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“You need to turn one of the stakes and push it through the central device,” I tell him in my Santa voice. “Then attach the lever to the stake.”
He stares at me. “Oh… I didn’t realize that. Wow, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.”
Sandra and Missie both chuckle.
“What do you really want?” I ask Finn softly.
He hesitates, and I nod to encourage him. “I’d like to go up in your helicopter,” he says eagerly.
I clear my throat. “You mean my sleigh?”
“Oh yes, of course, your sleigh.”
I glance at Missie. She’s smiling, so I guess she won’t mind if I agree. “I’ll sprinkle some fairy dust and see what I can do.”
He grins. “Thank you, Santa.”
“Come on,” Sandra says. “There are more kids waiting.”
I groan. “Save me, Finn.”
“Mum says you need punishing because you were cheeky to her,” he points out as Sandra turns him around.
“Slave driver,” I tell Missie, and Sandra laughs and wheels him out.
At three o’clock, the fair is coming to an end, and Missie finally declares it’s time to wrap up. I take off the Santa suit, then go out the back of the tent into the fresh air and lie on the grass in my tee and shorts, exhausted and soaked with sweat, even lacking the energy to push Zelda away when she licks my face.
A shadow falls across me, and I open my eyes to see an upside-down Missie leaning over me, her hands on her knees. “You did a great job,” she says.
“Ho, ho, ho.”
She smiles. “You never fail to surprise me, Alexander Winters.”
“I’ve eaten so many brownies, I don’t need the padding anymore.”
She laughs, walks to my feet, and holds out a hand, and I take it. She tries to pull me up, but it’s not easy for her, and she groans.
“Ooh, you’re heavy,” she complains, pulling back with all her weight.
“I told you, it’s all the cake.” As I finally get to my feet, I topple forward and bump into her. “Sorry.”
We stand there for a moment, surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of the school fair. It’s a beautiful afternoon. A few kids are still on the bouncy castle, and their laughter floats across the field, along with shimmering bubbles that a little girl is blowing with a wand. Next to Santa’s Grotto, a stall is selling homemade Christmas potpourri, and I can smell cinnamon and cranberries and baked orange slices. Missie’s long ponytail lifts in the light breeze, and her eyes sparkle like her Christmas-tree earrings. Man, she’s gorgeous. I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve, the air between us full of magic and promise of what’s to come.
Chapter Eight
Missie
Alex has a large triangle of sweat on his T-shirt, his face is flushed, and his hair is completely soaked, a far cry from the suave, sophisticated image he normally projects. The poor guy has worn a fur coat and thick trousers for four hours, and apart from a brief joke at the beginning, he hasn’t complained once.
I’d say he’s done it for me, but I can’t be sure. Despite his grumpy demeanor, he’s obviously altruistic and kind deep down. How do I know what his true feelings for me are?
Carly thought I was mad when I voiced my doubt at lunchtime. “Girl,” she said, “he’s crazy about you. I can tell by the way he’s looking at you. There’s no doubt about it.”
But I haven’t seen it for myself. His face is always impassive. His eyes are a different story—they often seem full of heat when they look at me. But maybe I’m just seeing what I want to see. How can I be certain?
He’s prime real estate—young, gorgeous, and a top businessman—incredibly smart, and quite the genius, from what I’ve heard. Why on earth would he be interested in me?
