Page 21 of Naughty-ish

“My life isn’t really much of a mystery, I’m just private about things.” His tone sounds ominous.

“About the family business?”

“Yeah.” He rubs his hand over his red cap, adjusting it on his head before pushing it back in place. “It’s a touchy subject this time of year.”

“Meaning?” As soon as I ask, I realize I’m being intrusive when he just said he didn’t like to talk about it. “You know what? Never mind.” I don’t need his secrets. We’ve had a good day and I’m not interested in pushing him for details.

I’d love to ask what his mom meant when she sounded so proud of him for being on a date. Does he not date? When I consider the woman against his front door last summer and the scene in his yard weeks later, it’s probably safe to say he doesn’t date. So what is he doing spending a day with me and my kids?

“Thank you,” I finally say. “It was really nice of you to spend your time with us. I know the kids had a great time.”

Nick inclines his head to briefly glance at me. “But what about you? Did you have a great time?”

I fight the smile pulling at my lips. “Yeah, you’re okay.”

His brows lift so high his cap adjusts on his head. “Just okay? I’ll need to brush up. Can’t be mediocre. It’s either good or bad, no in between.” He winks.

I’d love to be on a naughty list with him, but I tamp down the thought and melt into the fact that Nick is a nice guy, and being in that column on the list isn’t always bad.

+ + +

When we return to my house, Nick unloads our Christmas pine from his truck and gives the tree trunk a fresh cut before settling it in a base I purchased at the farm. Eloise and I might have been a bit ambitious in selecting the perfect evergreen, and this one takes up more space than I’d anticipated once inside my living room.

“Good thing you don’t have a fireplace,” Nick comments, putting the tree in a corner of the space. He’s already told me he has one.

“How will Santa get into our house without a fireplace?” Eloise suddenly asks.

Nick and I both freeze, meeting eyes and holding our breath.

Shit.

“Well, Santa’s super smart,” Nick begins. “Just like he knows if you’ve been bad or good, he also knows if your house has a chimney or not, and actually, all houses have a chimney.”

My brows hitch wondering how Nick is going to explain this one.

“Every house has heat, so it has to have a chimney, called an exhaust. Santa can squeeze his big belly down the chute to get here.”

Eloise glances around the room and gazes at the thermostat. She knows it controls the heat in our house and works with the furnace in the basement.

“Will he get burned coming through the furnace?”

I close my eyes, knowing what comes next. She’s going to ask if I can turn off the heat on Christmas Eve so we don’t set Santa on fire.

“Actually, Santa’s fluffy and cozy suit is just something he wears for social media. You know, Instagram and all that. He wears a flame-resistant suit when he’s on the job.” Nick winks at Eloise.

She doesn’t have an Instagram account at her young age, but she knows about such a thing from her former babysitter who was a high school girl.

“Huh.” Eloise doesn’t sound convinced and I’m not ready for her to stop believing even if I’m struggling to find the magic in the season. I need to do better for her.

“I’m hungry,” Nash interjects and I’m grateful for the shift in focus.

“I’ll order a pizza.” I glance up at Nick. “Would you like to stay for dinner? Consider it payment for services rendered.”

His head pops up, locking eyes with me a second, before pulling his phone from his back pocket. He checks something on the screen, then glances back at me.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I have a fireman thing.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” Inviting him to dinner wasn’t a proposal, but an innocent offer. It’s only a pizza, but I still feel silly. A fireman thing? Doubt ricochets through my head. He’s clearly done with us this day and I don’t fault him. He probably has someone who looks like a holiday singer waiting for him.