Chapter 2

Tyler

With Milly’s cute little ass in the passenger seat of my truck, and the back loaded up with trees, wrapped gifts, and bags of what I’m guessing is food, I try to wrap my mind around the fact that she’s Port Huron’s Santa. For four years, people have been trying to guess who the Christmas miracle worker could be, and I guarantee that Milly never even made the list.

No one would think that spoiled Milly Hendricks—with her blonde hair, big blue eyes, and appetite for expensive things—would go out of her way to help someone else. Then again, maybe none of us know her. I know I don’t, which is something I’m going to use the next few hours with her to change.

“So what’s the plan?” I ask as I follow the directions on the GPS.

“When we get to the house, you’re going to have to park down the street, since they have a dog, and I don’t want to wake them up.”

“How do you know they have a dog?”

“Research. I always scope out the neighborhood and the family, so I don’t have what happened my first year happen again.”

“What happened to you the first year?” I ask, knowing from her tone it wasn’t pleasant.

“My last family of the night had a dog, and it started barking, so they let it outside as I was finishing up. The giant beast was as big as me, and it chased me all the way down their driveway that had to have been a mile long. I thought I was going to have a heart attack or end up in the hospital.”

“Christ, Milly,” I groan, not liking the idea of her being in danger.

“It all turned out okay in the end, and that situation showed me that I need to be more cautious and plan a little.”

“How many of the families tonight have dogs?”

“All but two, but don’t worry. Most of them are small, and I’ve strengthened my ninja skills over the years, so we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Ninja skills?” I chuckle.

“Laugh all you want, but I’m a professional,” she informs me hotly, and I glance over at her, thinking she’s even cuter with her cheeks pink from the cold and little to no makeup on her pretty face. My attraction to her isn’t anything new. I’ve always thought she was beautiful, but she’s forever been like an untouchable object at a museum. Something to admire from afar but know you will never be in a place to own it.

“You can park anywhere around here.” She breaks me out of my thoughts, and I recognize the street, because my grandmother lives a few houses down the block. After I park, we both get out, and then I follow her to the back and help her drag out a tree that already has a temporary base on it. Once it’s standing, she reaches for another bag and pulls out a length of thick red garland. “I know it might seem crazy, but I always set up each tree before carrying it up to the porch. Then, I place the gifts, and last, I leave the groceries. On average, it takes me fifteen minutes from start to finish, unless the family has a dog. Then I have to go ninja style, which makes the process take a little longer.”

“You also never had a partner before,” I remind her, helping her wrap the garland around the tree.

“Yeah.” She glances at my biceps. “With you helping lug the tree, we should be done in half the time.” She stands back when we’re done and rests her hands on her hips, looking me in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, let’s do this.” She grabs one of the red sacks from the bed of the truck and two of those reusable shopping bags. “Follow me and be quiet.”

I pick up the tree with one hand and use the other to take the red sack from her, a move that only makes her roll her eyes. I follow her up the street, and when we reach the house, I quietly set the tree in place and watch as she deposits the bags she’s holding. She then unloads the gifts under the tree. When we’re done, I take her hand to help her back down the snow-covered steps and keep hold of her until we reach the truck.

Buckled in and on our way to the next house on her list, I ask softly, “Why them?”

“I overheard someone talking about the family in that house. Both parents aren’t really around much, because they have to work a lot, and the two teen boys who live there have never had a real Christmas. I know that me showing up with a Christmas tree, a few gifts, and all the fixings for Christmas dinner won’t really help them, but if I can give the boys in that house something to smile about, I feel like I’ve made a difference.”

Her words rock me to my core, and I wonder if she really understands the gift she’s giving. At the end of the day, it won’t be about the stuff; it will be about the memories she was able to give a family. Without thinking, I reach out and take her hand, and when she doesn’t force me to let go, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did you have Christmas when you were a kid?”

Her laughter surprises me, and I glance at her quickly. “Have you met my mother?”

“Right, I should have known that was a stupid question.” Her house growing up was one I remember driving by in my parents’ old beat-up minivan, because it was decorated to perfection every single year. Hell, every house on her block was professionally decorated, so it was always an event going to see the lights. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re doing this.”

