Chapter 3

It’s okay. Everything is okay. I force myself not to visibly freak out about the fact that Tyler Speeds is in my house, in my kitchen, looking like he belongs here. I know I shouldn’t read into the situation, but I swear he was flirting with me while we were in his truck, and he for sure held my hand more than once.

“Your house is beautiful, babe.”

His comment forces me to look at him, and when I do, I notice he’s looking out the double doors at the backyard.

“I know you can’t tell right now with all the snow, but in the summer, the backyard looks like magic with all the flowers in bloom and the fish pond bubbling away.” I continue talking as I go into the walk-in pantry and get the stuff to make buttermilk waffles, the same waffles my mom used to make for me when I was a kid. “I know it wasn’t smart to buy a house based on the backyard, especially living here, where it’s only really summer for three months a year, but it’s the only reason I bought this one.”

“I bought my house because of the basement.” He smiles at me, and my heart flutters. “I wanted a man cave, and it was the only one I could find in town.”

“Well then, I have to show you something.” I open one of the doors in the kitchen and flip on the light. Without telling him to follow me, I head down into the basement and flip on the lights there, turning to catch his expression when he clears the overhang of the stairs. “This house belonged to Mr. Dorty. I don’t know if you remember him, but he was famous in town for his poker nights. When he sold, he left everything, because he and his wife were moving into a condo in Florida.”

“Shit, this must be heaven.” He spins around, taking in the full kitchen and bar, pool table, poker table, leather couch, and large-screen TV.

“You sound like my dad.” I laugh. “Three times since I’ve moved in, he and his buddies have hid out down here playing poker and watching football.”

“It’s a great fucking space and not something you’d expect to find in a house that looks like this one.”

“I have a feeling Mr. Dorty gave his wife free reign upstairs and outside so she’d leave him be down here.”

“Smart man.” He smirks, and damn if my entire body doesn’t tingle. “Are there any other hidden surprises in this house?”

“A couple, but I can’t give all my secrets away in one night.” I smile, and he chuckles as I turn off the lights and head back upstairs.

“What do you want me to help with?”

“Do you know how to make coffee without one of those fancy machines with the little cups?” I ask, motioning to the coffee pot on the counter.

“Since I don’t have one of those machines except at the bar, yeah.”

“Well then, I’ll trust you with that task.” I pull out the waffle maker and plug it in so it can warm up before I start the simple batter.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asks as I spoon batter into the waffle maker.

“Just a little of the vanilla creamer that’s in the fridge.”

“Got it,” he says, and then a moment later, he steps up next to me, placing a cup of coffee on the counter and resting his hand against my lower back. Having him so close makes every inch of me feel hyperaware, especially after years of crushing on him from afar. “They smell good.”

“They taste better.” I swallow hard when I realize how close he is. All it would take is for one of us to lean in slightly, and our mouths would brush. Not wanting to read into things, I turn back to the counter and pick up my coffee, taking a sip of the hot, sweet liquid. “So what are your plans for the day?” I twist around, and his hand drops away as I rest my hip on the counter so we’re face-to-face.

“My sister Connie and her husband are in town with my niece, so my parents are planning a big dinner tonight. What about you?”

“My parents are in Paris, and my brothers are spending the day with their spouses. They said I could join them for dinner, but I don’t know if I will, or if I’ll just find something to watch here and curl up on the couch for the day.” I shrug.

“You can come with me to my parents’,” he offers, and my stomach flips. “It should be pretty low-key, and the food will be good.”

“Do think that’s smart? I mean, before last night, we never had more than a few dozen interactions.”

“Are you afraid my family will ask if we’re dating?”

“Well, yeah,” I say like duh, because what else would they think? It’s not like we were friends before now.

“I promise I won’t tell them we’re dating.”

“Umm,” I whisper as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and his thumb skims the underside of my jaw.

“Don’t start panicking, Milly.”

“I’m not panicking,” I lie as my heart starts to pound.

“So you’ll go with me to dinner at my parents’?”

Looking into his eyes, I know without a doubt that I’ll regret it if I say no, so I say a silent prayer and nod, then say, “Yes, I’ll go with you.”

“Good.” He touches his nose to mine, and the sweet, simple gesture makes my toes curl.

“Now, you need to stop distracting me before I burn the waffles.” I place my hand against his chest and push him back a step, needing the space in order to think clearly.

He leans against the counter next to me and watches as I flip out the first waffle, and like most men would, he picks off a piece of it and takes a bite, groaning as he chews and swallows. “Damn, this is good, babe.”

“They taste better with butter and warm syrup, but thanks.” I smile at him, and then we talk quietly as I finish making the waffles. When I’m done, we each load up a plate then settle in my breakfast nook to eat with the snow falling outside the window, casting the perfect backdrop. The conversation flows easily, like we’ve talked every day since we met years ago, and I wonder if there’s a little bit of Christmas magic in the air.

