“My little brother used to call me that,” I whisper. Grace doesn’t even know about that nickname. It’s what he’d call me when he was a kid.
I used to love it.
“Ethan,” Stetson says slowly. “Ethan is your younger brother.”
My heart stops.
“I didn’t tell you that.”
He goes on.
“Your parents, Kate and Jeffrey, left you alone with him a lot when you were younger and through your teens,” Stetson takes a step toward me, his face so serious now. “You think of him like he’s your own child, even though there’s only a four-year age gap.”
“How do you…?”
My words trail off because I don’t understand what’s happening. He could have done some deep dive and looked me up, broken into my private social media account and seen my brother, who’s in a lot of the pictures I post for my closest friends. He’s rich enough.
But the rest…
The stuff about my mom and dad. That’s not public domain.
Those are my private memories. Ones I don’t talk about or share. Maybe once with Grace, so she could understand why my relationship was the way it was with my parents. But that’s all.
“I know a lot of about you,” he rubs the side of his thumb against his short beard and looks contemplative.
“Did you hire some crazy private investigator or something?” I ask in disbelief.
And then there’s last night. The things he said, the things he knew.
He laughs and shakes his head.
“No, I don’t need to,” he says. “I can sense childhood memories about every person I come in contact with during these four months of winter.”
“Huh?” I shake my head at him not comprehending.
“You wanted the Wandering Jew for Christmas when you were eleven and you cried for days because your parents didn’t get the plant for you.”
My jaw drops.
“You still have an affinity for that plant,” he smiles. “It is quite unique.”
“There is no way on earth you can know any of this!” I stand up now, more than slightly unnerved.
“I can.” He states calmly, capturing my gaze with such sanity and certainty that I start to believe him.
“You’re just too damn hot to be Santa Claus!” I blurt out the most obvious fact again.
He smiles slowly, his blue gaze lingering on my mouth and chest before capturing mine again.
“I’m glad you think so.”
I flush.
“You don’t even have a belly!”
He laughs. “I’ve got a ways to go,” he says. “I’ve been told it kicks in when I formally take over the job.”
“Formally take over the job?” I yell now. “Do you realize how insane this sounds?”
