PARKER
“Enjoying the view?” Estelle sidles up to me as I take a break mid-party to appreciate how happy all the kids seem.
I snap my attention away from Callum, having been admiring him for the past few seconds. And not to make sure he doesn’t act out. But because of the way he easily interacts with all the kids, as if it’s second nature.
I expected him to just go through the motions of being Santa, like I instructed him. Pose for photos, but don’t speak too much.
It took him a few minutes, but he eventually got into the role, asking the kids if they were good. Even those who claimed they hadn’t been, a common theme among foster kids, he assured them they’re still deserving of love.
There was a time I would have given anything for someone like Callum to tell me that. To give me the hope he instilled in many of the kids today.
“Just making sure he doesn’t ruin this for anyone.”
Estelle places a hand on my arm. “You know he won’t. He’s a good person.”
“Who’s trying to steal Holley Ridge.”
“Doesn’t look like he’s trying to steal the ridge right now,” she snips back with a hint of superiority. “If anything, it looks like he’shelpingyou.”
“It’s probably all part of his scheme to make me think he’s a decent human being.”
“If you ask me, he is.” She glances at Callum as he talks animatedly with a little boy about his favorite video games. “He didn’t have to agree to this. Yet he’s doing it anyway. I think that should count for something.” She pins me with a stare, then turns, walking toward the arts and crafts station to help kids make Christmas ornaments.
“Maybe so,” I murmur, shifting my eyes toward Callum once more.
As I do, he glances away from the little boy, his gaze briefly locking with mine. It could just be the costume, but I swear I see a twinkle in his dark eyes.
The next few hours pass in a whirlwind of food and games, which is a blessing in disguise. It helps to distract me from thinking about Callum Reed. And the heat in his stare as he told me he needed me to change out of my elf costume if he was to play Santa.
Which I did.
But I may have intentionally chosen another slim-fitting dress just to see his reaction. I haven’t had a man look at me the way Callum does in years.
If ever.
As much as I hate to admit it, I really like it, even though I shouldn’t.
Once the last kid has left, I approach Callum, surprised to see him helping clean everything up.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him. “You’ve already done more than enough.”
And he did. I told him he could leave after all the kids had their pictures taken. He didn’t, though, staying to play games, like pin the nose on Rudolph and the marshmallow relay race. He even helped the smaller kids with the piñata.
“I don’t mind.” He passes me a smile that I shouldn’t find as sexy as I do.
But it’s impossible not to with the Santa jacket hanging open, revealing a fitted white t-shirt that clings to his muscles. He’s ditched the hat and beard, his facial hair dusted with powder to help it blend in with the fake beard he wore.
Which makes him look a bit like a silver fox.
And silver-fox Callum is too sexy for his own good.
“Well, thanks for today.” I help him return all the craft supplies to their appropriate bins. “It meant a lot to me. And the kids.”
He meets my gaze. “Like I said earlier. All kids deserve to believe in the magic of Santa.”
“Yes, they do.” My lips lift in the corners.
I barely recognize the brooding man who stood in my office last week, telling me Christmas was a waste of time and resources. I just wish I could tell if it’s because he’s had a change of heart or if it’s all an act to get me to sell to him.
