It's That Time of Year. Christine Wenger

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СКАЧАТЬ could feel him standing behind her, so she went back around to the other side of the car to get away from him.

      He huffed out a breath, clearly frustrated by her refusal. “Look, I spoke with Cal. Since my presence is clearly making things uncomfortable for you, I tried to get out of being the grand marshal, but he said that they couldn’t get a replacement at this point.” He shrugged. “I just want you to know that I tried.”

      Melanie froze. He’d actually tried to get out of being the grand marshal—for her? That was considerate of him. Maybe she was being too selfish.

      Emotions were churning inside her, giving her a pounding headache. A nagging voice inside her chastised her for being unfair. Maybe listening to him would help her put the past to rest and make it easier for her to have a good Christmas with Kyle.

      She sighed. “Okay, Sam…I’ll have dinner with you. Tomorrow night.”

      He smiled. “Shall I pick you up? Seven o’clock?”

      She shook her head. “I’ll meet you at Momma Luigi’s. It’s on Main Street.”

      “I’ll find it,” he said. “It’s a date.”

      “No, it’s not,” she said, ignoring the flush of pleasure that heated her face. “It’s just dinner.”

      Sam found himself whistling as he drove back to the Pine Tree Motel in Jack Hawkins’s big white pickup, which he’d borrowed for the length of his stay.

      He liked both Melanie’s brothers, and her father, too. He’d gotten to know them fairly well last year after the ice storm. They were hard workers, friendly and personable.

      But he was attracted to Melanie—he couldn’t deny it. In fact, it was one of the reasons he agreed to return to Hawk’s Lake.

      What had made Melanie decide to have dinner with him? Sam figured he’d just worn her down and she was sick of him asking. He could be tenacious when he wanted to be—really tenacious.

      She looked sexy in her navy blue mechanic’s jumpsuit. It clung to all her curves. Her emerald eyes looked even bigger and greener through the safety goggles she was wearing.

      And she’d finally agreed to hear him out—and for the first time in months, he felt a lightness inside his chest.

      Later that evening, the snow was still falling in big feathery flakes as Melanie pulled her forestgreen Blazer into the parking lot across the street from the Hawk’s Lake Public Library.

      She smiled down at her son. “We’re here.”

      “Cool,” Kyle said, grinning. “I can’t wait to talk to Santa.”

      “Santa’s only reading The Grinch today. You already talked to Santa last night.” She got out and opened the passenger door for Kyle, who quickly scrambled out of the Blazer.

      “Hold it, mister,” she said. “It’s twenty degrees out.”

      She pulled his hat down around his ears, gathered the hood of his parka onto his head and snapped it under his chin. With his sweet face framed in a circle, he looked like a little angel. She took his mittened hand in hers and walked to the street to wait for one of the town’s four snowplows to go by.

      Pretty soonKylewouldn’t believe in Santa or the magic of Christmas. Soon he’d be too grown-up to take her hand to cross the street. She sighed. Funny, she thought, how time could be a friend or an enemy.

      As they were about to cross, a big white pickup truck ground to a slow, sputtering halt before them. It was driven by…Santa Claus.

      Kyle squealed. “It’s Santa, Mom! It’s Santa! What’s he doing in Uncle Jack’s truck?”

      Santa got out of the truck, and it looked like he was about to let loose with an expletive before he saw them standing there. Familiar blue eyes met hers above the white beard.

      Santa shifted on his feet, looking down. “Um…ho, ho, ho!” he said weakly. “Um…my reindeer are resting and my sleigh is being loaded by my elves, so a nice man by the name of Jack Hawkins let me use his…uh…sleigh on wheels. But there seems to be something wrong with it.”

      Melanie knew that voice. That deep, resonating voice. It seemed to melt her bones every time she heard it.

      Sam LeDoux.

      “Santa, my mom can fix it,” Kyle said, eyes wide, looking up at the big man. “My grandpa says she’s the best car fixer in the whole world.” He swiveled to look at her. “You can fix it, right, Mom?”

      “Um…yes…of course, I’ll take a look under the hood, honey.” She walked Kyle to a nearby bench and brushed the snow from it. “You sit right there and don’t move. There are a lot of cars driving into the library lot and it’s dark. This’ll only take a second.”

      “Okay.” Kyle watched her with excitement glowing on his face, like his mom helping Santa Claus was the best thing that had ever happened.

      Walking back to the truck, she flipped the lever and bent over to look under the hood as Santa—Sam—stood next to her. Their shoulders brushed as they stood side by side looking at the engine.

      “Why are you playing Santa?” she said through gritted teeth.

      He looked down at her and grinned. “The scheduled Santa had to work overtime at the paper mill, so I got roped into it by Cal.”

      “I see.”

      Two days in Hawk’s Lake and Sam had been roped into playing Santa. By his own admission, he had at least a dozen bigger events to attend, yet he’d come for the kids. She had to admit he wasn’t quite the bad guy she’d made him out to be…

      “I’m not sure that I’ll be a very good Santa,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Any advice for a rookie?”

      As she looked up into those twinkling eyes, she had to laugh. “Just be natural and do a lot of ho-ho-ho-ing. And by the way, Jack’s truck needs a new alternator.”

      “You can tell that right off?” He sounded impressed.

      “I could tell by the sound when you pulled in,” she said confidently. “I’ll call my cousin Ronnie at the garage to send a tow.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why Jack loaned you this truck. He knew the alternator was going. Ronnie will fix it tonight.”

      She closed the hood, then turned a critical eye to Sam’s outfit.

      “Sam, your beard and your…stomach…are a bit off center. You should fix them.”

      “I’ve tried, but I can’t seem to get them straight.”

      It was dark behind the truck, and he was standing much too close to her, but Melanie couldn’t let the kids see Sam in his disheveled state.

      She hurriedly moved his beard to the left, so the mustache was positioned correctly around his lips—his perfect lips. Glancing down to his stomach, she centered the pillows in the middle СКАЧАТЬ