Chapter Eleven

Izzy

Today Santa was coming to my bookstore to read to the children. It was an annual thing and they all seemed to love Jesse, er, Santa. Jesse really got into character and at this point had earned his title of Silver Spring’s resident Claus.

Not wanting to wrinkle the Santa suit he dropped off a few days ago in preparation for today’s big event, I draped it over the back of the old red velvet throne chair with gold-painted accents I pulled out every year for this event.

Jesse insisted on getting dressed here after last year’s debacle. Basically, one of the kids saw Jesse driving over without his beard and then made a whole thing out of it. Kids were freaking out, parents nervous. So yeah, it was safe to say we definitely had to change that this year.

I looked at my watch and realized it was still early, though, so I decided to fix the shelves. Walking over to one in particular, I fussed with my own Santa hat. Yes, I got to wear one, too, as Santa’s helper, of course.

At the sound of my door opening, I turned and saw Bo coming in. He was wearing a caramel-colored sweater that showed off his abs and arms. I hadn’t seen his arms since he always wore long sleeves, but could only imagine the way they were ripped. As he walked closer, I wanted so badly to break my stare so he didn’t notice, but it seemed that wasn’t happening. My eyes couldn’t help themselves, they continued their descent down. The way his jeans looked so good on him. There was no way, unless you were a Greek god, that you could look this. . . this. . .

Delicious?

No.

Sculpted.

“Hey, Izzy.”

I heard the words. I knew they were coming from Bo, but it was like I was in a trance. Well, if a trance meant being totally taken by a man who happened to be leaving town soon and I was never going to see again, at least not for a good long while, then, yes, I was in a trance. And then the realization that we would never have potential to be anything more than friends hit me like a mack truck.

Just like the realization that maybe , just maybe I was interested in this man.

Boy, was I in a pickle.

“Izzy,” I heard his deep voice say again, obviously trying to get my attention.

At this point, I could’ve just worn a sign that said: I’m staring at your body and don’t want to look elsewhere because you’re a beautiful specimen of a man.

Geez, what was wrong with me?

“Yeah,” I replied finally, shaking my head and trying my best to play it cool.

The smirk that he was wearing must’ve meant that he noticed me staring. Oh, who was I kidding, I didn’t exactly hide it. That was me, folks, the girl who wore her heart on her sleeve and couldn’t seem to not give away the fact that I was attracted to this man.

Any minute now sirens were going to go off. Please evacuate the building everyone, we have a Stage 1 Starer. It was probably just as bad as being a Stage 1 Clinger.

Trying to ignore all that, I gave him a small smile and asked, “What’s up?”

Honestly, I was surprised he was here. I didn’t think I’d ever see Bo walk into my bookstore—definitely not of his own volition.

He stuffed his hand in his pocket and pulled something out. A little silver bell with a blue ribbon hanging off of it. “The jingle bells came in,” he explained, looking at it himself and grinning. “They’re nice, right?”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing or hearing, but it seemed Bo was actually fond of a Christmas decoration that we got as favors for Louie and Fiona’s joint bach party.

“Festive bells in your pocket,” I noted. “Next thing you know you’re going to carry candy canes.”

He cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t go that far. I emailed you about these coming in, though, and didn’t hear back from you. I figured you’d want to see how they turned out for yourself.”

I reached to take it in my hand as he passed it to me. “Here,” he said, handing it over, our fingers grazing, and I looked up into his eyes. He stared back at me and our hands stayed frozen in place for what seemed like a full minute until he finally cleared his throat and backed up slightly.

I took the bell and looked at it closer. “Kissing,” I blurted out completely out of the blue. Truthfully, I was just trying to break the awkward silence that was lingering in the air. “They’re kissing bells,” I told him.

He brought a hand to the back of his neck and looked down. “Right.”

“They came out perfect. The initials look great and I really think everyone’s going to love them.”

“Yeah, I think Louie and Fiona will be happy.”

“Of course they will,” I guaranteed. “Fiona loves sleigh bells and you said Louie likes mini things like those bottles, so this was kind of genius.”

“Sure. You know, I still don’t get why they’re called kissing bells,” he said and all I wanted to do was stare at his lips framed by his beard, my mind obviously hung up on the word kissing. The idea of kissing Bo.

Fighting every instinct, any possibility of experiencing that firsthand, I forced myself to concentrate on his words and put the bell down. “We’re going to go over this again?”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry. It’s just anytime someone rings this stupid bell they’re supposed to kiss? It sounds a little absurd to me. They’re silver bells. Everyone knows that. For marketing purposes someone just called them kissing bells and the label stuck. Simple as that.”

I couldn’t believe this. Well, I could, actually. Bo was a cynic, such a handsome cynic—not the point, my brain screamed—so, it was clear why he wouldn’t want to just go with this. Yes, it was just a bell, but wasn’t mistletoe just mistletoe until it became tradition to kiss under it?

