
She had turned in her story earlier that afternoon, after leaving the party. Nick had asked her to stick around the Road Reapers for a while, but she couldn’t. Her boss was waiting for her final copy, and all she had to do was add Nick’s quote and the photos she had taken that day. Sandy hated telling him that she couldn’t stay, but work called, and a deadline was a deadline.
A part of her wondered if she’d still see Nick after she turned her story in. He promised to call her, but was that just a promise that some guys made and didn’t keep? She liked to believe that Nick was different, but she had no real reason tothink that way about him—other than the way that he was with the kids at the club. He was so good with them, and when he let his guard down, he looked as though he was actually having a good time being Santa.
A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts. She didn’t need to check who it was. Somehow, she already knew. When she opened the door, Nick stood there still in his leather jacket he had on at the club, and a dusting of snow in his dark hair. His eyes caught hers, searching, almost uncertain.
“Hey,” he said quietly. She could hear how unsure he was from just that one word, and all Sandy wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be all right.
“Hey, yourself,” she replied. “You want to come in?”
He hesitated a beat before nodding. “Yeah. If it’s okay.”
She stepped aside, closing the door behind him. “You left the party so quickly, I felt as though I didn’t get to say goodbye to you,” he said. She had snuck out of the bar when she knew that he was occupied with his friends. She hated long, drawn-out farewells. Plus, she didn’t want him to feel as though he had to make any promises about seeing each other again.
“Yeah, sorry, but I had to turn in my story,” she said. “Plus, I left before I could say thank you,” she said.
