Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

S cott couldn’t get Megan out of his mind. Not in the way he imagined a man might lose sleep over someone they were falling for, though that thought wasn’t far off, but because she was simply unforgettable. The way she’d handled Cupid’s escape—with more determination than experience and more humor than frustration—had stuck with him. She’d been flustered and worn out, but she never let it show to the kids, managing to keep their day magical despite the chaos.

It wasn’t just that moment, though. Over the past few weekends, Scott had noticed the little things about Megan: the way she always crouched to meet a child’s eye level, her gentle patience when they cried over spilled glitter or a crooked craft, and the quiet way she carried the weight of single motherhood without complaint. He admired her resilience, even if she didn’t seem to realize how strong she was.

And maybe, he admitted to himself as he adjusted his Santa hat in the mirror of the staff shed, he just wanted to know her better.

The Village had settled into its late afternoon lull. Most of the kids who’d come with the school group earlier had left, leaving only a handful of families wandering between the activities. Scott scanned the area as he stepped outside, his gaze naturally gravitating toward the crafts table.

There she was. Megan stood with a child, leaning slightly over the table as she helped glue a star-shaped decoration onto an ornament. Her long brown hair was swept into a messy bun, and a faint streak of glitter dusted her cheek, catching the light every time she moved. The child giggled as Megan said something Scott couldn’t hear, her tone light and playful.

He smiled to himself. She was good with kids—better than she gave herself credit for—and that kindness drew him in more than anything.

Steeling himself, Scott walked toward the crafts table, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. Megan didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the task at hand. He took a moment to appreciate her focus before leaning casually against the edge of the table.

“Hey, Elf Megan,” he said with an easy grin. “How about a break?”

Megan glanced up, startled for a moment before her expression softened. “Scott,” she said, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Is Santa done wrangling reindeer for the day?”

“For now,” he said with mock seriousness, folding his arms. “But I’m here on a different mission.”

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Scott’s grin widened as Megan tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. “Let me take you to lunch.”

“You really don’t have to do that, you know,” she said, brushing a piece of glitter off her sleeve.

“I know,” Scott replied, his voice warm. “But I want to. You’ve been putting in so much effort—wrangling kids, handling Cupid, and keeping this place running. It’s the least I can do to say thank you.”

Megan hesitated, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of the crafts table. “Lunch, huh?”

“Lunch,” Scott confirmed. “At Mary’s Diner. Ever been?”

Megan shook her head. “I’ve passed it, but I haven’t had a chance to stop in yet.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. It’s the heart of the island—and they’ve got the best peanut butter pie you’ll ever taste. I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow. My treat.”

Megan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Peanut butter pie, huh? Is this just an excuse to have dessert?”

Scott chuckled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. “Absolutely. But the sandwiches are pretty good, too.”

She let out a soft laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Okay. Lunch sounds nice.”

Scott straightened, tipping an imaginary hat. “It’s a date. Well, not a date date,” he added quickly, his grin turning sheepish. “Just lunch between colleagues.”

Megan’s laughter bubbled up, a sound that caught him off guard with its warmth. “Got it. Not a date. See you at noon, Santa.”

“See you then, Elf Megan,” he said with a wink, turning to head back to the Santa chair.

As Scott walked away, a flicker of excitement warmed him. Mary’s Diner wasn’t fancy, but it was the perfect spot to show Megan a piece of the island’s charm. And maybe, over a slice of peanut butter pie, he could finally start to understand the woman who had quietly captivated him since she arrived.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Scott pushed open the door to Mary’s Diner, holding it open for Megan as the familiar scent of home-cooked meals enveloped them. Strings of twinkling holiday lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the small, bustling space. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments mismatched but charmingly personal, as if each one had a story.

Megan stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the cheerful scene. “It’s cozy,” she said, her voice soft, though her tone carried a hint of uncertainty.

“It’s the heart of the island,” Scott replied, smiling as he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder to guide her further inside. “Wait until you try the pie.”

Before they could find a seat, a voice called out from behind the counter. “Well, look who it is—our very own Santa Claus!”

