“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 thou
ght 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.
365 days later
As I dump a glob of waffle batter into my waffle machine, my eyes catch on the shiny diamond sitting on my left ring finger. As I roll it from side to side, a smile catches on my lips, and happiness fills my chest. I never would have thought that so much could change in one single year, but over the last three hundred and sixty-five days, everything has changed for me.
Not only did Tyler and I start dating, but he ended up going to Jamaica with me—a place where I’m pretty sure we both fell in love, because from the time we got home, we’ve been inseparable. Three months ago, he finally put his house on the market and moved in here, since he was here all the time. And this morning after we finished setting up our last tree of the hundred we had gotten—our new team of elves helping split up the work—he got down on one knee in the snow and asked me to be his wife.
I thought I would regret anyone knowing I was the Port Huron Santa, but now I realize it was the best thing to ever happen, because when the story went viral, people from around the world reached out, asking how they could help, or saying they were inspired to do the same thing in their towns. Now, there is a little more Christmas magic everywhere.
“I’m starving.” Tyler wraps his arm around my middle while burying his face in my neck, kissing me there.
“Me too.” I turn in his arms and look into his eyes. Jeez, you’d think after a year of him being mine I’d be used to having him so close, but I still get the same nervous butterflies I got the first time he was this near, and I still anticipate the moment his lips will touch mine.
“Love you, Milly.”
“I love you too.” I lean up as he lowers his head, and when our lips meet, my heart sighs.
Yes, there is definitely such thing as Christmas magic.
OTHER BOOKS BY AURORA ROSE REYNOLDS
The Until Series
Until November
Until Trevor
Until Lilly
Until Nico
Second Chance Holiday
Underground Kings Series
Assumption
Obligation
Distraction
Infatuation
Until Her Series
Until July
Until June
Until Ashlyn
Until Harmony
Until December
Until Him Series
Until Jax
Until Sage
Until Cobi
Until Tallon
Shooting Stars Series
Fighting to Breathe
Wide-Open Spaces
One Last Wish
Fluke My Life Series
Running into Love
Stumbling into Love
Tossed into Love
Drawn Into Love
How To Catch An Alpha
Catching Him
Baiting Him
Hooking Him
Falling Fast
Alpha Law CA ROSE
Justified Liability
Finders Keepers
ABOUT AURORA ROSE REYNOLDS
Aurora Rose Reynolds is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author whose wildly popular series include Until, Until Him, Until Her, and Underground Kings.
Her writing career started in an attempt to get the outrageously alpha men who resided in her head to leave her alone and has blossomed into an opportunity to share her stories with readers all over the world.
To keep up to date on what’s happening join the Alpha Mailing List. https://bit.ly/2GXYsVS
To order signed books go to https://AuroraRoseReynolds.com
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Santa’s Favorite Ho.
-T-shirt
Soren
“What the hell are you doing?”
I looked at my brother.
“Getting ready to go deliver some packages. Why? Are you bitching about the help I’m giving you again?” I wondered.
Johan tilted his head. “I asked for help one time. Per’s been back a week now, and yet you’re still doing his route… why?”
I didn’t really want to tell him why.
In fact, I didn’t have to explain shit to him.
I owned a quarter of this company, I sure as hell could do the damn delivery side of it if I freakin’ wanted to!
“Because Soren’s got a crush on a girl on my delivery route at the crossroads of 443 and 556,” Per announced as he came up behind me.
Mikael and Per were young yet. When they’d asked to join in on my and Johan’s adventure a couple of months ago, we’d given them the go-ahead as long as they learned about the company from the ground up like Johan and I had.
When Johan, my twin, and I had started working for Parsons Parcel when we were sixteen, neither one of us had really thought we’d make it our living when we were adults.
In fact, I’d gone on to become a doctor, Johan had gone on to become a psychiatrist.
Yet we were still both entering into this business venture more than we thought we would when we’d signed on that dotted line to buy PP, Inc—yes, that’s really the name.
We’d thought we’d be able to navigate the business from afar.
But the moment that we bought the place, we realized just what, exactly, PP was.
In. Fucking. Trouble.
Meaning that my brother and I had been working a hell of a lot of overtime while we also worked at our regular jobs.
In fact, I’d just come off a twenty-four-hour shift at the hospital.
The last thing I really should be doing was delivering a shit ton of packages during peak Christmas shopping season on three hours of sleep.
But… I wanted to see her.
“Because I followed him. His tracker showed him stopped at a certain house for over twenty minutes last time he delivered for me,” Per admitted. “So I got curious and made sure to accidentally keep a package that was meant for her from him and delivered it the next day. Cute little redhead that has eyes that are the color of grass.”
All eyes turned to me.
“She has a dog,” I hedged. “He’s really cute.”
“Sure, the dog is cute.” Johan rolled his eyes. “Go do your shift, weirdo. And try not to stay there too long. Otherwise, I’ll show up and see what’s keeping you.”
The thing was, he totally would.
“Whatever,” I grumbled, a nervous anticipation starting to course through me at the idea of seeing my favorite delivery location chick again.
Which made me roll my eyes as soon as I got into the obnoxious orange delivery truck.
I was a thirty-five-year-old man. I was an emergency room doctor. I was six-foot-three, could deadlift
five hundred pounds, and I could run circles around every single person at my CrossFit gym.
The only thing was, a little woman that I couldn’t even work up the courage to ask her name, was making me so nervous and giddy that I could barely contain my excitement.
I really needed to get a life.
Or work up the courage to ask her out on a date.
I was hoping one day I could talk myself into the latter.
I got hos in a lot of different area codes.
-Santa T-shirt
Nola
“Is he there yet?” my sister, Creole, asked.
“Not yet,” I admitted, my thick Cajun accent in full force. “He’s usually here by now.”
“Maybe he saved you for last,” Creole suggested.
I snorted. “He did not save me for last. I can’t keep ordering things like this, either. It’s getting really out of hand.”
My credit card was already bursting at the seams.
The only good thing was that I knew that Creole’s kids would enjoy all the presents that I’d bought for them this year.
“So, did you get a pic of him yet?” she asked. “I want a better one than that blurry one you took through the blinds last time.”
I snorted. “You know that’s all you’re going to get. I swear to God, it’s like the man knows when I’m taking a photo. He always catches me, and I have to act like I’m taking a picture of my dog instead.”
“How is King Cake doing, anyway?” she asked. “I miss him.”
My family had a theme.
My mother, father, sister, and I were from New Orleans, Louisiana.
When we were eighteen, my sister and I moved away to start school in Texas.
Then, Creole decided that she needed to see more of the world, and then decided to up and join the Navy, leaving our dog, King Cake, in my loving care.