It was magic.

If there was ever a time to believe, this was it.

Why couldn’t he just let go, why couldn’t he open himself up—to joy, to possibilities? To me?

Before I could say anything else, whatever I was feeling dissipated with the ringing of my phone, reality coming back down on me.

Bo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your ringtone is the song from How the Gri —” I gasped, causing him to stop talking abruptly. “What?” he asked, furrowing his brows as he looked more confused than ever before. “What’s the gasp for?”

I held up a finger and grabbed my phone. “I’m going to answer this, but the fact that you know where that song is from. . . .” I held a hand to my chest and sighed happily. “Oh, Bo, maybe you aren’t as bad off as I feared.”

Could that mean something?

Could there be hope yet for this grump?

As I clicked into the call, he rolled his eyes and muttered something incoherent. Unfazed, I answered, “Hello?” with an ear-to-ear smile on my face that couldn’t be helped. This was a moment I didn’t think I’d ever forget. Maybe he didn’t like that it was my ringtone, but it was and he knew where it came from.

“Hiya, Izzy. It’s Jesse.” He didn’t need to tell me that. Even though I didn’t check the screen before I accepted the call, I already knew it was Jesse. He had a distinct voice that I could pinpoint.

I chuckled. “Jesse, what’s going on? Are you on your way?”

Silence.

“Jesse,” I pushed. “The silence doesn’t bode well with me. What aren’t you telling me? What did you call to say?” I began growing nervous. Silence was never good, especially when it was coming over the phone.

“I hate to do this, but I caught whatever Nancy had and won’t be able to make it.”

I placed my elbows on the counter and knew it was true, I could hear it in his voice. He sounded like he had been put through it.

I ran a hand over my face. “You’re kidding me?” I knew he wasn’t, just wished it was all some big joke. “It’s too late to cancel at this point.” I exhaled. “It’s fine. It’s not your problem, though. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. You just get better, okay?”

“I really hate doing this to you. It’s tradition.”

I nodded. “I know. Next year, though, you’ll be right back here. Just worry about you right now, okay? Your health is the most important thing.”

“Thanks, Izzy, and I’m sorry again about this.”

After I hung up, I stared at my phone, wishing it was indeed a sick joke, that he was outside my store and would come in any minute, laughing at my expense. But that wasn’t Jesse. He wouldn’t do that to me or the kids and he certainly wouldn’t laugh about it.

I started running through the list of potential fill-ins in my head.

“What’s the matter?” Bo asked, a hand covering mine now on the counter. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. It’s sort of unsettling, actually.”

I looked upward and then back at him. “Jesse can’t make it.”

“Can’t make what?” he asked. “The wedding?”

I shook my head. The thing was, I was a planner and I wished I’d had advanced notice. And I knew that was ridiculous because who planned on getting sick? But still. Now I had no idea what I was going to do.

Without Santa, it was just me reading to the kids. Something told me they didn’t want me reading a Christmas story to them.

Ugh, what was the solution?

He began rubbing concentric circles on my hand until I looked down at the way he was trying to calm me down and tilted my head. Was it just me or was Bo being more acute to my feelings than usual?

“Jesse’s sick, so he can’t be Santa and read to the kids today,” I explained to him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll do it,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’ll do what?” I didn’t think I was understanding him. I mean, logic told me that he was offering to step in for Jesse, but Bo volunteering to wear a Santa suit and read to a group of children? Children who believed in the magic of Christmas and that one man could visit every child’s home in one single night? No, that couldn’t be what he was saying.

“I’ll fill in for Jesse.”

When I didn’t say anything, just stood there, mouth slightly agape, he said in other words, “I’ll be Santa.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. You’ll be Santa? As in wear this suit?” I pointed to the suit. “And fake your love for Christmas in front of doe-eyed children?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make me say it again, okay? And you better take me up on the offer before I change my mind.”

Without hesitation, I grabbed the Santa suit (hat and all) and shoved it at him. “Thank you for doing this! I’m just going to run to the store and get you a beard. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

* * *

Bo Grant was Santa Claus.

The grumpiest man quite possibly ever was playing the role of the happiest man—well, fictional man—on earth. The world was officially off its axis. Everything as we knew it, folks, was all messed up. Up was down. Down was up.

And Bo was Santa.

Santa = Bo.

Bo = Mr. Claus.

The only problem was, Bo refused to come out of the backroom. “There’s no way I’m going out there.” He tried crossing his arms like a cool guy and then cursed at all the fabric that was preventing him from doing it. “I take it back. You have to find a new Santa.”

I shook my head rapidly. “No way, Bo. It’s too late for that now. You have to go out there because if you don’t, then I’m going to have a room full of disappointed children.” Then I crossed my own arms and arched a brow. “Is that what you want?”

He looked like he was considering my words, but then deadpan returned, “They’ll get over it.”