Mary, the diner’s owner, bustled out from behind the coffee station, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And who’s this lovely lady?” she added, her gaze darting to Megan.

Scott chuckled. “Mary, this is Megan. Megan, meet Mary—the best cook on Palmar Island and the keeper of the infamous peanut butter pie.”

Megan offered a polite smile, though Scott could sense her self-consciousness under Mary’s knowing look.

“Nice to meet you, Megan,” Mary said warmly, her smile widening. “If Scott’s brought you here, you must be special. Now, what can I get you two today?”

“Two specials and two slices of pie,” Scott said without hesitation, glancing at Megan as he added, “Trust me, you’ll want the pie.”

Megan raised an eyebrow but let out a soft laugh. “You seem pretty confident about that.”

“I am,” Scott replied with a grin.

Mary winked at Megan. “He’s right, you know. I’ll have it out for you in a jiffy. Take a seat wherever you’d like.”

Scott led Megan to a booth near the window, where they could see the festive bustle of the street outside. Megan slid into her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced around.

“Do you always have this much pull at the diner?” she teased, her tone lighter now.

Scott leaned back, draping an arm casually over the top of the booth. “It’s the Santa magic,” he joked, his eyes twinkling.

Megan laughed softly, her shoulders relaxing as she reached for the menu, though it was more out of habit than necessity.

As they waited for their food, Scott leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “So,” he began, his tone warm but curious, “how did you find Palmar Island? It’s not exactly the kind of place people stumble upon.”

Megan glanced up, meeting his eyes briefly before looking back down at the menu she wasn’t really reading. “It was Danny’s idea,” she admitted, her voice tinged with something bittersweet. “He used to bring me here for vacations. Said it was the one place that felt like it could slow him down.”

Scott tilted his head, the mention of her late husband catching his attention. “Sounds like he loved it here.”

“He did,” Megan said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “He always joked about retiring here someday. I guess, in a way, I thought it might feel... safe to come back. Familiar.”

Scott’s gaze softened as he listened, the sincerity in her words drawing him closer. “Does it?” he asked gently.

Megan hesitated, considering her answer. “Some days it does,” she admitted. “Ruby’s thriving here, and that’s what matters most. But for me...” She trailed off, her fingers brushing the edge of her napkin.

“For you?” Scott prompted, his voice encouraging but not pressing.

Megan let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I think I’m still figuring that out.”

Scott nodded, letting her words settle between them. “That makes sense,” he said. “Starting over isn’t easy, especially when it’s not exactly by choice.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, surprised at how easily he seemed to understand.

Their conversation paused as Mary arrived with two steaming plates, setting them down with a flourish. “Here we go—two specials, and the pie’s coming up next.”

“Thanks, Mary,” Scott said, his grin returning.

Megan picked up her fork, eyeing the plate in front of her. “This looks amazing.”

“Wait until dessert,” Scott said with a wink.

As they ate, the conversation turned lighter. Scott shared stories about his woodworking business, describing the joy he found in crafting pieces that people cherished. Megan asked thoughtful questions, and he found himself appreciating how genuinely interested she seemed.

“It’s different from what I used to do,” he said, finishing the last bite of his sandwich. “But the slower pace works for me. I don’t miss the rush.”

Megan nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “I can see that. There’s something nice about this place—how connected everyone seems to be.”

“It’s the community,” Scott said. “People here care about each other. It’s why I stayed.”

Megan hesitated, her gaze dropping to her plate. “It’s... a lot to adjust to. Coming from somewhere bigger, where no one really notices you—it’s different.”

Scott heard the unspoken emotion in her words but didn’t push. “Different can be good,” he said gently.

Before Megan could respond, Mary reappeared, carrying two slices of peanut butter pie. “All right, here’s what you’ve been waiting for,” she said with a smile, setting the plates down.

Megan stared at the slice in front of her, the creamy filling topped with a drizzle of chocolate and a dollop of whipped cream. “This looks dangerous,” she said, glancing at Scott.

“Only if you don’t eat it,” he quipped.

