He was just going to have to sit and wait for my answer. I deserved the time to consider things. I pushed through the lodge doors and heard the excited chatter of families preparing for Santa’s arrival. I had a feeling that waiting wasn’t going to make this choice any easier.
CHAPTER 54
KENT
“The cabin isn’t spectacular,” Santa said, pushing open the cheerful red door and gesturing for me to follow him inside. “But it’ll do the trick.”
I had to duck slightly to clear the doorframe and immediately understood why this place had earned its nickname. Every surface was covered in Christmas decorations. Garland was draped over doorways, snowflake cutouts stuck to windows, and what had to be hundreds of fake presents stacked in every corner like a holiday warehouse explosion.
“There aren’t any other hotels in town,” Santa continued, his white beard bobbing as he talked. “And you’re not exactly welcome in the lodge right now, so this is your only option.”
I didn’t complain. After the conversation I’d just had with Sylvie, I was grateful to have any roof over my head that didn’t require a three-hour drive back to civilization.
Santa spotted me getting back in the rental and stopped me from leaving. I was kind of expecting him to pick a fight with me or tell me I was a jackass. That seemed to be the trend.
But he was nice. Friendly. Seemed very understanding.
The cabin was cozy. I had to give it that. A Christmas tree dominated one corner, its branches heavy with mismatchedornaments that looked like they’d been collected over decades. A real stone fireplace took up most of one wall, with logs already stacked and ready to light. There was even a coffee machine on the small kitchenette counter, which felt like a minor miracle. A man could survive on coffee.
The only problem was the distinct lack of a bed. That would definitely be a little weird in Santa’s workshop. There was a sofa that looked like it had seen better days, though it was at least long enough to accommodate my height if I didn’t mind sleeping with my feet hanging over the armrest and my neck resting on the opposite armrest.
“This is perfect,” I said, and meant it. “Thank you for helping me out.”
Santa extended a hand that was surprisingly firm despite the white gloves. “Just trying to help a guy out.”
“I really appreciate this.”
“You staying around for the holidays?” Wesley asked, adjusting his red hat. “Or will you be heading back to the city?”
“I’m not sure I should go home for Christmas,” I said carefully. “If Sylvie takes my offer, well, let’s just say there will be consequences back in New York.”
“Another offer? I don’t want to get into family business, but I was under the impression they had some pretty choice words about what you could do with that first offer.”
I groaned. “Yeah, it’s a better offer. One that I think will be far more beneficial to everyone.”
“Including yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Because you want to get back with your young lady?”
I appreciated the directness, even if it was a little invasive.
“I would love to have a chance with Sylvie, but I understand if that’s not possible,” I said. “But I would still like to move forwardwith the investment because I truly believe in this place. I don’t care about the consequences.”
Wesley frowned, his jolly Santa expression shifting into something more serious. “What kind of consequences?”
I considered how much to explain. How could I tell him that standing up to my father might cost me everything? That choosing to do the right thing could mean losing my place in the family business, my inheritance, maybe even my relationship with my family.
“The complicated kind,” I said finally.
Wesley studied me for way too long. I had the unsettling feeling that he could see more than I was comfortable revealing. “Well, Christmas has a way of working things out. Sometimes in ways we don’t expect. I’m all about Christmas miracles.”
With that bit of holiday optimism, he headed for the door. “I better get up to the lodge. Got some kids to visit tonight, and Mrs. Claus gets cranky if I’m late.”
After Wesley left, I took a more thorough look around my temporary home. The decorations were overwhelming but charming in their excess. Fake snow was sprinkled on every available surface. Candy canes hung from picture frames. Even the coffee machine had a tiny Santa hat perched on top. I had a feeling Sylvie’s hand had been in here. She loved going just a little wild with the decorating. It was one of the many things I appreciated about her.
It was definitely not my style, but I found myself smiling. She had rubbed off on me. A month ago I would have preferred to drag my balls over ice than stay in a space that looked like Christmas exploded in the tackiest way possible.
