Charlotte laughed. “Yeah, because hanging out with Carrie, Blake, and Keith isn’t fun.”
“Blake’s kids are fun. They spoiled Collin with attention, and he’s bored with just me and Ethan now.” She sighed happily. “The Christmas special will air in a couple of days, and things will calm down. I’m looking forward to a quiet Christmas in Moose Hollow.”
Micah’s mouth dropped open. They joked about some of the biggest names in country music, as if they were family. Maybe for Valerie, they were.
“I’ll call you later this week–we need a cocoa date.”
“Deal.” Charlotte grinned and waved at her friend. “Can I help you?” She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced down before meeting his eye.
“I need ribbon for the school Santa book thing,” he grumbled.
Charlotte didn’t move to retrieve any from the shelves, back room, or wherever she stored the ribbon. “You don’t seem happy about it.”
Micah took a moment to evaluate himself. He’d folded his arms, and there was a line between his eyebrows that he forced to smooth out. He’d also pulled his shoulders back. “I’m fine.”
Charlotte gave him an I-don’t-believe you look before coming around the counter and moving to the wrapping paper section of the store. She looked things over before selecting some of the best and most expensive ribbons.
“It doesn’t have to be the good stuff,” Micah protested.
Charlotte smacked his arm playfully as she moved past him. “Of course it does. These books come from Santa! Santa is all about quality.” She grabbed a paper bag with handles and filled it with the ribbon. “So tell me why you’re an unwilling elf this year.”
Micah sighed. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his mom in a long time. He didn’t even like bringing up memories with his brother. It seemed too painful to note what they’d lost. Then again, Mom would love Charlotte–they were two of a kind.
“Every year after I graduated elementary school, my brother and I were in charge of wrapping the books.” Micah groaned. “With ribbon.” He snatched up the bag she’d set on the counter. “I got blisters on my fingers.”
Charlotte tipped her head in the way she did when trying to figure him out. To be fair, she might do it when she was trying to figure out other things too, but he wanted that head tilt to be about him, so he claimed it. “You don’t like wrapping presents?”
“It’s not that…” he trailed off as memories of years gone by came to the surface of his thoughts. “Jonah and I would make hot chocolate, put on a silly Christmas movie, and start wrapping. We’d talk about everything from girls to the teachers who delighted in giving homework over winter break.” He quirked a grin, placing a hand on the counter. “Mom would always make a roast for dinner–with carrots and sweet potatoes and,” he paused as the feeling of being home swelled in his chest. “And I guess it wasn’t all paper cuts and endless ribbon curls,” he finished softly. Those moments seemed perfect in his memory.
A soft hand landed on his. A jolt went through him, and he looked into Charlotte’s light blue eyes. “Sounds like you’re the perfect man.”
He blinked. “I am?” Had he said that out loud? What did she mean, perfect?
Charlotte pulled her hand back and tucked it behind the counter. “For the job. I mean. The perfect man for the job.”
“Right.” it wasn’t like she knew about his Christmas wish for the perfect holiday. Weird that all these reminders had popped up, though. Her perfect Christmas cookies and his perfect holiday nights with his family. “It’s not like I have a choice, so I’d better get to work.”
“That’s the Christmas Spirit,” she teased him.
Micah pressed his lips together, unsure how to respond.
The light in Charlotte’s eyes dimmed, and he kicked himself. “Oh!” He was grateful he had something to say to smooth things over. “Lizzie made friends with your niece thanks to the cookies, so… thanks.”
Charlotte chuckled. “I’m sure there’s more to the story than that–but you’re welcome.” She paused. “I guess she doesn’t have to ask Santa for a friend this Christmas.”
“Nope,” he said with all the pride in his heart for his little girl. “She took care of that one on her own.”
Was it her imagination, or did her smile dim?
“Merry Christmas,” she called. He must have imagined her mood dropping for a second there.
“And happy wrapping!” she added.
“I’ll see you around,” he waved and ducked outside.
He walked down the street to his car, that light feeling in his chest. Although this time, it was warm too. When the music came on the radio, he almost felt like humming along. Almost.
ChapterSeven