Megan laughed softly, picking up her fork. She took a tentative bite, her eyes widening. “Okay, this is incredible.”

“Told you,” Scott said, grinning.

Scott leaned forward slightly, digging into his own slice. “You should bring Ruby by the Village one day—not just when you’re working. I’ll make sure Cupid behaves this time.”

Megan smiled, though there was hesitation in her eyes. “She’d love that, but I’m not sure we can fit it in.”

“We can make it easy,” Scott said. “Come early time, before the crowds show up. Just you and Ruby. I’ll make sure she gets a special Santa experience.”

Megan’s smile softened, the reluctance in her expression giving way to something warmer. “That might be nice,” she admitted. “She’s been talking about Santa nonstop lately.”

Scott chuckled. “Then it’s settled. Let me know when, and we’ll make it happen.”

Over the rest of their pie, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, and Megan found herself laughing more than she had in weeks.

As they left Mary’s Diner, Scott instinctively reached out to hold the door open for Megan, his easy smile returning when she glanced up at him with a quiet “Thanks.” The afternoon sun was beginning its descent, casting warm golden light across the small town.

Scott walked her to his truck, unlocking it with a click. “Hop in,” he said, gesturing toward the passenger side.

Megan hesitated for a moment before climbing in, the lingering warmth of their conversation still settling over her. As Scott slid into the driver’s seat, the faint scent of cedar from his woodworking projects filled the air, grounding her in the moment.

“Where’s Ruby today?” Scott asked as he started the engine, pulling out onto the quiet road.

“She’s with Miss Doris,” Megan said, glancing out the window. “She insisted. Said she missed having Ruby around now that Gertrude’s been watching her more often.”

Scott chuckled softly, keeping his eyes on the road. “Sounds like Miss Doris. She’s not one to let anyone slip out of her orbit.”

“She’s been amazing,” Megan admitted. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without her when we first got here.”

“She’s got a big heart,” Scott said. “She’s the reason half the island feels like family. And the other half? They’re probably on her list.”

Megan laughed lightly, her shoulders relaxing. “That sounds about right. Ruby loves her, though. Every time I pick her up, she’s got a new drawing or story to share.”

Scott smiled at the image, his grip on the wheel loosening. “She’s a lucky kid to have you looking out for her.”

Megan glanced at him, a hint of vulnerability in her expression. “I don’t always feel like I’m doing enough.”

Scott’s tone softened. “You’re doing more than enough, Megan. Just watching the way Ruby lights up when she talks about you—she’s got everything she needs.”

Megan looked down at her hands, her lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

They drove in comfortable silence for a moment, the familiar sights of Palmar Island rolling past. Scott finally broke it with a question that had been lingering in his mind. “Does Ruby like spending time with Gertrude?”

“She does,” Megan said, nodding. “It’s been a relief, honestly. Gertrude has such a way with kids, and Ruby’s taken to her quickly. But I think she misses Miss Doris too.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a whole fan club for Ruby,” Scott teased, his grin widening.

Megan laughed. “She’s easy to love.”

Scott glanced at her briefly, his voice quieter now. “Like her mom.”

Megan blinked, caught off guard by the comment. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the road, her cheeks tinged with warmth.

Scott pulled up in front of Megan’s bungalow, shifting the truck into park. He turned to her with a gentle smile. “Thanks for letting me kidnap you for lunch. It was nice to just talk for a while.”

Megan smiled back, the sincerity in his tone catching her off guard yet again. “It was. And you were right about the pie.”

“Told you.” He grinned, leaning back slightly. “You let me know when you’re ready for round two.”

Megan rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the small laugh that escaped. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As she opened the door, Scott hesitated. “Megan?”

She paused, turning back to look at him.

“You’re doing a great job,” he said simply, his voice steady.

Megan’s chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over her like a comforting blanket. “Thanks, Scott,” she said softly before stepping out of the truck.

He waited until she was safely inside before driving off, the warmth of their conversation lingering as he headed back toward his workshop.

“She’s something special,” Scott thought to himself, smiling faintly as the glow of Christmas lights began to appear along the streets. “One day, she’ll see it too.”