Wiping the invisible window in front of me, I laugh as Tyler, who is on my team in charades, tries to guess what I’m doing, coming up with every answer except for cleaning. I would have thought I might be uncomfortable at his parents’ house, today of all days, but since the moment I arrived, I was made to feel welcome and wanted. His mom reminds me of my own mom, just much more casual in the way she dresses and with her personality. And his dad is a lot like mine, surprisingly sweet for his size and with an aura of authority.

“Time!” his sister shouts, and Tyler groans as he falls back onto the couch.

“Cleaning.” I pretend once more that I’m washing a window. “I was cleaning. How did you not get that?” I laugh as he pulls me down on the couch to sit next to him and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“Babe, I thought you were pretending to be a mime.”

“I know you did, because that’s the only thing you kept saying over and over.” I roll my eyes at him as his mom laughs. Meeting her gaze, I watch her face soften with a warm, hopeful smile.

“You know, if you keep being sweet, it’s going to break my mom’s heart when I tell her we’re not dating,” Tyler says close to my ear. “I don’t see the harm in lying to them for a while, do you?”

“You’re not going to lie to your parents,” I mutter under my breath so no one around us can hear.

“It doesn’t have to be a lie, Milly,” he says, and I turn to face him so I can ask if he’s serious, but his cell phone rings. With a sigh, he pulls it out of his pocket, and when he sees the screen, his brows drag together. “Sorry, I gotta take this call.” He leans in, kissing my forehead before getting up off the couch.

“Who’s ready for some pie?” his mom asks, and even as stuffed as I am, my mouth waters at the idea of having a piece of the pumpkin pie I saw in the kitchen.

“I can help you,” I tell her, standing.

“Thanks, honey.” She smiles at me before leading the way toward the kitchen.

When we reach the doorway, I freeze in place when I hear Tyler tell whoever he’s talking to that I’ve been Port Huron’s Santa for four years. Anger turns my stomach, making the food I’d eaten earlier sour, and my hands ball into fists at my sides.

I know I should just walk away, but I can’t. I trusted him with my secret, and I can’t believe that after the day we’ve had, he would go behind my back and do the one thing I asked him not to do. As soon as I walk around the corner into the kitchen, his eyes meet mine and fill with regret.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Milly, baby—”

“You promised you wouldn’t tell. You promised.”

“I didn’t.” He shoves his phone into his back pocket as he takes a step toward me.

“Then what was that?” My jaw clenches as I fight back tears.

“That was Steven Harris, who runs the local paper. We were caught on video last night at a couple of the houses we went to, and they are planning on running the story. He called to ask me if I wanted to make a statement. He thought it’s always been me.” He reaches out, taking my hand. “I know you don’t want people to know, but they will after the article, and it’s only right you get the credit.”

“I don’t want credit. I never wanted that.”

“I know you didn’t, but the story is going to run, and the families who got us on video have already sent the footage to one of the local TV stations.”

Oh man, my legs suddenly feel like Jell-O, so I take a seat on one of the barstools in the kitchen. “You’re the Port Huron Santa?” Tyler’s mom asks, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Who’s the Port Huron Santa?” his dad prompts, coming into the kitchen with his sister following.

“Milly is.” Tyler sighs. “She didn’t want anyone to know, but at two of the houses we went to last night, we were caught on video, and they’ve already turned those tapes in to the local news station.”

“You helped?” his dad asks.

“Only last night, and only because the truck she rented broke down. The last four years, Milly has done what we did last night on her own, and even last night, all I did was carry a few trees. That’s what I was telling Steve on the phone, because I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve got anything to do with the magic she creates every year.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, cocooning me in his embrace, then kisses the top of my hair. “I’m sorry that people are gonna find out, baby.”

“Me too, but I guess I should have thought about technology when I was planning everything out.”

“Well, now you know for next year. And just think—you can really use some of those fancy ninja skills you were telling me about.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” I roll my eyes, then tell him honestly, “I don’t know if I’ll do it again next year, now that people know it’s me. I don’t want people to think I’m doing it for attention or something.”

“You have to do it again,” his sister says, and my eyes lock with hers. “Who cares if people know it’s you? You’re doing something special and reminding people what the holidays are really about. I, for one, love it, and I know everyone else will feel the same.”

“She’s right, baby. If it’s something that makes you happy, you can’t stop doing it just because people now know it’s you.”

“I’ll think about it,” I give in, not sure what I’ll do.

“Well, you have a year to figure it out,” his mom says, passing me a piece of pie. “For now, let’s enjoy tonight and worry about the rest another time.”

“That works for me,” I agree with a smile.