“I didn’t grow up counting down the days to tonight like most kids do. There was nothing special about December 25th. My family always had a tree and decorations. There was always a huge feast and quiet stories read by the fire. But Christmas was just another day. There was nothing special about it. I never went without. I always had more than I needed, so gifts were no big deal.” She shrugs, looking a bit sheepish. “Being young, I didn’t know I was taking it all for granted, but now that I’m older, I see that not everyone has it as good as I do. A lot of families struggle, not just around the holidays but every day. And it makes me feel sick when I think about all the money I’ve wasted over the years because I could. I guess in a way I want to give back, but I don’t want to do it for recognition. I want to do it, because it makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I’m making a difference, even if it’s a small one.”

“I don’t think you were taking it for granted, Milly. I think you were just a kid, and you didn’t know any different.”

“You say that now, but I know people in town dislike me. I see the looks and hear the whispers. Everyone thinks I’m a stuck-up rich girl who has never had to work for anything and is given everything.” I listen to her let out a breath. “They don’t know they’re wrong. Yes, my parents spoil me, but they’ve also in their way taught me the value of a dollar. I’ve had to work to get where I am. People don’t know my dad only gave me enough to pay for school, but I had to pay for my books, food, and apartment by working two jobs while I was in college. When I graduated, I moved home and lived with my parents so I could save up money for a house, and only when I had enough for a down payment did I move out on my own. Even my car is something I’ve paid for on my own, without the help of anyone.”

“You work for your dad,” I tell her, something she already knows.

“Yeah, and I make what anyone else in my position would make and not a dollar more. I’m sure one day when my dad is ready to retire, he will leave the bank to me and my brothers, but that won’t happen for a long, long time. And honestly, I don’t want the stress of owning a business. I’d rather just keep doing what I’m doing. I might not have millions or even hundreds of thousands of dollars to my name, but I can afford my mortgage, my car payment, and bills along with a yearly two-week-long trip to the beach.”

Thinking of her on the beach in a bikini is enough to have me shifting in my seat. “What’s your favorite beach to go to?”

“What?” she asks, moving her hand out from underneath mine and placing her fingers in front of the vents blowing warm air.

Turning up the heat, I ask, “What is your favorite beach to visit for two weeks?”

“I don’t have a favorite. I just want sun and sand while the snow is still falling here.”

“When’s your next trip?”

“I leave three days after New Year’s.” I hear the smile in her voice. “I’m going to Jamaica, where I’ve rented a villa on the water and plan to do nothing all day but drink virgin daiquiris and soak up the sun.”

“You’re not taking anyone with you?” I question. I know I’ve never seen her with a man, but that doesn’t mean much.

“No, all my friends are settled down with husbands and kids, so I’m going alone.”

“Is that safe?” I ask, not liking the idea of her being in a foreign country on her own.

“I travel alone all the time.” She waves me off like my question is ridiculous, then sits up a little taller. “There are three houses in this neighborhood we will be hitting tonight, so you can park anywhere around here.”

“Was that a Home Alone reference?” I ask, and the sound of her laughter fills the cab.

“I don’t think so, but it does make it sound like we’re robbing people instead of spreading Christmas joy.” She opens her door and hops out once I park. Again, we go through the whole routine, decorating each tree and putting them in place along with gifts and bags of food. When we get back in my truck, we head to the next house, and then the next, working together in sync until we finish with the last house on the list.

“I know you didn’t really invite me to help you tonight,” I say, stopping at a red light, “but I gotta tell you that this has been one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”

“It was pretty great, right?” She grins then tips her head to the side. “I know you probably want to get home to sleep, but if you’re hungry, I’m planning on making waffles when I get home. You’re welcome to join me for breakfast.”

“You know how to cook?”

“No, I was going to ask my housekeeper if she could whip us up a batch,” she says sarcastically. “You know I’m going to start getting offended by all your assumptions pretty soon.”

“Sorry, baby, but most women who look and dress like you do not know there way around a kitchen.”

“That’s a tad bit sexist, Tyler, and please do not put me in the same bag as all the bar bunnies who have warmed your bed over the years.”

“What do you know about the women who warm my bed?” I glance over at her, hoping like hell she doesn’t believe half the shit people talk about. Not that I would blame her if she did, since I never really took the time to get to know her because of the things people said.

“I know they never stick around very long.”

“Maybe because none of them made me waffles.” I shrug.

“I changed my mind about breakfast. I’m suddenly feeling tired.”

“It’s too late. You already asked me, and it would be rude to take back your offer now.”

“Whatever.” She huffs. “But if you annoy me, I can’t promise I won’t try to poison you.”

Laughing at her statement, I know I’m screwed, because I now have a serious crush on Milly Hendricks. I just hope like hell that she’s as interested as I am. Otherwise, things might become awkward if I have to start stalking her.