I shot him a look. “Bo, you said you’d do it.” I half whined on the last part, but I couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hang me out to dry. Would he do that? I didn’t think so, but then again, I’d been wrong before where men were concerned.

And Bo seemed to be full of surprises.

I grabbed his white gloved hands in mine and looked up at him. “Please, Bo. It would mean the world to me.”

His expression softened and it was as though I could see the ice melting away from his usual chilly glare. He lifted one of his hands and placed a loose hair behind my ear. “I can’t say no to you.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up and licked my lips, watching as his hand fell back to mine and he squeezed them. “Don’t worry I’ll be your Santa.”

Whether it was my nerves, I couldn’t be sure, but I chuckled. “Great.”

Was it just me or was it suddenly stifling in here?

I took my hands and wiped them on my pants, suddenly all too aware of how sweaty my palms felt. “You look jolly.” He looked jolly? Where did that come from?

“Thanks?” He cocked a brow and fixed his Santa hat before grabbing his belly under the red coat and yelping, “Ho-ho-ho!”

I smacked my lips together and stifled a laugh. “Go, Santa.”

He winked at me and pulled at the elasticity on the white beard covering his own black one so he could whisper, “Watch out, Izzy. If you’re not a good girl, you’ll get coal in your stocking.”

I hung my mouth open as he smacked the beard back in place. “Snow worries. I’m always a good girl.”

He gave me a blank expression.

“See what I did there?” I elaborated, “Because it’s snow instead of no.”

He walked out, shaking his head the entire time. Whatever, it was funny.

“Santa!” I heard being yelled from various voices.

“Oh, ho-ho-ho!” he exclaimed again, this time much louder, though.

I looked upward and closed my eyes. Something told me that was the only thing he knew about Santa.

* * *

“The stockings were hung by the—”

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Without ever taking my eyes off Bo, I asked Gavin, who was standing to the side of me, his arms crossed as he had a scowl on his face that said: this is the last place on earth I want to be.

But he came because he thought we should go out together and this would convince me it was a good idea. I didn’t know how he figured that, but fine.

Gavin sighed. “Sure, if you’re actually falling for his act.” He turned to me and placed his hands on my arms, like he did the last time he was here. “You should’ve called me, Izzy. I would’ve suited up for you.” His voice got deeper on that last part as he puffed out his chest.

I glared at his hands on me and then made moves to remove them myself when he clearly wasn’t getting the hint. It was probably because his brain couldn’t function, since his head was obviously inflated with that ego of his.

“That’s very kind of you, but Bo was here and he offered. I think it was a nice gesture, he didn’t have to do it.” Unlike if Gavin would’ve done it—that would’ve come with some obligation on my part. Some obligation I would’ve never been okay with, mind you, like go out with him.

But unlike Gavin, Bo was unassuming, kinder, gentler even. I knew he didn’t want anyone to see that side of him, but I did. I saw the man beneath the beast he wanted everyone to see.

Even now, I looked back at Bo and reveled in the smile he was wearing. It couldn’t even be hidden by the snowy white beard. And it looked genuine. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was actually enjoying himself.

“Please, Izzy, don’t honestly tell me you’re interested in that guy.”

I shrugged. Not that it was any of his business, but, “So what if I am?”

“You can’t be. A woman like yourself? You wouldn’t last with a man like him. You need a man like me. You’re the most beautiful woman in town and if you need a little persuasion, well, I don’t mind giving it because I know how great we can be together.”

That was it. I invited him here because he was adamant and refused to see that he and I would never be more than mere acquaintances. But it was time Gavin heard me and respected what I wanted.

Not that I knew what that was, but it certainly wasn’t Gavin. He had no right to try to control me or make me feel bad for not wanting him. I also could not be convinced.

So I asked Gavin, “What exactly do you mean a man like him? You’ve said that twice now and I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”

“I’m still implying it.”

“Don’t.” I pointed to the door. “I want you to leave.”

“Izzy, don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little?”

“No, I’m not.” Before he turned to leave, I seethed, “And I don’t like lobster.”

Never had I been so grateful to see someone walk out of my bookstore before. Seeing Gavin walk out of those doors, I realized something.

Bo never had a reason to be any way other than he was, but I knew he was more than he let on. He wasn’t grumpy, he wasn’t a beast, he was a good man with a good heart. Maybe a few too many lousy experiences, if the childhood he told me about was any indication.

But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from helping his friend when he needed it. Just look at what he’d done for Louie, stopping his life to come here to Silver Springs and help with the wedding planning.

And the way he helped me out of a jam today, even though we both knew he would’ve rather have had a root canal than dress up like Santa and read a story to over a dozen kids who still believed.

Bo was the real deal.

And in that moment, I knew all my friends were right. It was always there, just below the surface. I didn’t want Bo to leave. I didn’t want whatever chapter we were writing together to end. I wanted it to continue, to grow into more chapters, an entire frigging book.

I wanted it to be a tale as old as time.